The Argosy — page 145: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

132 A bout Norway. pine logs lashed together. One spot on the hill side had been worn smooth and bare as a road, and for a moment we wondered what had caused this bald place amongst the fir-clad hills: until, at the summit, dwarfed by distance, might be seen men hard at work ; and great pine logs, stripped of their bark, came rolling down the incline, splashed into the water, and shot out upon their downward journey. Presently a fresh, clean-looking maiden in a snow-white cap and apron came up, and smilingly informed us that dinner was served. Instinct more than reason interpreted her message. We followed her into the little cabin, and with a ‘‘ Var so got ”—literally ‘‘ Be so good,” the ‘If you please” of the Norwegians, and the phrase used by them on all possible occasions, whether telling you that your dinner is served, or your carriole waiting, or politely excusing an injury—she closed the door upon us, and left us to our repast. It consisted of | tinned beef steaks, potatoes well boiled, and excellent beer, the usual beverage of the country. It is light and frothy, and served in bottles. If drunk as soon as opened it is very palatable, but it quickly becomes flat, stale, and unprofitable. We were glad enough to break our fast with fare so much better than we expected, and did justice to a meal for which the sum of two shillings and threepence was charged. The lake was about sixteen miles long; at the end of which the Doat passed into the river Baegna, the only difference being that the stream now narrowed and became more rapid. At certain times the river is not navigable, and then travellers have to land at Naes, and continue the journey by road. The scene as we steamed up the river was beautiful. To the left rose the huge and precipitous mass of rocky mountain that seemed to terrify Miss B., which really looked like some petrified monster of night-mare dimensions, about to take back its animation and annihilate us. Dark, gloomy, and frowning were its sides, a perpendicular wall rising high and wide out of the water. It was almost a relief to pass beyond into the regions of more smiling, fertile hills, giving shelter to farms and plantations of birch trees, some of which, uprooted by the waters in their rising, were nodding a farewell to life, and sinking into the stream. Thus we made way, until, about seven o’clock, we reached Sorum. Mr. Bennett’s plan had marked out a stage further on by land; but our kindly fellow-travellers were going to make Sorum their head- quarters for that night, and urged us to do likewise. A proposal we willingly, and wisely, adopted. Up the little landing pier, and a few yards onwards, we came to the settlement of Sorum, our first sight and experience of a Norwegian “station.” It is by the help of these ‘‘stations” that one gets through the country, and without them travelling would be out of the question. The stations, as a rule, take their names from the people to whom they belong, and who generally live in them. They are for the most part small farms, more or less cultivated and productive ECORNIECLOOKS.E© m