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little did I then imagine what a carriole was! And over the rough pavement of Christiania, with the open drains across them, that cause even a spring carriage to jolt you half a yard up from your seat! What torture I endured, without being able to express it. Strange to say it was in my cheeks I felt the jolting most.
"That carriole is not very good," said HerrB., complacently, when I returned with a face of crimson, and a hand holding my forehead; "but I hope you like it."
"The thing has no springs," I muttered.
"No, we do not like springs to carrioles; they
swing then so,—and that is sickening," he answered, swinging himself to show the motion.
"I will desire the Candidat to take a gig for you," said the good Professor, looking at me with silent compassion.
"That will be better. And when shall I set off?"
"Dear! you arrange matters quickly in Norway," I remarked; but fearful of throwing an obstacle in the way, I did not petition for more time.
I had no idea travelling was so easily arranged in Norway; but now I must get ready for tomorrow.
The "to-morrow" came; I could scarcely sleep from excitement. However, having my travels before me, I tried to make a good breakfast. Every book of travels in the North I had read asserted that in these regions one might always calculate on good eggs. Bo eggs I always have ordered hitherto; in the Hotel de Scandinavie, however, I think they must be reserved for the use of us English only, for they have invariably been kept too long when presented to me. I was ready, notwithstanding, and had my bonnet in my hand when the Professor came into the room which is appropriated to my receptions.
"Is the gig ready, Herr Professor?"
"And the Candidat?"
"He cannot be got into it."
"Got in! How?"
"He is too big. He could not be got into the carriole, and he just fills the gig."
It was true: to crush the Candidat into a carriole would have been a refinement on thumbscrewing.
"No matter," said the good-natured Professor, "I have another plan for you, just what you call the very thing. There is a Lieutenant who wants to go to see his family somewhere on the road to Bergen; he is glad to have a free passage, and will attend you."
"Then I must go on the road to Bergen. Very well; it is the most beautiful road."
"I will go for him now, and return in half an hour."
"What easy resources they have here!" I said to myself.
In three or four hours the Professor returned,
"I should have come sooner," he said, "but the Lieutenant Las now promised to accompany a blind man, who has come to see our country; and a promise to a blind man, you know, must be kept."
"Before one to a lady?"
"Perhaps—yes—before one to a lady who has eyes. But no matter, I have another plan, much more suited to you. Yes, this you will say is the very thing. See, now, one of our fairy-legend writers is going to make a tour."
"A tour in Fairyland!" I interrupted, clasping my hands, and feeling myself wafted back to the far, far distant years of my blessed childhood; "and I shall share it?"
"Yes, he will drive; and if you wish to draw—"
"Draw! what? The carriole?"
"Ack! nay; he is going to collect fairylegends; and if you wish to—what do you call it in English?" said the Professor, marking lines on the palm of his hand.
"Yes, if you wish to sketch, you can do so, while he collects the fairy legends."
"And I will give him my sketches for his legends.''
"No, that cannot be; native art and literature only are encouraged here. The Government sends this Fairy-hunter, and has already paid him for his legends, and sends him on his tour free."
"Oh! dear. No Government would pay me for mine! We have no Government-train to Fairyland."
"But you must wait till to-morrow," said the Professor.
""Well, it is worth waiting for. Besides, I have promised our most agreeable Yice-Consul to go out in his boat on the Fiord this evening. We are to visit the ruins of an old church and convent on an island in the Fiord; a relic of times when churches were more plenty with you than they are now. In the whole of Christiania there is one church and one tower j and in that tower there are four windows to the four quarters of the compass; and at every quarter of an hour, through day and night, a man pops his head out of one window, and another, and another, and another, and sings out of each, 'Hear! O ye people;' and then tells them what quarter of an hour it is. Solitary confinement in the Hotel de Scandinavie, with that tower before one, and that voice resounding in one's ears, might have a fatal result."