Arriving At The Ferry (The Passage Over To Moss Is About Six Or
Eight English Miles) I Saw The Most Level Shore I Had Yet Seen In
Norway.
The appearance of the circumjacent country had been
preparing me for the change of scene which was to greet me when I
reached the coast.
For the grand features of nature had been
dwindling into prettiness as I advanced; yet the rocks, on a smaller
scale, were finely wooded to the water's edge. Little art appeared,
yet sublimity everywhere gave place to elegance. The road had often
assumed the appearance of a gravelled one, made in pleasure-grounds;
whilst the trees excited only an idea of embellishment. Meadows,
like lawns, in an endless variety, displayed the careless graces of
nature; and the ripening corn gave a richness to the landscape
analogous with the other objects.
Never was a southern sky more beautiful, nor more soft its gales.
Indeed, I am led to conclude that the sweetest summer in the world
is the northern one, the vegetation being quick and luxuriant the
moment the earth is loosened from its icy fetters and the bound
streams regain their wonted activity. The balance of happiness with
respect to climate may be more equal than I at first imagined; for
the inhabitants describe with warmth the pleasures of a winter at
the thoughts of which I shudder. Not only their parties of pleasure
but of business are reserved for this season, when they travel with
astonishing rapidity the most direct way, skimming over hedge and
ditch.
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