Senator Labiche told us that the day before, when he was introduced to Björnson, the poet asked him point blank, _Êtes-vous Dreyfusard?_—for Björnson himself is. The day and evening ended with an entertainment given by the city. A hundred and fifty carriages were in readiness and took the guests to the Frognersättern, a favorite place of resort, the road to which winds up continuously for five miles through thick forest trees, past all the red cottages of the peasantry, which give the characteristic physiognomy to “the land of the thousand homesteads,” as the poet of the national hymn (Björnson) calls his native land. In the midst of the forest, on high land, you pass glittering lakes, and, wherever there is a wide prospect, fiord and city gleam in ever-varying beauty. On the second and last day of the Conference the transactions occupied the whole time from nine o’clock until five. The principal subject on the programme was the Conference at The Hague. Stanhope reads a message brought from there by W. T. Stead and bearing the signatures of Beernaert, Rahusen, D’Estournelles, Descamps, and others. This message communicates to their colleagues assembled at Christiania the outcome of the arbitration question,—a result which, as soon as its importance is grasped, will be recognized as the crowning event of the nineteenth century. The conclusion of the message read: “So this is the machine which the Hague Conference has created, and it is for you, representatives of the nations, and for the nations to provide it with steam.” A duty which—I repeat it with regret—neither the nations nor their representatives up to the present time have fulfilled. It was voted that Paris should be the place for the next Conference, and the date, 1900. The last evening was devoted to the parting banquet, given by the Storthing. Björnson arose as the first speaker. He spoke French. His somewhat singsong tone was not well suited to the French accent, but the emphasis and the enthusiasm of the address atoned for that. His theme was “The Truth.” Björnson wants to see truth injected into politics—politics should become ethical. Of course every self-respecting “practical politician” will smile indulgently at that idea. After leaving the table, the guests, four hundred in number, scattered through the many adjoining rooms. Here appeared a troop of young people in neat black clothes and white caps—I took them for students, but they were artisans—and sang Norwegian and German part songs. Björnson addressed them and they themselves expressed words of thanks to all the men and women present who were working for peace, that most important of all advantages for the laboring man.