CHAPTER XV.
Papa’s birthday—A Fellow’s sigh—To Kongsberg—A word for waterproofs—Dram Elv—A relic of the shooting season—How precipitous roads are formed in Norway—The author does something eccentric—The river Lauven—Pathetic cruelty—The silver mine at Kongsberg—A short life and not a merry one—The silver mine on fire—A leaf out of Hannibal’s book—A vein of pure silver—Commercial history of the Kongsberg silver mines—Kongsberg—The silver refining works—Silver showers—That horrid English.
On the morning of my departure, I find the Norsk flag hoisted on a tall flagstaff, on the eminence in front of the house.
“What is the meaning of this, Miss Lisa?”
“Oh! that’s for papa’s birthday,” said she, in high glee.
“I wish you many happy returns of the day,” was my greeting to the pastor, who was evidently not a little pleased at receiving the compliment in English.
Each of the ladies had something pretty to say to him on the occasion, and the Fruë produced a very handsome new meerschaum pipe mounted with silver, which, by some magic process, she had obtained from the distant By against this auspicious morning.
As we are off the high road, there is no change-house near; but, by my host’s assistance, I have procured the services of an excellent fellow, who agrees to take me with his own horse in my friend’s carriole all the way to Kongsberg, twenty miles off, where I am to visit the silver mines, and return by the same conveyance to Hougesund, on my way to Drammen. How very kind these people are.