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French. perfect?"

"Isn't the resemblance to an old-fashioned pulpit

"Here is, what seems to me, one of the strangest features of the whole region," said Mr. Larssen, shortly after they had passed the Seven Sisters. "Look far up on your right and

see that farmhouse."

"But how do the farmers ever get up there?" exclaimed Mrs. Cartmell. "It looks as if the ascent would be impossible." "It is sixteen hun

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and

dred feet above us,
the path, which is al-
most perpendicular, is
guarded by chains and
stanchions. Should
you like to live there?"
"Just imagine it!
What loneliness, and
how dreary the win-
ters must be! No; I
don't wish even to
visit such a spot," re-
plied Mrs. Cartmell.

A few miles farther on they entered the amphitheatre at

the head of the fiord,

Seven Sisters.

and came to Merok, a pretty little village, where they landed. "We will spend the night here, and in the morning take a drive over what Mr. Larssen tells me is the finest road in the country," said Mr. Cartmell.

The afternoon was spent in wandering about the village, admiring the magnificent view spread before them, and early the next day they started on their ride.

The road turned and twisted up the mountain in numberless loops, constantly bringing into sight the grandest combinations of hills, cascades, and valleys. Each scene seemed to surpass the preceding in beauty, and the mind was fairly wearied in trying to grasp the glories spread before it.

"What a day this has been!" said Mrs. Cartmell, after their return to the yacht at night. "I can well imagine that this is the grandest of all the fiords."

"Shall we go to the Sogne fiord?" inquired Miss Gray. "No," replied Mr. French; "we shall omit that, although it is the longest of the fiords, and grand in its scenery. Its depth is remarkable, measuring in some places four thousand feet, which indicates apparently that these fiords are submerged valleys, although the coast about Norway is now slowly rising."

"You have been there, I presume," said Miss Gray, addressing Mr. Larssen.

66

Yes; Gustav and I visited it three years ago, and also spent a few days there this summer. The scenery is wonderfully grand, but rather severe in its character, and Hardanger fiord is more generally pleasing. One of its branches, however, the Nærsfiord, is to my mind quite equal to the Geiranger. As its name indicates, it is very narrow, and the tremendous mountains seem to be almost hanging over one's head."

A day or two later the Verbena entered the harbor of Bergen, and the travellers looked with keen interest at the forest of masts that surrounded them; while from the water's edge rose the city itself, most picturesquely situated, and looking very quaint with its sharp red roofs.

The yacht was soon surrounded by rowboats, whose owners were anxious to secure passengers wishing to land.

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Gustav talked to one of the boatmen for a few moments, and then called eagerly, "Papa, Mr. Cartmell, we must all go ashore! This man says that it is fish-market day, and you know the town is at its best then."

"Be sure that you take your waterproofs and umbrellas," called Mr. Larssen, as they went to their staterooms to pre

[graphic][merged small]

pare for the landing. "The weather is threatening, and Bergen is proverbial for the number of its rainy days, five out of seven being unpleasant. The annual rainfall is about seventy inches."

All were quickly in readiness, and taking their places in the rowboats were soon carried to land. A short walk brought them to the Fish Market, a place where the fishingboats lay all along the shore. The men and women in charge were shouting to passers-by to call attention to the fine quality of what they had to sell, or sometimes holding aloft a live

Most

fish or lobster that all might see how desirable it was. of the smaller fish were in tubs of water, being taken out and killed as they were sold.

The streets presented a very lively appearance, and Mr. Larssen told them that they would have a better opportunity here to observe native costumes than anywhere else in the country.

"Are the national costumes worn as much as they were formerly?" queried Mrs. Cartmell.

"No; they are disappearing, especially in the larger cities. Those that you see here are worn by peasants from the outlying districts. Ready-made clothing is for sale in all the towns, and is very generally used; still we shall see many quaint costumes."

"There is one now!" cried Florence. "Look quick! Don't those women look pretty with the black jackets, red skirts and bodices, and white aprons? And see those men with red caps and knee breeches. What a quantity of silver buttons they have on their jackets and vests!"

"I

"What is done with all this fish?" questioned Fred. shouldn't think one city could possibly use such a quantity as there is here."

"A great deal of it is dried and sent to different European ports; the English markets obtain their chief supply here; and hundreds of thousands of barrels of pickled herring are sent away every year."

The boys, with Gustav as guide, decided to see a little of the country outside the city; while Mr. French, securing carriages, drove with the rest of the party to places of interest in the town. Miss Gray wished to see the industrial school for girls, of which she had heard, and accordingly their first visit was there.

The pupils, who were from six to eighteen years of age, all looked very happy, and were busily engaged in different

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