100 A RIVER OF NORWAY 



the fjord. The background is filled by the 

 giant bulk of the Stor Hest, rearing, to a 

 height of 4000 feet, his barren cliffs above the 

 greenery of lesser hills. In his outline an 

 imaginative eye may trace the origin of his 

 name, Great Horse. It is a fair scene, set off 

 here and there by glimpses of white houses 

 and red barns, amid the cultivated clearings. 

 To a point about two miles down the fjord, a 

 small steamer comes thrice a week from Bergen. 

 We cannot see the boat, but we sometimes 

 look for its smoke, which heralds the arrival 

 of our mail, with the eagerness of the Romans 

 watching for the white column at a Papal 

 election. This year we find a telephone line 

 has been constructed to the nearest telegraph 

 office, distant seventeen miles ; and so we are 

 in touch with the outer world. One learns 

 in this poor and thinly populated land how 

 backward we English have been in the use of 

 such appliances. 



On St. John's Eve, the 23rd of June, it 

 is customary for the lads and lasses of the 

 country-side to assemble here, and to dance 

 on the green sward in the centre of the farm 

 buildings through the night. A fiddler, to 



