traveller at such times, a longing for some
congenial companion with whom to share all this glowing experience.
"Joy was born a twin." Fulness of appreciation and delight can be
reached only by being shared.

Amid such scenes as we have described rises the enormous Svartisen
glacier, its ice and snow defying the power of the sun. This glacier
is many miles in length and nearly as wide as it is long, covering a
plateau four thousand feet above the level of the sea. The dimensions
given the author upon the spot were so mammoth that he hesitates to
record them; but it is by far the most extensive one he has ever
seen. Sulitelma, the highest mountain in Lapland, six thousand feet
above the sea, crowned by a shroud of eternal snow, comes into view,
though it is nearly fifty miles inland. The snow-level about this
latitude of 69 deg. north is five hundred feet above that of the sea,
below which, wherever the earth can find a foothold on the rocks, all
is delightfully green,--a tender delicate green, such as marks the
early spring foliage of New England, or the leaves of the young
locust. The heat of the brief summer sun is intense, and insect life
thrives marvellously in common with the more welcome vegetation.
Birch and willow trees seem best adapted to withstand the rigor of
these regions, and they thrive in the warm season with a vitality and
beauty of effect which is heightened by the ever-present contrast.
Every hour of the voyage seemed burdened with novelty, and ceaseless
vigilance possessed every faculty. A transparent haze at mid-day or
midnight lay like a golden veil over land and sea; objects even at a
short distance presented a shadowy and an unreal aspect. The rough
and barren islands which we passed in our midnight course often
exhibited one side glorified with gorgeous roseate hues, while
casting sombre and mysterious shadows behind them, which produced a
strangely weird effect, half of delight, half of awe, while the long
superb trail of sunlight crept towards us from the horizon.

The attractions of Norway to the artist are many, and in a great
measure they are unique, especially in the immediate vicinity of the
west coast. No two of the many abrupt elevations resemble each other,
all are erratic; some like Alpine cathedrals seemingly rear their
fretted spires far heavenward, where they echo the hoarse anthems
played by the winters' storms. One would think that Nature in a
wayward mood had tried her hand sp