558 
THE AMERICAN-SC AN DIN AVIAN REVIEW 
more beautiful. The boat draws over to the left and we round the 
fjord. A wonderful surprise! A long deep valley at the end of which 
I know Rjukan must lie stretches out before us, and the almost spent 
sun showers a golden welcome. The boat comes up to the dock, and 
we step off to take the train for the few remaining miles to Rjukan. 
The enchanted city! I am in it! Norway has given me the thrill 
I never hoped to get. Who has not read about the mining towns in the 
Western States when the gold rush boom is at its height?—the gay 
but busy atmosphere of a town whose people are all happy, because 
they are hustlers; where money comes easily, and goes more easily; 
where the future is bright and there is plenty for every one. They 
dug gold out of the ground; here they take it from the air. Rjukan, 
the town we read about, is the “gold town” of Norway. Ten years 
ago an unknown and out-of-the-way corner in a land of many corners. 
Now a city which can thrill to the roots one who has seen the magnifi¬ 
cent New York and the throbbing London! A city which the sun 
does not reach for five whole months in the year because of the high 
mountains on either side, but which shines nevertheless. It sparkles 
with thousands of electric lights, as far as the eye can see down the 
long valley—a beautiful valley, the like of which I have never seen. 
Wonderful! 
One sound above all others, the hum of machinery—electrical 
machinery, turbine-generator units which magically transform a 
beautiful waterfall way up in the mountains into that marvelous 
fluid, electricity. The hum is prosperity, it enthuses you, you admire 
the men who laid the plans for this machine of industry. You go 
into a moving picture theatre and are soon looking down Wall Street, 
New York—another and different kind of thrill. You come out 
again, and there is still the hum, the long row of twinkling lights, 
the high, dark mountains. You walk to your lodgings, the hum still 
follows you. “Does it ever stop?” you ask. “Yes, once each year for 
about two days.” Day and night! You go to your room, but the 
hum goes with you, always, never ceasing. Just one moment’s rest! 
Surely not beginning to tire of it? You have been here only a few 
hours; other people have lived here ten years. Ever the hum! You 
go to sleep with it in your ears and wake in the morning still in its 
bondage. But it is industry; it is bread for these thousands of people. 
We must get used to it. 
Rjukan, the home of Norwegian saltpeter, the boom town of 
Norway, I am glad I saw you, felt you. You have given me a thrill 
I can never forget. Norway has satisfied. 
