Sitting, then, in a little boat on the ocean, amidst strangers, with
sorrow and care pressing hard on me - buffeting me about from clime
to clime - I felt
"Like the lone shrub at random cast,
That sighs and trembles at each blast!"
On some of the largest rocks there were actually groves, the retreat
of foxes and hares, which, I suppose, had tripped over the ice
during the winter, without thinking to regain the main land before
the thaw.
Several of the islands were inhabited by pilots; and the Norwegian
pilots are allowed to be the best in the world - perfectly acquainted
with their coast, and ever at hand to observe the first signal or
sail. They pay a small tax to the king and to the regulating
officer, and enjoy the fruit of their indefatigable industry.
One of the islands, called Virgin Land, is a flat, with some depth
of earth, extending for half a Norwegian mile, with three farms on
it, tolerably well cultivated.
On some of the bare rocks I saw straggling houses; they rose above
the denomination of huts inhabited by fishermen. My companions
assured me that they were very comfortable dwellings, and that they
have not only the necessaries, but even what might be reckoned the
superfluities of life. It was too late for me to go on shore, if
you will allow me to give that name to shivering rocks, to ascertain
the fact.
But rain coming on, and the night growing dark, the pilot declared
that it would be dangerous for us to attempt to go to the place of
our destination - East Rusoer - a Norwegian mile and a half further;
and we determined to stop for the night at a little haven, some half
dozen houses scattered under the curve of a rock. Though it became
darker and darker, our pilot avoided the blind rocks with great
dexterity.
It was about ten o'clock when we arrived, and the old hostess
quickly prepared me a comfortable bed - a little too soft or so, but
I was weary; and opening the window to admit the sweetest of breezes
to fan me to sleep, I sunk into the most luxurious rest: it was
more than refreshing. The hospitable sprites of the grots surely
hovered round my pillow; and, if I awoke, it was to listen to the
melodious whispering of the wind amongst them, or to feel the mild
breath of morn. Light slumbers produced dreams, where Paradise was
before me. My little cherub was again hiding her face in my bosom.
I heard her sweet cooing beat on my heart from the cliffs, and saw
her tiny footsteps on the sands.
