e thirty-fifth mile, and drew up in the courtyard of
the station at Frydenlund, Graygown sprang out, with a little sigh of
regret.

"Is it last night," she cried, "or to-morrow morning? I have n't the
least idea what time it is; it seems as if we had been travelling in
eternity."

"It is just ten o'clock," I answered, "and the landlord says there will
be a hot supper of trout ready for us in five minutes."

It would be vain to attempt to give a daily record of the whole
journey in which we made this fair beginning. It was a most idle and
unsystematic pilgrimage. We wandered up and down, and turned aside when
fancy beckoned. Sometimes we hurried on as fast as the horses would
carry us, driving sixty or seventy miles a day; sometimes we loitered
and dawdled, as if we did not care whether we got anywhere or not. If a
place pleased us, we stayed and tried the fishing. If we were tired of
driving, we took to the water, and travelled by steamer along a fjord,
or hired a rowboat to cross from point to point. One day we would be in
a good little hotel, with polyglot guests, and serving-maids in stagey
Norse costumes,--like the famous inn at Stalheim, which commands the
amazing panorama of the Naerodal. Another day we would lodge in a plain
farmhouse like the station at Nedre Vasenden, where eggs and fish were
the staples of diet, and the farmer's daughter wore the picturesque
peasants' dress, with its tall cap, without any dramatic airs. Lakes
and rivers, precipices and gorges, waterfalls and glaciers and snowy
mountains were our daily repast. We drove over five hundred miles in
various kinds of open wagons, KARIOLS for one, and STOLKJAERRES for
two, after we had left our comfortable gig behind us. We saw the ancient
dragon-gabled church of Burgund; and the delightful, showery town of
Bergen; and the gloomy cliffs of the Geiranger-Fjord laced with filmy
cataracts; and the bewitched crags of the Romsdal; and the wide,
desolate landscape of Jerkin; and a hundred other unforgotten scenes.
Somehow or other we went, (around and about, and up and down, now
on wheels, and now on foot, and now in a boat,) all the way from
Christiania to Throndhjem. My lady Graygown could give you the exact
itinerary, for she has been well brought up, and always keeps a diary.
All I know is, that we set out from one city and arrived at the other,
and we gathered by the way a collection of instantaneous photographs.
I am going to turn them over now, a