2 
WILD NORWAY. 
fairly well up to date. But the earth is unfinished— 
without form and void—its matter and material only 
emergent from embryonic stages. One enters, in short, 
the green-room of geology.* I can understand, though 
I do not endorse, the complaint that her scenery is 
monotonous; but a sentiment, once overheard, that 
“Norway is dull,” seems indicative of intellectual 
poverty. 
Norwegian scenery may be said to begin where that 
of other lands leaves oft*. Nature here arrays herself 
on giant scale. There is nothing small, even by way 
of contrast; though there is infinite softness in the 
half-lights of the north and the subdued colouring of 
the fjords. The general aspect may be—aye, is— 
of gloomy type; but the extremity of sternness is 
relieved, in spring, by the brilliant emerald of the 
foreshores and light, feathery foliage of the birch. 
Then, in August, masses of heather bloom purple even 
down to sea-level. In the forests the glory of autumnal 
tints can nowhere be rivalled, while russet and crimson 
mosses and fell-grasses of every hue clothe the lower 
slopes. These pleasing colour-reliefs grow gradually 
less and less marked as one voyages northwards; and 
beyond the polar circle but little of softness survives 
in a landscape composed of black rock-mountains, of 
glaciers, and eternal snow—always impressive, often 
almost appalling, when cloud-masses half shroud frown¬ 
ing precipices, and a glint of sunlight impinging on 
some snow-field far above, enhances the effect. For 
fantastic grandeur of form there is nothing in Europe 
* I am not a botanist, but believe the Norwegian flora is largely 
of that early order “ whose seed is in itself.” 
