The whole of the Christiania fjord is both grand and immense. A decided flutter takes place on board when the town is in sight, and preparations are made for disembarkation. Hans Luther had by this time made a personal acquaintance with our luggage, and went to the Custom House, whither we were soon sent for. Among our possessions were discovered certain condiments and preserved provisions unknown to the officials, one item especially—pea soup in powder. On our arrival we suggested that the unusual product should be tasted. To this the official at first demurred, but ultimately yielded. Unfortunately, at the very moment of putting the powder to his lips, he drew a long breath, which sent the dry powdered pea soup down the wrong way. However, after a time he recovered, when doubtlessly he registered a mental vow never, never again to taste any foreign importation.

We were soon at the Victoria Hotel, with its quaint courtyard, with galleries running round it, excessively tame pigeons hopping and perching on all sides, and a reindeer head nailed to the woodwork. During the tourist season a large marquee is erected in the centre of this courtyard for tables d’hôte and extra meals. In the meantime we hurried to our rooms, longing to be out in a boat for a general view of the city. A few extras were, however, requisite before starting in real earnest, amongst which were two rifle slings. These had to be made, and are referred to here because they were the means of initiating us into one of the customs of the place. The leather slings were well made, but the price was most tolky (exorbitant). This led to a mild remonstrance, upon which the saddler wrote us a remarkable letter, which it is a pity we cannot present verbatim. It was to the effect that the saddler was happy to serve us well, but thinking we were English gentlemen, he imagined we should prefer giving English prices. However, if we merely wished to pay in accordance with the Norwegian tariff, it would only be so much, which was precisely the amount we did pay.

Christiania has a population of about seventy thousand, and owes its modern appearance to the destruction of the old town by fire. Nowadays the suburbs extend widely all round it, while to the westward villas reach almost to Oscar’s Hall, an object of interest distinctly visible both from the town and the fortress, being only about four miles distant by land, and half that amount by water. The villa, with its high tower, is the property of the King, and is rich in the native talent of Tidemand, who was the national genre painter of his day. There are magnificent views of the fjord, bay, and surrounding mountains from all points, whether high or low, from the fortress or from the Egeberg, from the tower of the church in the market-place, or, farther off, from the Frogner Sæter and the Skougemsaas. For the latter, however, a long day should be taken.

Christiania.

To visit Oscar’s Hall the most pleasant way is to take a boat and row across. This was suggested by Hans, and we were glad to find that he took kindly to boat work, as he came from Gudbransdalen, which is inland. More pleased, however, were we to discover, when about half-way across, that Hans was gradually bursting out into song, singing in a clear voice one of Kjerulf’s sweetest compositions, which we give in part at the end of the chapter. There is a plaintive sweetness throughout it, and the beauty of the evening, coupled with the surprise, caused us to anticipate many future repetitions, as nothing, when travelling, is more humanising and soothing than vocal or instrumental music.

A Timber Shoot.

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The University, the Storthing, museums, and Mr. Bennett have already been frequently described: still just one word. Every Englishman is received by Mr. Bennett, who carries out his slightest wish. We only called to see him, and get some smaapenge; for if we had not, no one would have believed that we had been to Norway. Before the country was well opened Mr. Bennett must have been of the greatest service to visitors.