The Argosy . s everything tobe ahead ofothers. Wemade straightfor our car-rioles, and hadstarted and werewell on our waybefore some ofthe passengershad left thesteamer. We returnedby the Hitterdalroute for thepurpose of visit-ing the quaintold church,which is one otthe curiositiesof Norway, andwhich Carl hadnever we pas-sed throughendless pineforests, the sun-shine glintingand gleamingabout us, the trees sending out their perfume, wild-flowers abound-ing, and squirrels peering at us with curled tails and jet-black with the exception of the church of Hitterdal, the road byBo
The Argosy . s everything tobe ahead ofothers. Wemade straightfor our car-rioles, and hadstarted and werewell on our waybefore some ofthe passengershad left thesteamer. We returnedby the Hitterdalroute for thepurpose of visit-ing the quaintold church,which is one otthe curiositiesof Norway, andwhich Carl hadnever we pas-sed throughendless pineforests, the sun-shine glintingand gleamingabout us, the trees sending out their perfume, wild-flowers abound-ing, and squirrels peering at us with curled tails and jet-black with the exception of the church of Hitterdal, the road byBolkesjo is grander and more beautiful. Yet it is only degrees ofcomparison, where all is lovely. Everything comes to an end, and so did our drive. We had leftKongsberg m great darkness; we returned to it in hke we entered the picturesque courtyard, already hghts were gleaminghospitably from the windows of the inn, and above, the stars werebeginning to come out. We had had a singularly happy time, and. Hitterdal Church. A Night Excursion. 61 I scarcely know which of us had been the more enthusiastic andexcited throughout the journey. The landlord was ready to receiveus, made us welcome, and prepared us of his very best. The littlehorses went off to their stable as briskly as if they were ready to beginit all over again at two oclock in the morning. The skydsgut wasdismissed with all he had deserved, and hoped he would have thepleasure of conducting us again next year. But next year was last year, and Norway saw us not. Ourpleasures do not always repeat themselves, and so we must make themost of our opportunities. Why do our beaux jours pass so quickly,giving to life its inevitable sadness ? Why will not time stand stillfor us at certain periods of our lives, on certain occasions ? Why isthere always a night to our brightest day ? But on the occasion of which I write we did not moralise. Wemade the most of our happiness and so enjoyed it twice over. Wedid not think of co
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