ene at this point of the journey is inexpressibly desolate.

Bare, whitish-colored hills bound the horizon on the right; in front
is a dreary waste, through which the road winds like a thread till
lost in the dim haze of the distance; and to the left the everlasting
snows of Snaehatten. A few wretched cabins are scattered at remote
intervals over the desert plains, in which the shepherds seek shelter
from the inclemency of the weather, which even in midsummer is often
piercingly raw. Herds of rattle, sheep, and goats were grazing over
the rocky wastes of the Fjeld. Reindeer are sometimes seen in this
vicinity, but not often within sight of the road. The only vegetation
produced here is reindeer moss, and a coarse sort of grass growing in
bunches over the plain. I met several shepherds on the way dressed in
something like a characteristic costume--frieze jackets with brass
buttons, black knee-breeches, a red night-cap, and armed with the
usual staff or shepherd's crook, represented in pictures, and much
discoursed of by poets:

"Methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;"

but not on the Dovre Fjelds of Norway. It must be rather a dull
business in that region, taking into consideration the barren plains,
the bleak winds, and desolate aspect of the country. No sweet hawthorn
bushes are there, beneath which these rustic philosophers can sit,

"Looking on their silly sheep."

Shepherd life must be a very dismal reality indeed. And yet there is
no accounting for tastes. At one point of the road, beyond Folkstuen,
where a sluggish lagoon mingles its waters with the barren slopes of
the Fjeld, I saw an Englishman standing up to his knees in a dismal
marsh fishing for trout.

The weather was cold enough to strike a chill into one's very marrow;
yet this indefatigable sportsman had come more than a thousand miles
from his native country to enjoy himself in this way. He was a genuine
specimen of an English snob--self-sufficient, conceited, and
unsociable; looking neither to the right nor the left, and terribly
determined not to commit himself by making acquaintance with casual
travelers speaking the English tongue. I stopped my cariole within a
few paces and asked him "what luck?" One would think the sound of his
native tongue would have been refreshing to him in this dreary
wilderness; but, without deigning to raise his head, he merely
answered in a gruff tone, "Don't know, sir-