Such things lend themselves to create scenery which cannot fail to charm, and in one day in Norway you may see them all. Take, for instance, the famous view of the Naerodal from Stalheim, a place which every visitor to Western Norway knows well. Probably nowhere in the world is there anything to approach it in grandeur, for not only are there the great mountains forming the sides of the actual valley in the foreground, but away beyond appears a succession of other mountains, stretching far across the Sogne Fjord, even to the snowy peaks of Jotunheim. People who live in such a land must needs be proud of it, and the descendants of the Vikings believe that there exists in the world no fairer country than their beloved Norge. [1] Maybe they are not far wrong. But these Northern people are not numerous, and they are not forced, for want of space, to spoil their landscapes by studding the country-side with little red-brick cottages, for all Norway contains not one-half the number of inhabitants found in London. Under such circumstances the feeling of freedom is great, and the Norwegians claim that, as a nation, they are the freest of the free. Recent events would seem to justify the claim. Only the other day Norway dissolved the Union with Sweden with little difficulty, and of her own free-will cast herself loose from the light fetters with which, for nearly a century, she considered that she had been bound. With Norway time has dealt kindly. In modern ages war has not ravaged her lands. The oldest living Norseman was born too late to fight for his country, and it is to be hoped that his grandsons and great-grandsons may continue to live in ignorance of the horrors which war entails. Yet are they all prepared to take up arms in defence of hearth and home, for each able-bodied man serves his time as a soldier, and doubtless, if occasion should arise, would prove to the world that the old Viking spirit within him was still alive. It is, however, the sense of restfulness pervading everything that is Norway's charm, and even the ordinary bustle of life is unknown outside the towns. In the summer the beaten tracks of the country are practically in the hands of the foreign visitors, whose money helps not a little to support many a Norse family. In the winter things are different, as, except perhaps in Christiania, very few foreigners are to be met with, and the Norwegians live their own lives. The towns are neither numerous nor large, and, with a few exceptions, are situated on the sea-coast. Perhaps a quarter of the whole population of Norway is to be found in the towns, the remainder consisting of country-folk, who live on their farms. What we term villages barely exist, and the nearest approach to them is a group of farms with a church in the neighbourhood.