THE GALLANT OLE, FAREWELL.

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With unfeigned regret we parted with our gallant Ole Halvorsen, of Rödsheim. Always punctual, eventempered, and ever anxious to save us any unnecessary expense; possessed of much practical experience of a large region of wild country; ready to camp out on the mountain side without a tent; undaunted in the hour of difficulty; never at fault, quick in expedients, cool and calm; of few words, but full of information; we pay this parting tribute to our excellent Ole Halvorsen.

Ole said he had never fared so well in the mountains. It was a compliment to our cook and commissariat.

Good-by, Mr. Ambrose, good-by, Miss daughter, and master Zâkēē,” said Ole.

Good-by, Mr. Rödsheim," said our gipsies as we shook hands, and with our parting farewell, and good wishes, Ole was soon far up the mountain side.

Our donkeys were already loaded. In a very short time we had crossed the river, and had reached the Bergen road. Our party came forth from the deep recesses of the Horungerne mountains with new energy; issuing forth, as it were, from the vast wilderness of peak, glacier, lake, and river, to the civilized world. The distance to Christiania was yet considerable; the time we could allow ourselves was short; the summer fast waning, yet we had gathered renewed energy. Our donkeys pricked their ears when they found themselves on the hard road. Nothing could exceed the health and spirits of our party. A few forced marches would accomplish all we required. Mephistopheles said it could not be done in the time, and was quickly snuffed out.

It is necessary to push on in this world. Splangy when he goes out to hunt, will always be in somewhere.

It is true his weight may be a stone or two more than his hunter can well carry. It is equally certain that Splangy's mare is disinclined to jump if it can bore through a fence. If she stumbles into the first ditch, Splangy tumbles into the second. Still Splangy never looses the reins; he pulls through, and is always in

somewhere.

Then there are Johnson and Toboys, men of business. Johnson is said to sleep with one eye open, and Toboys never sleeps at all. They have business all over the world. For instance, when an order is given, it is sent in to the day. It is pushed through. The set of chairs are in the drawing-room, never mind if the owner, a few days afterwards, sits on one with a defective leg, and is flat on the floor, with the chair upon him. He is painfully reminded of Johnson and Toboys' address. Well, after all, says he, they were delivered in time for me to receive the Prussian Ambassador. With many other firms, says the owner, I should have had to wait two years, when the chintz would be faded, and the fashion gone. Johnson and Toboys, of course, get the order for his dining-room. The furniture van dashes up; all is delivered on the day. What matter if one chair is afterwards discovered legless. Ah! says the owner, holding it up, it is well cushioned, and comfortable. What matter if, forgetting the legs, he sits down, turning an acrobatic back-somersault in the air? Carpets are thick now-a-days; no bones are broken. The owner is only painfully reminded of Johnson and Toboys' address. Never mind, says the owner, after all, they were in time for me to receive my friend Fitful and his wife from India. It soon turns out the workman who had the legs,

THE BERGEN ROAD.

had no head; they were only forgotten.

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Johnson and

Toboys have made their fortune, whilst some firms are thinking about it. Let us push on.

The Bergen road was reached by our party, at a point

The trout of Nystuen We were at the foot of

between Nystuen and Skogstad. are said to be exceedingly good. the Fille Fjeld. The scenery was charming as we followed the road down to Skogstad; all down hill, and an excellent road. Groves of birch, mountain willow, and alder trees, alternating with rock scenes, and fir wood. The Findal's Horn rises to our right. Allons done! How gaily the Puru Rawnee, with her jingling bells stepped out; ever leading; head well up, as if in her pride, she knew she was always admired. We shall never see another donkey like her; such fine long legs, clean, and admirably shaped, stepping under her heavy load, as if it was nothing. Allons donc! as we rapidly followed the winding road, and our party soon reached Skogstad Station. We had parted from Ole at the sæter, at twenty minutes past twelve o'clock, and reached Skogstad at half-past one. In we went to get some fladbröd. Whilst the pige was getting the fladbröd, we went into a very small comfortable side room. Seeing a curiously inlaid violin hanging up, we asked the pige the price. She brought the master of the station; he called the ostler. It now appeared the ostler was a fabricator of violins; a musical genius. The short old man, who wore breeches on very bow legs, reached out another violin from a cupboard. This was of more recent manufacture, and far better tone. The station-master, who was a very pleasant obliging man, prevailed on the ostler to play a tune.

"An ancient Norwegian air," said

the station-master. We can only say the composer must have been far from lively at the time of composition. The old man sawed away in a slow methodical manner. As contrasted with our camp music, it was lugubrious. How delighted Ole Bull, the celebrated Norwegian violinist, would have been with his countryman's performance. Mephistopheles was nearly in a fit. We ordered a bottle of excellent ale, and gave the ostler a glass to drink gamle norge. The ostler had exhausted his inspiration, and the ale had no reviving effect. The gipsies and myself, therefore, finished the rest. Ah! what about strict camp rules? We are not in camp, we are in the Skogstad Station. Then Mephistopheles played some rather stirring airs on the new violin and the old one. We understood it was one of the Hardanger violins, and asked the price. The station-master and the two pige stood by, whilst Mephistopheles played. Then the station-master said, "English," and smiled. The ostler wanted three dollars. We were considering, trying, discussing, when up drove some carrioles to the station; English travellers in knickerbockers. Out went the old ostler; out went the station-master. We paid the pige for the fladbröd and öl. Noah took the Hardanger violin, if it was one, under his arm. The ostler was outside, standing by the pony of the first carriole just put in. We handed three paper dollars to the old man. "Fire," said the old fellow, showing four fingers. "Nei! Nei!" said Noah. "No," said we, finding the old man had suddenly raised his price. "Tre," and we put out our hand with our three dollars. The two young girls were close by him with anxious countenances, evidently expecting we should give up the purchase.

The scene was famous, Skogstad Station, and its picturesque scenery. Carrioles before the entrance with ponies just put in, and ponies just taken out. Jolly station-master; English travellers in knickerbockers just getting into carrioles. Two rather pretty Norwegian girls standing beside the old ostler; old ostler, the picture of irresolution. His melancholy countenance,

expressing anxiety to get one dollar more. Esmeralda at our elbow, telling us not to let the gorgio do Mandy. Her tall gipsy brother waiting for the ancient violin, Mephistopheles saying: "Maw kin the Bosh, sir, if he don't lel the three dollars."* We were just going off; the old man suddenly clutched the three dollar notes. Noah

*Don't buy the fiddle, sir, if he does not take three dollars.