In the sister kingdom of Norway, which produces annually about 480 tons of copper, the mines of the Alten Fjord are remarkable for their high northern situation (in 70° N. Lat., beyond the Arctic Circle). A piece of copper ore found by a Lap woman in 1825 fell accidentally into the hands of Mr. Crowe, an English merchant in Hammerfest, who immediately took measures for obtaining a privilege from Government for the working of a mine. All preliminaries being arranged, he set off for London, where he founded a company with a capital of 75,000_l._ When Marmier visited the Alten Fjord in 1842, more than 1,100 workmen were employed in these most northerly mining works of the world; but probably the number has since decreased. Although Drontheim or Tronyem is renowned in Norse history as the seat of many kings, yet the town seems as if built but yesterday. Repeated conflagrations have often reduced its wooden houses to ashes. The choir of the ancient cathedral, the finest edifice ever built in so high a latitude, is the only remaining memorial of old Tronyem; but the modern city is remarkably clean and well built, and gives evidence, by its outward appearance, of the prosperity of its citizens, which is partly owing to the fish-trade and partly to the neighbouring copper-mines of Röraas. The tall chimneys of the smelting huts and other manufactories founded on the mineral riches of the country show that the spirit of trade is perfectly awake in the old capital of Saint Olaus, and that the abode of the ancient sea-kings is none the worse for having abandoned piracy for the more homely pursuits of modern commerce. The copper ores, which were first discovered in 1644, occur in the Röraas Mountains in extensive veins. The entrance, which resembles the mouth of a cave and leads into the mine by a gradual descent, is so broad that carts laden with ore and drawn by horses can freely pass in and out. When Professor Haussmann, of Göttingen, visited the mine, long stalactites of ice hung from the roof of the entrance and covered its rugged walls with crystal drapery. The lights of the numerous workmen who opened the march made the ice glitter with all the colours of the rainbow, and then, as they went onward, illuminated the broad galleries, propped by mighty pillars, and branching into gloomy recesses. At length they halted, and all at once, on a given signal, the brilliant illumination was changed into the deepest darkness. A deathlike stillness now reigned in the vault, when suddenly a flash of lightning blazed through the gloom, a loud clap of thunder instantly followed, and, with crash on crash, the explosions of many charges of blasting powder shook the walls of the neighbouring galleries. After the last shot was fired, the torches were relit, and joyously exchanging the usual salutation of German miners: ‘Glück auf!’[51] the company moved on. ‘I cannot find words,’ says the Professor, in whose honour the impressive scene had been arranged, ‘to