s prismatic colors that flashed
through them, created an impression that the whole was some wild, mad
freak of the elements, gotten up to furnish the traveler with a
startling idea of the wonders and beauties of Norwegian scenery.

[Illustration: PASSAGE ON THE DRIV.]

CHAPTER XXXV.

A NORWEGIAN HORSE-JOCKEY.

Late one evening I arrived at a lonely little station by the wayside,
not far beyond the valley of the Drivsdal. I was cold and hungry, and
well disposed to enjoy whatever good cheer the honest people who kept
the inn might have in store for me. The house and outbuildings were
such as belong to an ordinary farming establishment, and did not
promise much in the way of entertainment. Upon entering the rustic
doorway I was kindly greeted by the host--a simple, good-natured
looking man--who, as usual, showed me into the best room. Now I am not
aware of any thing in my appearance that entitles me to this
distinction, but it has generally been my fate, in this sort of
travel, to be set apart and isolated from the common herd in the fancy
room of the establishment, which I have always found to be
correspondingly the coldest and most uncomfortable. It is a great
annoyance in Norway to be treated as a gentleman. The commonest lout
can enjoy the cozy glow and social gossip of the kitchen or ordinary
sitting-room, but the traveler whom these good people would honor must
sit shivering and alone in some great barn of a room because it
contains a sofa, a bureau, a looking-glass, a few mantle-piece
ornaments, and an occasional picture of the king or some member of the
royal family. I have walked up and down these dismal chambers for
hours at a time, staring at the daubs on the walls, and picking up
little odds and ends of ornaments, and gazing vacantly at them, till I
felt a numbness steal all over me, accompanied by a vague presentiment
that I was imprisoned for life. The progress of time is a matter of no
importance in Norway. To an American, accustomed to see every thing
done with energy and promptness, it is absolutely astounding--the
indifference of these people to the waste of hours. They seem to be
forever asleep, or doing something that bears no possible reference to
their ostensible business. If you are hungry and want something to eat
in a few minutes, the probability is you will be left alone in the
fine room for several hours, at the expiration of which you discover
that the inn-keeper is out in the st