“O, I learned Norwegian when I was an infant. I could speak it first rate before I learned to utter my mother tongue.”
“Go ’way!” protested Laybold. “Do you know what island that is on the starboard hand.”
“To be sure I do. Do you think my education has been neglected to that extent? That’s Steppenfetchenboggen. A very fine island it is, too,” continued Scott, rattling off the long names so that they had a decidedly foreign ring.
“I don’t see how you can pronounce those words,” added Laybold. “They would choke me to death.”
“I don’t believe they would,” laughed Scott.
The squadron passed through several narrow passages, and then came to a broad expanse of water at the mouth of the Drammen River. The students were perched on the rail and in the rigging of the various vessels, observing with great interest the development of the panorama, which seemed to be unrolled before them.
“It is rather fine scenery,” said Lincoln, who still carried the book in his hand, and occasionally glanced at the pictures; “but I think the artist here must have multiplied the height of the cliffs by two, and divided the height of houses, men, and masts by the same number.”
“It certainly looks like an exaggeration,” replied Ryder.
“Look at this,” added Lincoln, pointing to a scene on the coast of Norway. “There’s a large steamer carrying a top-gallant yard on the foremast. That mast is probably a hundred and fifty feet high, and there are hills and bluffs beyond it—which would lose by the perspective—five times as high.”
“Still it is very fine scenery.”