Here the scarp is dentelled like a saw; there the narrow ledges barely allow the snow to lodge or the noble crests of the Northern pines to spread themselves; farther on, some convulsion of Nature may have rounded a coquettish curve into a lovely valley flanked in rising terraces with black-plumed pines.

Truly we are tempted to call this land the Switzerland of Ocean.
Midway between Trondhjem and Christiansand lies an inlet called the Strom-fiord.

If the Strom-fiord is not the loveliest of these rocky landscapes, it has the merit of displaying the terrestrial grandeurs of Norway, and of enshrining the scenes of a history that is indeed celestial.
The general outline of the Strom-fiord seems at first sight to be that of a funnel washed out by the sea.

The passage which the waves have forced present to the eye an image of the eternal struggle between old Ocean and the granite rock,--two creations of equal power, one through inertia, the other by ceaseless motion.

Reefs of fantastic shape run out on either side, and bar the way of ships and forbid their entrance.