Are the decrees or foreknowledge yet comprehended by you in relation to man's responsibility and free will?" Come, let us breathe the air! The figures begin to move on the walls, and we may have the dispute renewed, each ready to begin where he left off, finding that no one since their day has thrown any additional light upon it.

What a charming thing it is to voyage by a trekschuit along the canals! What perfect repose; what placid enjoyment; what rest in motion; what an epitome of Holland; and what a contrast to England or America! The sunny canal, the quietly trotting horse, the regular and orderly succession of Dutch gardens, Dutch villas, and Dutch comfort, the sense of having nothing whatever to do, or railroads could not be so despised,—a glory from the past, when men were not rushing like mad bulls over the earth, as Carlyle would say, "from the inane to the inane again," but could quietly browse and chew their cud,-all this made the sail to Delft singularly pleasing. Delft itself has now no manufacture of "Delftware," as far as I know; but crockery is not, at best, interesting to me. Then came Rotterdam at night, the steamer in the morning, the ocean at mid-day and next night; London again, with Blackwall and the weary custom-house; then farewells to my travelling companions, the best ever man had; then home.

NORMAN MACLEOD.

D°

IX.

FROM NORWAY.

O you wish your lungs to expand, your eyes to dilate, your muscles to spring, and your spirits to leap? then come to Norway! I repeat it-be you man or woman, grave or gay; if you ever indulge in lofty aspirations, in bold contemplations, in desperate imaginings come to Norway, and you will receive much satisfaction, I assure you.

Are you a man? You will find subject and occasion for your manhood. Are you a woman? You will find yourself at the fountain-head of the sublime and beautiful! Are you scientific? The rocks are bold and bare --the flora rich and varied. Birds and beasts of many kinds there are; glaciers, too, miles and miles of them, filling up the valleys, and covering the mountain tops— awaiting the inspection of your critical eye. Are you a painter? There is ample field for the wildest pencil and the boldest brush.

Are you a fisher? Here is your terrestrial paradise.

But you must be a fisher of the rough school,—not “a follower of the gentle art." Can you wade all day in snow-water? Can you swim down a roaring rapid— perchance shoot over a cataract, and count it but a trifle -with a twenty-foot rod in your hands, and a thirtypound salmon at the end of your line, making for the sea at the rate of twenty miles an hour? Then, by all means, come to Norway. But you must be possessed of a singularly patient and self-denying character. Mark that well. I have heard of two gentlemen who came to Norway for six weeks expressly to catch salmon. They came, they fished, they went back-one having caught two fish, the other none. The trip cost them £150. They came in the wrong season, that was all. It is not easy to ascertain the right season, for the time that is suitable for one river is not suitable for another. What a false impression of fishing in Norway must have been given by those luckless gentlemen to their friends! I could give a very different account of it, but fishing is not my theme at present.

Are you a daring mountaineer? The mountains of Gamle Norge (Old Norway), though not so high as those of the Himalaya range, are high enough for most men. The eagle will guide you to heights-if you can follow him-on which human foot has never rested.

Do you love the sunshine? Think of the great luminary that rules the day, rolling through the bright blue sky all the twenty-four hours round. There is no night here in summer, but a long, bright, beautiful day, as if Nature were rejoicing in the banishment of night from earth for ever.

But, above all, do you love simplicity, urbanity, unsophisticated kindness in man? Are you a student of human nature, and fond of dwelling on its brighter aspects? Then once more I say, come to Norway, for you will find her sons and daughters overflowing with the milk of human kindness.

I was fortunate enough to come to Norway in a friend's yacht, and voyaged along the west coast from south to north. This trip is one of the most agreeable that can be made. Steamers ply regularly during the summer months. For information of all kinds in minute detail, I refer the reader to Murray's excellent "Hand-Book to Denmark, Norway, and Sweden."

There is an advantage in voyaging along the west coast, which those who abhor the sea would do well to consider. The islands are so numerous that the swell of the ocean is completely broken, consequently there is no unpleasant motion-no sea-sickness! Ponder that well, and do not shudder prematurely at the bare mention of yachts and steamers.

It is impossible to give any one an adequate idea of what is meant by sailing among the islands off the coast of Norway, or of the delights attendant on such navigation. If you would understand this thoroughly, you must experience it for yourself. Here is a brief summary of pleasures. Yachting without sea-sickness. Scenery ever changing, always beautiful and wild beyond description. Landing possible, desirable, frequent. Expectation ever on tiptoe. Hope constant. Agreeable surprises perpetual. Tremendous astonishments numerous, and variety without end. Could any one desire

more? The islands extend along the whole coast in myriads. I presume that their actual number never has been, and never can be, ascertained. Some are so huge that you mistake them for the mainland. Others are so small that you might take them for castles floating on the sea. And on many of them-most of them, perhaps. -you find small houses-quaint, gable-ended, wooden, and red-tile-roofed-in the midst of small patches of verdure, or, not unfrequently, perched upon the naked rock. In some cases a small cottage may be seen unrelieved by any blade of green, sticking in a crevice of the rock like some miniature Noah's Ark, that had taken the ground there and been forgotten when the flood went down.

There is not within the bounds of the known world a more splendid cruising ground than this great archipelago, which may, I think, be appropriately termed the islandworld of Norway. Most travellers are inclined to class it with the wonders of the world; and he who does not, when passing through its wondrous intricacies, find him'self transported into a new world of thought and feeling, must himself be deemed a world's wonder. Of course a good deal depends on the weather being propitious. Let this remark be particularly noted, for of all subjects of discussion, there is not one more fertile of difference of opinion and flat contradiction on the part of travellers than that of scenery; and, having pondered this subject, I have come to the conclusion that, apart from variety of taste, which induces one to admire extravagantly what another views with comparative indifference, or with absolute dislike this difference of opinion is altogether due to weather.