for the entertainment of man and beast. They are obliged to keep a certain number of carts and horses for the use of travellers at a specified rate per kilometre, fixed by the Government, such rates being subject to slight increase where particularly mountainous roads are concerned. There are three classes of vehicles in general use. The carriole, which is the typical Norwegian conveyance, is exceedingly comfortable and well adapted to its purpose; it is built for one person, and runs easily on good springs, and may be likened to an armchair on wheels, but so arranged that one can either sit in it with knees bent, as in an ordinary vehicle, or stretched out at full length in a kind of trough. This obviates the stiffness engendered by endless hours of driving in one position.

THE ROAD TO HELL, NEAR TRONDHJEM
This is one of the rare railway stations of Norway

The stolkjærre, on the other hand, is a terrible invention, as much like one of our plumber's handcarts with a rough wooden seat in it as anything I can think of. It holds two people and a certain amount of luggage. On the main roads one finds the carts fitted with something in the way of springs; but upon roads such as it was our fortune to be driven on, often badly in need of repairs, they were usually much behind the times, and it was a wonderful and awful sensation to drive for untold hours under such conditions.

The carriole and the stolkjærre have a small seat at the back for the boy who is sent by the proprietor, to be changed, along with the horse and cart, at each station; but in the case of the third method of locomotion—that is to say, with much style and excessive slowness—one takes over the responsibility of the whole affair—namely, coachman, horses, and carriage, which in this case is called kaleschevogn,—only to be laid aside when one arrives at one's final destination, and using the stations only for the purpose of resting and eating. To return to the carriole and the stolkjærre. It must be noted that one is expected to drive oneself, though, if anything goes wrong with the horse and cart, the driver is responsible. The mountain ponies are very surefooted and need no guidance; but it was our fate to be made acquainted with cattle that shied, with others that tripped, and with one pony (I recall the occurrence with horror) that stumbled on a narrow road, cut out of the almost perpendicular side of a mountain, three thousand feet above a roaring torrent. One wheel of our vehicle was actually in mid-air; but, fortunately, the horse fell on the shaft that was on the mountain side of the pass. Had this not been so, one of the stones that mark the site of such accidents on the Norwegian roads would have been erected to our memory.

WHITE CAP WORN IN THE BERGEN DISTRICT

It was at Hell that we had our first experience of the stolkjærre. This was after waiting some three hours, which Nico improved by making a sketch, while I looked for visionary wild strawberries in the soaking grass. Then appeared a cosy little carriole, upholstered in red velvet, and carefully covered with tarpaulins. This was immediately taken over by a prosperous station official, who drove off in comparative comfort. In a few minutes appeared the plumber's handcart which I have already attempted to describe, and in it a very diminutive boy, who manfully tackled the luggage, which he endeavoured to make fast with a heap of very thin string, supplemented by straps from Nico's sketching equipment. Now we were really off, and I had time to study our pony. He had a long and heavy tail, which he would toss over the reins; the pressure he thus brought to bear he promptly obeyed, and we pursued a somewhat erratic course, varied by descents upon the part of the diminutive boy to replace the pony's tail. At length we reached a lonely farmhouse, at which, he implied, we were to alight; and we paid him his little bill, with the addition of a small pourboire. He shook hands very gravely with Nico, and, looking again at his money, inwardly decided that we deserved a little more attention, and shook hands with me too. We did not know anything about posting, and, somewhat overwhelmed with this ceremonious leave-taking, stood for some time in doubt as to what to do next. Soon an old woman appeared at the door of the house, and beckoned us in. I explained as well as I could, with the help of a phrase-book, that we wanted a horse and stolkjærre as quickly as possible. This seemed to amuse the old lady immensely. She laughed until the tears came into her eyes, and, taking the book from my hands, examined it intently upside down. As it was getting late and we had still a long way to go, Nico tried what could be done by a pantomimic display. Sitting astride a chair, he tied his handkerchief to represent the reins, and supplemented the performance with encouraging noises addressed to an imaginary steed. This tickled the people of the house; but I realised that we were no nearer our object, and decided to forage for myself. I boldly ascended the steep incline of logs upheld by beams that led from the yard to a very dark stable. I found no horse; but there was a stolkjærre without the ghost of a spring. I appealed again to the old lady, who had followed me, for a horse. She merely patted me, and, I think, urged me to be calm. Just at this moment another boy appeared upon the scene, and inquired whether it was really a horse that we wanted. Knowing the Norwegian for horse, I nodded vigorously. He smiled indulgently, but took no other step. After another half hour's alternate shouting and periods of calm, the boy roused himself to action and went off, while the old lady, who, I believe, was really kind and interested in us, took me into the kitchen and made up the fire, as she discovered that my hands were cold. I suppose she knew what we wanted all the time, and that we ought to have taken things more easily; but at that time I knew nothing of the unwritten laws with regard to posting in Norway.

TRONDHJEM

We had a terribly long drive, through magnificent scenery, going uphill for miles; and very desolate and wild it seemed in the half light of that damp and dreary evening. Not a human being did we meet, and scarcely a dwelling was to be seen along the route. It was midnight when we reached our destination, one of the typical boarding-houses scattered all over Norway, in which inhabitants of the towns not possessing villas of their own pass a few weeks in the summer. They are called "sanatoriums," generally provide fishing, and are always amid glorious scenery. The ones that I visited were splendidly managed, and exceedingly reasonable in their charges. Marienborg, the name of the small sanatorium in which we stayed at Sælbo, is exquisitely situated above a very charming lake, and new beauties discovered themselves in whatever direction one wandered. The air is perfect, and the weather almost dependable, in the few short weeks of summer. It was now the middle of August. The hostess was carefully tending her strawberry-beds, and pointed out to us a fine specimen that was still green. The meals at this establishment