TR UT IN NOR WA Y. 3 1 



dismal looking place at night, almost enough to make you 

 afraid. Close by the road-side is a grand lake, called the 

 Little Mjosen, which gleams with a terrible aspect in the 

 almost total darkness. It has grown cold too, and we are 

 glad as we enter the courtyard, to see the glare of a fire. 

 The station is like most of them. There is a large room 

 with bare board floor, bare rafters, and bare board walls. 

 The furniture consists of two beds, two chairs, a rough table, 

 a dark Avooden clothes-press, and a diminutive washing 

 place. But if this simplicity is any disadvantage (and far 

 from that, I look upon it as the greatest addition to 

 enjoyment), it is soon dispelled by the entrance of the 

 evening meal, and then comes sleep, as peaceful as that 

 of the just. In the morning, as I stroll down to the lake 

 for my bath, how mistaken I find I have been in my 

 impression of the place. What a land it is ! How great 

 and good should all those be who live in it ! 



As I return, the words of the Psalmist rise to my mind 

 with a meaning they have never had before: — "Let the 

 floods clap their hands ; let the hills be joyful together." 

 I accosted a lad on my way back, and asked if he knew 

 the height of the hill over there. " Jeg veed ikke," "I 

 know not," he replied, " but perhaps it goes up to heaven." 

 This was chaff, no doubt, but the truth was never so 

 unwittingly spoken. 



As I ascend to the station I get the finest view of the 

 scene. The mountains on the other side of the lake, high 

 and precipitous though they be, are no longer gloomy and 

 frowning, but are lit up and gleaming in every shade of 

 purple and gold ; bare rocks tower upwards to the clouds, 



