30 WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 



the big harpoon. He takes us round the works, where forty 

 years of fire and iron have made their mark ; remains of 

 failures are there ; of burnt building and scrapped metal, 

 but, besides, there are these fascinating stacks of modern 

 harpoons and piles of their shell points to be used for great 

 hunting in all seas. 



The " Old Man " chuckles as we wander from forge to 

 forge and out amongst the geraniums in the yard as he tells 

 me how the first harpoon they tried went over the walls of 

 the works and landed through the umbrella of an old lady 

 in the street, and stood upright between the cobblestones. 

 You may believe they practised out of town after that ! 

 Though old seventy-eight years to-day he is enthusiastic 

 about our new plan of whaling. He has formed a yacht 

 club ; everyone yachts at Tonsberg. It is on a small island 

 of little plots of grass between boulders and small fir-trees. 

 We were invited there to-day for the celebration of his birth- 

 day. There were ladies in pretty summer dresses in groups, 

 cakes, teas, fruit and pleasing drinks, coffee and cigars, and 

 wasps by the thousands. Norwegian ladies cultivate cool- 

 ness, and merely brush these away as they hand us cakes 

 and wine ; and they would be greatly offended if a man were 

 to attempt to hand tea cakes. For the carpet knight there 

 is no show. I wish he could be exterminated at home. Do 

 the gods not laugh when they see our menkind in frock 

 coats or shooting kit handing tea and cakes to females ? 



These pretty groups of summer-clad figures amongst 

 lichen-covered rocks and rowans, fir-trees, oaks and honey- 

 suckle were all reflected in the still water. As the sun sank 

 low and a mosquito or two began to sing, fairy lamps were 

 lit amongst the trees, and softly shone on groups of men and 

 women in light raiment in leafy bowers. The light from the 

 yellow and red lamps contrasted with the last blue of day. 

 There was warm air and moths, cards and smokes, and then 

 came music, and a perfect ballroom floor and blue eyes and 

 light feet a kindly welcome to the stranger in Gamle Norge. 



In the dark before dawn, with lighted Japanese lanterns, 

 ladies and men threaded their way over the flat rocks to 

 motor launches and bade good-bye to the hosts. I shall not 



