doubled, its population, within the last twenty years, Norway must advance.* It is a country where one breathes a true spirit of freedom. Norway exhibits an instance of the greatest amount of liberty being quite compatible with a monarchical form of government.

Sometimes we lounged at Paperviken, watching the anglers, as we waited for the steamer, when we were going to visit our friend the Chevalier.

The hospitality of the Chevalier and his agreeable wife was boundless.

We believe we only slept once in our room, at the Victoria. Then our host had friends, and very pleasant hours we spent with them.

One clergyman knew something of the Romany language, and was much interested in our gipsies. Then we had Norwegian souvenirs to purchase for our friends in England.

A camp kettle was purchased for tall Noah, exactly of similar pattern to that used by Ole Halvorsen. It was the one great wish of Noah's existence. Esmeralda was not forgotten.

Then there was the usual lounge at that quaint old place 17 Store Strandgade, where you are sure to find Mr. Bennett, and some English tourists whose heads are full of carrioles, forbuds, fast and slow stations, routes, provisions for their Tine, and a bewildering amount of small money of all sorts and sizes.

* Lieutenant Breton, R.N., in his "Scandinavian Sketches; or, A Tour in Norway," published, 1835, by J. Bohn, King William Street, Strand, says, at page 50, with reference to Christiania, "Fifty-six English visited the city last year." The annual number of tourists since that period have wonderfully increased.

+ Pronounced " Teena," a small wooden box, often used in Norway to carry provisions.

Then we met with our friend from the Poet's House at Eisbod, who had quite recovered. He dined with us, and whiffed his cigar in the charming smoking, and lounging-room of the Victoria.

Nor did we forget to look into Christopherson's diningroom, or take our cup of coffee under the verandah there, with its trees before it, and the small tables and chairs under it, reminding us of the Paris boulevards.

The weather was so sunny, the atmosphere so pure and clear, and our visit rendered so pleasant by kind friends, that with much reluctance we ordered our things to be taken from the Victoria to the steamer.

Christiania, with its palace, Storthing House, Library, Museum of Northern Antiquities and zoological collection ; its Oscarshall with Tiedman's paintings, the old castle of the Agershuus, must now be left.

Our gipsies left their last camp on the Christiania Fjord that morning. The wooded knoll above the Fjord to the left of our engraving was the last camp of the English gipsies in Norway.

Parting souvenirs had been given them by our friends which showed the interest they had taken in them. All our baggage was safe on board the steamer, and our Puru Rawnee and Puro Rye were on deck.

The steam is up. We say farewell to our valued

friend the Chevalier. The view of Scandinavian scenery he left in our hands, as a parting gift from his lovely young wife and himself, will always be prized. Adieu, also, to our friend from the "Poet's House" at Eisbod. Adieu, Norway, adieu !!!

Esmeralda's and Noah's tambourines may never again be heard in the Norwegian valleys. Zachariah's violin is

Our guitar is put up.

silent. farewell !!!

Once more we say

We had our usual complement of passengers, officers, tourists, and fishermen, including our former fellow passengers, the officer and his handsome wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather, and the portly gentleman, whom we had also met at Christiania. The Birmingham bag

man had, somehow, not found his way out of the Horungerne mountains, or wherever he might be.

The vessel was well ventilated, but we preferred the "Albion;" the "Hero" being full-decked from stem to stern, there was very little shelter, except in the smoke

room.

We had a number of Norwegian emigrants, going to America, in the second-class cabins.

No accommodation had been provided for our donkeys. They were left to take their chance on deck, in a cold, damp night, at sea. When we went to see them, our Puru Rawnee looked as if she could have kicked H. Heitman overboard. Captain Nicholson did what he could for us, when we spoke to him about them. No agent of common feeling would have left them thus to take their chance. As God is to man, so man is to animals. Kindness is required from man to those living creatures created for his use.

We could not help liking Captain Nicholson. There was a manly spirit about him, and at the same time we saw he possessed a kindly heart. The sailors put up by his directions afterwards, a sort of rude tent of sails, under which our donkeys had to balance themselves, on the wet deck, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, and out of place. They had been exposed all the Friday night near the fore-hatchway, without the slightest shelter.

It so happened that by good fortune John Smith was our steward, his wife the stewardess. They are wonderful people. John Smith is slightly past the meridian of age; a little bald, but active and stirring, and of such energy! Always on his legs. He could far surpass the most distinguished, and eminent acrobat, in the way he balanced plates, dishes of fowl, bottles of champagne, anchovy sauce, wine glasses, and dozens of other things besides.

"Coming, sir. Iced champagne, if you please; who said seltzer water and brandy? Mange tak. Eating sir! nothing but eating!"

Impatient tourist.-" John Smith, you have not given me any sauce with my fish."

"Caper, sir, or Worstershire? Coming, captain. Oh,

dear! what are they about up there? Oh, here it is, all hot. That's right," says John Smith, balancing hot plates, on the tips of his fingers, as if he expected a round of applause from the passengers. "Here you are—hot plates, sir. Perry for you. Did you say tea? ver so artig. Sugar and cream-Tak skal de have. The year's over-bang, bang. Thank goodness, here are some empty bottles broken-I did not know what to do with them. How could I find a father for so many dead men? Ah, pease pudding for you, sir-half a pound? No, not for you, sir. You, sir? Here it is on a smaller think it was the same.

plate, so that you should not I wish I could change my name; I'm tired of hearing it. Have you everything you want, sir?" as he looked across the table at us. "More bread? here it is, sir," and the identical John Smith still pushed about without assistance, but every finger, was worth its weight in gold.

On Saturday morning we came to Christiansand, and on going ashore received two letters from the post-office, paying eighteen skillings. They were both from some English gipsies, who expected we should be all killed in the war. Their ideas of geography were very loose.

Our gipsies are quite hors de combat, and wretchedly seasick and helpless. On Sunday, our last day at sea, the weather was rough, wet, and excessively disagreeable. We were up at five o'clock. Only four passengers, and Captain Nicholson, appeared at breakfast when we sat down.

A Mr. McG, an old veteran fishing-tackle maker, was never sea-sick, and particularly hardy. The Honourable Mr. V, who had camped out in America, with his tent, and the tall owner of the Rus Vand, were