he wild strawberry put forth its small, red fruit. The rein-deer moss
being purely white, like hoar frost, the scarlet colour of the
strawberry mingling thickly with it, conveyed pleasure to the eye, and a
feeling of delicacy to the mind. Our path did not become less irksome
now we had left the gravel behind, for the moss yielded with its
softness so much to the feet, that it sometimes covered our ankles; but
panting with desire to ascend the supreme brow of the mountain, fatigue
succumbed to the resuscitation of spiritual vigour.

Standing on a solitary patch of snow that spread over the highest point
of the mountain we found ourselves on a level plain with the lofty chain
of the Reenfjeld, separated from us by a gulf of fifteen miles, at the
bottom of which flowed the Sogne Fiord diminished in its wide expanse to
a river, and darkened to the sable dye of ebony by the intersecting
shadows of numerous mountains. The general character of the Norwegian
mountains being perfectly flat on the top, the distance seen where we
stood was very great; and the table-land assumed more solemn grandeur,
free as it almost was from glaciers, since, with livelier relief, the
peaks that cleaved the air shone brilliantly with their snowy hoods; and
over an infinite extent of country, diversifying no other verdure with
that of the tawny moss, these peaks, rising numberlessly, one over the
other, seemed like conical loaves of white sugar placed on an enormous
sheet of brown paper.

Taking up a handful of snow, we jestingly alluded to the occupation of
our cockney friends at the same moment, and saw them, in fancy, tricked
out with the Gallic finery of kid gloves and nankeen trowsers,
strutting through the crowded thoroughfares of Regent Street, or ambling
in Rotten Row.

"Yes, by George!" observed R----, who had been silently scraping the
snow together, and levelling it with his foot again, "I remember the
time when, about this hour of the day, and season of the year, then
somewhat younger than I am now, I used to look at men who talked of
anything else but balls, operas, and Hyde Park, as so many marvels of
imbecility; but now their good sense and just estimation of life oppress
me with the recollection of that lost portion of my own youth passed in
all the puppyism of fashion."

"Ay," I replied, "there is one consolation in growing old, we grow wiser
in our wickedness."

"Well, and if men are, de natura, depraved," continued R----, "a