fifty dollars! I was much relieved; but by
this time the old man, unable to bear the torrent of reproaches heaped
upon him by his good wife for his stupidity, swore she must have made
a mistake. He was sure he had counted a hundred and sixty; therefore
he would count it again, all alone, which he proceeded to do, very
slowly and cautiously. This time the result was a hundred and
fifty-five dollars. "The devil's in it!" cried the astonished dealer;
"there's some magic about it! I don't understand it. I must count it
again!" The woman, however, being satisfied that it was all right, I
now thought it best to return to my seat by the fire, where she soon
began to busy herself preparing the supper, turning round now and then
of course to let off a broadside at her old man. She took occasion to
inform me, during the progress of her culinary labors, that he was a
very good sort of man, but was somewhat addicted to brandy-wine, of
which he had partaken a little too freely on the present occasion. I
must excuse him. She would send him to bed presently. And now, if I
pleased, supper was ready.

I could not help thinking, as I lay in bed that night, how lucky it
was for these simple-minded people that they lived in the interior of
Norway. Even in California, where public and private integrity is the
prevailing trait of the people, it would hardly be considered safe to
pull out a bag of money at a wayside inn and show it to every passing
stranger. I have known men there in high public positions whom I would
scarcely like to tempt in that way, especially if there was money
enough in the bag to make robbery respectable.

All along the route during the next day the scenery was a continued
feast of enjoyment. In looking back over it now, however, after the
lapse of several months, it would be difficult to recall any thing
beyond its general features--pine-covered mountains, green valleys,
dark rocky glens, foaming torrents of water, and groups of farm-houses
by the wayside. At Bjerkager I reached the first of the
"slow-stations;" that is to say, the established post-houses, where a
margin of three hours is allowed for a change of horses. I had
supposed that in a country, and on a public route, where during the
summer there must be considerable travel, it would hardly be possible
that so long a delay could take place; but in this I was mistaken. The
slow-stations are emphatically slow; the keepers are slow, the horses
are slow, the w