THE LAND OF THE VIKINGS.
At the extremity of one of the branches of the Hardangerfjord is the little town of Odde. This was the only place in Norway where we had any difficulty in securing rooms. As the boat neared the wharf, I heard a dozen ladies whisper to their husbands: "Now, dear, you stay and look after the luggage, and I'll run on and get the rooms." Accordingly, I used the same words to my friend, with the exception of the endearing epithet. I was afraid that might make him homesick. Then I took my position near the gang-plank.
A STREET IN BERGEN.
When we arrived, I was the first to step ashore, and I started at a brisk walk toward the hotel. Behind me I could hear the rustling of many skirts, but, hardening my heart like Pharaoh, I kept on. At last, forgetting drapery and dignity, the ladies passed me on the run. This time I gallantly gave way, and when, a moment later, I reached the hotel office, I could have fancied myself on the floor of the Stock Exchange, since every lady there was fighting nobly for her children and her absent lord.
"I want two beds," cried one.
"I wish for five beds," screamed another.
"Give me a room with blinds," exclaimed a third.