The Argosy — page 385: what you’re looking at

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

366 About Norway. ‘‘ Klingenberg,” I returned, wondering what could be its deri- vation. ‘* A strange word for landlord.” ‘‘Very strange,” answered Herr Lindstrom, yet looking as if he thought the strangeness all on my side. But, never doubting, I accepted the lesson. ‘This, too, presently gave rise to sundry cross- questions and crooked answers. | The wild mountains were so close to the inn as to overshadow it, and seemed to crush upon us. Several small waterfalls trickled down the sides immediately before us, like silvery threads, making music as they ran—rather too much music when it came to the silent hours of the night. Yet the next morning arrived only too soon. But with the excitement of new scenes energy revived. At eight o’clock the boatmen were waiting at the door of the inn, and we started on our way to the Vettifos, one of the great waterfalls and wonders of Norway. It goes under different names—-the Vettifos, the Vettisfos, the Morkfos, and the Morkavettisfos. We passed down the straggling street, found the boat at the shores of the fjord, and were soon out upon the deep waters. The men, knowing what was before them, began, continued, and ended their work in an especially calm and leisurely manner, that slightly taxed one’s patience. Yet we made way, surely if slowly, and found that Laerdal was beginning to grow less distinct, until it looked no more than a small colony of fishermen’s huts at the head of the fjord; a handful of tenements dwarfed to the size of toy houses and Noah’s arks by the surrounding heights. At length we turned an angle and it was lost to sight. We were now surrounded by gloomy mountains, wild, barren, and severe, towering in all directions, diversified in outline, and full of majestic grandeur. Before us, a vast expanse of water, like an immense lake, calm and tranquil, its dark green, almost black tinge, telling of immense and cruel depths. For upwards of four hours we were rowing amidst such scenes, varied only by an occasional fir-clad hill, and tiny house on the mountain slope, where men were chopping and stacking wood; singing a song the while, which went ringing across the water, and seemed to startle by its merriment all the surrounding silence and gloom. Often, for long together not a sound broke the stillness, save the measured dip of the oars, as the men, leisurely as ever, carried us onward. To avoid the tide they hugged the shore in many places, and at one time came upon one of the small settlements—the little house on the slope, surrounded by pines, and the men chopping wood. This was a favourable moment for a rest. An animated conversation ensued in a language that seemed a pot-pourri of Chinese and chop- sticks (this is not meant for a pun, reader), and away we shot again ; leaving the choppers to their work—and how remote from the world! So at last another turn brought us in sight of Aardal. Here CONMICLMOO KSaeroyan) ) '