eason
for tourists lasts only about three months, and during the remainder
of the year very few strangers have occasion to pass over the roads.
In winter--which, of course, lasts very long in this latitude--the
whole country is covered with snow, and sledges are altogether used,
both for purposes of traveling and the transportation of merchandise
from the sea-board. The products of the country--such as logs, spars,
and boards--are prepared during these months for rafting down the
rivers during the spring floods. Once, as I was told, an enterprising
Englishman had started a regular stage-line from Christiania to
Trondhjem, in consequence of the repeated complaints of the traveling
public, who objected to the delays to which they were subject; but he
was soon obliged to discontinue it for want of patronage. When
travelers had a convenient way of getting over, they grumbled at being
hurried through, and preferred taking the usual conveyances of the
country, which afforded them an opportunity of enjoying the scenery
and stopping wherever they pleased. People did not come all the way to
Norway, they said, to fly through it without seeing any of its wonders
and beauties. There was some philosophy in this, as well as a touch of
human nature. It reminded me of the Frenchman in Paris who lived to be
eighty years of age without ever leaving the city; when the king, for
the sake of experiment, positively forbid him from doing so during the
remainder of his life. The poor fellow was immediately seized with an
inordinate desire to see something of the outside world, and
petitioned so hard for the privilege of leaving the city that the
king, unable to resist his importunities, granted him the privilege,
after which the man was perfectly satisfied, and remained in Paris to
the day of his death.

By reference to a copy of the laws on the subject of post-travel,
which I had procured in Christiania from a Mr. Bennett, I discovered
that the system is singularly complicated and hazardous, as well as a
little curious in some of its details. The stations are situated along
the road about every eight or ten miles (counted in Norwegian by so
many hours). Nothing that we could call a village is to be seen in any
part of the interior, unless the few straggling farm-houses
occasionally huddled together, with a church in the centre, may be
considered in that light. The stations usually stand alone, in some
isolated spot on the wayside, and consis