Waterbury Evening Democrat

SCENES IN NORWAY
EVERY-DAY LIFE OF THE PEOPLE VERY PICTURESQUE.
It Is Not the Great Beetling Crags and Monster Waterfalls That Tempt the Tourists' Camera Oftenest.

Many a tourist in Norway with an eye for the picturesque will find that the scenes which tempt his kodak most frequently, and linger most pleasantly in his mind, are not the typical fjord scenes—great beetling crags, monster waterfalls and the like—but humble, human scenes of the every-day life of the people. Some little homestead, set in a frame of most brilliant green that slopes away to the water's edge, stamps itself indelibly on his mind as symbolical of all that is peaceful and calm. Or, as the fjord steamer brings a breath of the outside world to one or other of the many unpretentious little landing-places, he may catch a glimpse of strange fellow-passengers—here a patient cow, there a dozen frightened sheep, a goat or a calf, all making use of the water-way: for lack of other means of transportation. If the traveler is spending Sunday close to the shores of the fjord, he may witness the arrival for church of a large part of the congregation in boats. In the Hardanger district, where a picturesque costume is still worn by the women, it is no uncommon sight to see the Sabbath toilette being completed on the beach. The large linen headtire is an elaborate affair, spotlessly white, starched and stiffened, and apparently only capable of being satisfactorily adjusted by the nimble fingers of a friend. It is the badge of matrimony, and may not be worn by spinsters and little girls, who drape their heads in modest shawls, or go bareheaded with their hair hanging in neat plaits. The whole costume is extremely picturesque, and may well claim the photographer's attention, though the camera fails to do justice to the pleasing combination of black skirt, white chemise and bright scarlet bodice, bordered with quaint embroidery. In among the birch trees, with a background of precipitous gray mountains, the little groups of women on their way home from church form a very tempting subject. Perhaps it is when one leaves the fjords and the beaten tourist track and wanders up into the hills that one comes across scenes the most attractive and most typical of the country. Hay-making here has its peculiarities. The field is probably a narrow patch of soil on the mountain-side reclaimed from barrenness, as the heap of gathered stones can testify. An indispensable feature is the railing on which the grass is hung to dry. Sometimes a high wind will blow all the hay away, but on the whole the system seems sensible, in view of the usual damp state of the ground. Often a man may be seen laboriously mowing tiny patch of grass, half-way up a precipice, or one meets him descending into the valley with half the crop upon his back, the rest to be fetched down at his leisure. The same idea of hanging up prevails in the harvest field, where the shocks of barley six or seven feet high present a ludicrous resemblance to a somewhat dishevelled human being.

The life of the Norwegian is hard, yet it has many compensations. One is the variety of occupations. A man may be a blacksmith, fisherman and small proprietor at the same time; or he may be in the winter a tailor, and in the summer a tourist's guide. The women do their share of the work. One finds two or three of them or sometimes a whole family up in the lonely mountain valleys, spending the summer months at a "saeter," often a little stone one-roomed dwelling of the most primitive description. Here they are employed tending the cows and goats, and making cheeses or butter, and altogether leading a very healthy and happy existence. Their manner to strangers is always charming, and the tourist can be sure of a welcome if he elects to leave the beaten paths and ask for food and shelter at a mountain farm. The lodging may be simple and the food plain, but any discomforts are amply atoned for by the beautiful scenery and the keen, bracing air of the Norwegian Highlands.