The Argosy — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

136 About Norway. On the Tuesday night the midnight sun was really seen for the first time. We had been steering amidst sounds and harbours, and peaks covered with eternal snows, full of the utmost beauty. The sun went downwards in its course, and we watched the changing colours in all their gorgeousness. ‘Then, nearing the horizon, the sun seemed to hover for a moment in mid-air, crept a little parallel with the horizon, and commenced his upward course again. Nothing could be more certain than the change of colouring between the sun setting and the sun rising; the distinctly different effects of light and tone ; though the sun never even reached the horizon. Yet it was palpable and mysterious. Was it because in the one case the light gradually but imperceptibly decreased, and in the other gradually increased again ? We had left the Lofodens when we saw our first midnight sun effect, and were steering for Troms6, a quaint northern town in the neighbourhood of the Lapps. It was to be almost our last halting- place before reaching the North Cape: where I hope to land the reader in the next paper; but not, if possible, in such weather as we then encountered, The most cruel, cutting wind ; the most blinding storm of snow and sleet; the most lowering leaden sky that could possibly have greeted unhappy mortals in the broad light of mid- night, any tenth of July, in this nineteenth century of grace. HIS SUNLIGHT. Who hath not stood upon some mountain height And watched the earth, mist-mantled, grey and cold, And longed the veil to lift, and see unfold A thousand beauties to his wondering sight ? When lo! the sun has risen with magic might, The mists have melted—mountains grand and bold, Fair dimpling vales, and many a peaceful fold, All, all are sparkling in the morning light. Of us the type; while wrapped in selfish ease, Who can discern in us the Godhead’s plan? Seeking none other than himself to please, How poor, imperfect, dark, the soul of man! But once //7s glorious sunlight pierces through, The mist is gone, and Heaven disclosed to view ! E. L. Gomicdbooks