“Adieu! farvel!” said the sleepy lout, good-naturedly holding out his hand to give me a parting shake. “Farvel, min Herr! May your journey be pleasant! God take care of you!”
The perfect sincerity of the fellow completely dissipated my rage, and, giving him a friendly shake, I proceeded on my way. As I turned the corner of the main building and struck into the road, I cast a look back. He was still standing by the cart, yawning and rubbing his eyes as before. That man would make money in California—if money could be made by a bet on laziness. He is lazier than the old Dutch skipper who was too lazy to go below, and gave orders to the man at the helm to follow the sun so as to keep him in the shade of the main-sail, by reason of which he sailed round the horizon till his tobacco gave out, and he had to return home for a fresh supply. I call that a strong case of laziness, but scarcely stronger than the traveler meets with every day in Norway.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
OUT OF MONEY.
I now began to enjoy the real pleasures of Norwegian travel. No longer compelled to endure the vexatious delays to which I had lately been subject, I bowled along the road, with my knapsack on my back, at the rate of four miles an hour, whistling merrily from sheer exuberance of health and lack of thought. The weather was charming. A bright sun shed its warm rays over hill and dale; the air was fresh and invigorating; the richest tints adorned the whole face of the country, which from Soknaes to Trondhjem gradually increases in fertility and breadth of outline, till it becomes almost unrivaled in the profusion of its pastoral beauties. Nothing can surpass the gorgeous splendor of the autumnal sunsets in this part of Norway. At an earlier period of the year there is perpetual daylight for several weeks, and for three days the sun does not descend below the horizon. The light, however, is too strong during that period to produce the rich and glowing tints which cover the sky and mountain-tops at a later season of the year. I was fortunate in being just in time to enjoy the full measure of its beauties, and surely it is not too much to say that such an experience is of itself worth a trip to Norway. I shall not attempt a description of Norwegian skies, however, after the glowing picture of the North Cape at midnight drawn by the pen of my friend Bayard Taylor, the most faithful and enthusiastic of all the travelers who have given their experience of this interesting region.
TRAVELING ON FOOT.
Keeping along the banks of the Gula, the road winds around the sides of the hills, sometimes crossing open valleys, and occasionally penetrating the shady recesses of the pine forests, till it diverges from the river at Meelhus. Soon after leaving this station the views from the higher points over which the road passes are of great beauty and extent, embracing a glimpse, from time to time, of the great Trondhjem Fjord.