The Norwegians are great advertisers. I have never seen in any other country such a complete utilization of every inch of available space. Inside the electric cars layers of “ads,” three deep, line the car above the windows. A clock in the middle of the car is surrounded by them; the electric lights and windows have advertisements wrought into their very being. Every available inch and much that we should not consider available is used to instruct the passenger as to his needs, which range from insurance companies and banks all the way through cash registers and skates and lamp chimneys to bananas and margarine and Mellin’s Food.
The one thing which it is difficult to get in Christiania is liquor—not that I have personally tried to get any, but I have learned through my oft-quoted British author that he found it very difficult. He was considerably annoyed at finding himself unable to buy whisky anywhere in Christiania from 1 P.M. on Saturday until Monday morning. The liquor laws of Norway are very strict indeed, and cause annoyance to many tourists, who find themselves deprived of their “nip.” However, I hope they remember that these laws, which have been enacted in the last thirty or forty years, have, in a great degree, reduced drunkenness, poverty, crime, and disease. It would seem that a tourist who has a spark of unselfishness in him, however much he may long for his cocktail, would not grudge Norway the laws that have proved such a blessing to the whole country.
Besides forbidding the sale of liquor on Sundays and holidays, and on the eve of festivals, many districts, under government permission, have absolutely prohibited it. There is not a saloon in Norway, but in the larger towns a few of the hotels and restaurants are allowed to sell liquor under certain restrictions. All profits from its sale, with the exception of the company’s expenses and five per cent interest, must be devoted to public and philanthropic purposes. Consequently the trade does not offer great inducements to ambitious merchants.
My train has already passed Voss and is rapidly nearing old Hanseatic Bergen, and I have not even begun to tell you of the glories of this day’s ride. We left Christiania soon after daylight, and in a little less than three hours reached the town of Hönefos, which is one of the centers of the Norwegian wood-pulp industry. There is a great mill here which receives trees in its capacious maw and turns them out again in the form of pulp. Gigantic letters on the side of a barn announce that from here comes the pulp which eventually is made into Lloyd’s Weekly and the London Daily Chronicle.
A little farther on we catch a glimpse of some lofty pine forests which inevitably bring to mind Milton’s lines:
“His spear, to equal which the tallest pine
Grown on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great admiral, were but a wand,
He walked with.”
Soon after leaving Hönefos, we begin to climb and leave the tall, Norwegian pine and even the scrubby, Norwegian birch far below. This is the only regular railway in Europe which travels above the tree line. To get beyond the tree line in Switzerland, the railway would have to reach an altitude of at least seven thousand feet, but here of course the line is much lower. The resort of Finse has not a single wild tree to its name, though it is only four thousand feet above sea level. Finse is the most unique sporting center in the world, for its winter season lasts from August 1 to July 31, inclusive. Every year there is held a Midsummer Skiing Contest, which attracts people from all over Europe. Here one may ski at midnight by daylight on soft, feathery snow. Of course it is too far south to afford a midnight sun, but it is not too far south to afford midnight daylight.