For my part, I had no greater desire for their company than they had for mine, and when I reached Bergen, I speedily transhipped myself to a native cargo-boat that was announced as being about to start for the first visit of the season to the North Cape. The accommodation on board the vessel, though somewhat homely, was comfortable. I had a good cabin, and soon made friends with the officers. No other Englishman was on board. We steamed slowly up the coast as far as Trondhjem, and I had ample opportunities of admiring the fine scenery, as our vessel touched at almost every small port upon the way. After resting a day at Trondhjem, we resumed our journey for the North Cape. The passengers were chiefly Norwegians, most of whom were bound for the Lofoten Islands, where the great annual fair was about to be held. In the saloon my companions from Trondhjem were two young Frenchmen, bent, like myself, upon visiting the North Cape, and an Austrian, attached to the Court at Vienna, who, for some inscrutable reason, was fired with the same ambition. We made a very cheery company, and I was able to cast off all editorial cares in the society of these people, to whom English politics were of no account. The weather, after leaving Trondhjem, was for some days positively frightful. It was the month of June, but it rained incessantly, except when it snowed. It was bitterly cold, and heavy mists prevented our seeing anything. The Austrian and I bore the discomforts of the situation as philosophically as we could. We smoked always, and we read and played bezique alternately, but our mercurial French friends were less happy, and on the third day of this detestable weather, on entering the little smoking-room on deck, I discovered them both sitting in tears, and bewailing the fact that they were not at home with their mothers. I laughed so much at their distress that a coolness sprang up between us which lasted for several days. Once, indeed, as I find noted in my memorandum-book, the young Frenchmen revived. It was at one of the stations at which we called. We saw a large group of people, including several young women, gathered in front of a building that looked half-church, half-schoolhouse. The Parisians insisted that they had assembled in our honour; for, as a matter of fact, they looked upon themselves as being engaged in a desperate and most heroic enterprise. Accordingly, as we approached the wharf, they brought out their pocket handkerchiefs, and, waving them wildly, uttered loud shouts of greeting. To their great chagrin, not the slightest notice was taken of them. They redoubled their efforts to attract attention, but neither man nor woman moved a head. Then one of the officers came along, and drily informed the Frenchmen that the object of their demonstrations was a funeral party!