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In this scene I at once recognised the wild landscape by the pencil of Dahl, the Norwegian painter, which had made such an impression upon me in Copenhagen. In Guldbrandsdal, we found at once what we had missed in the scenery of Ringerike swift, foaming streams.
After this the Friends availed themselves of the efficient assistance of Endré Dahl, and of the active peasants who form a large portion of the Society of Friends there, in a more extensive excursion which they made up one of the fiords which in so remarkable a manner intersect the country. John Yeardley gives a graphic description of this voyage.
It was nearly noon when Signe Dahl sprang from the cart, and with her bundle under her arm, ran down the hillside into the woods, following a well-beaten trail. That was the short cut home. Hans had found her poor company during the ride, and even now, alone in the woods, the serious countenance was loth to relax.
From that time he retired more into himself, always trying to do his utmost in the situation. It grew worse. Gale succeeded gale, with black mountains of water hurling themselves on the Borgmester Dahl. Some of the men never left their bunks; many became quarrelsome. The chief engineer, an old man, refused to speak at all to anybody. Others shut themselves up in their berths to cry.
Before leaving the region devoted to perching birds, the visitor should glance at a few of the pictures which are suspended above the cases in this compartment. They include, amongst various portraits of British Museum donors, three of Sir Hans Sloane, one by Murray; Robert Earl of Oxford, by Sir Godfrey Kneller; and Edward Earl of Oxford, by Dahl.
Outside, the snow covered everything the fields, the roads, the frozen lake and river. The houses were half hidden, and the pines on the hill bore up great banks of snow. From the window the view was beautiful in its solemn whiteness. From the white level of the distant frozen lake, broken patches of brown protruded. These were the islands on one of which Signe Dahl had lived.
When she did contrive to get sweetbreads at Dahl & Oleson's Meat Market the triumph was so vast that she buzzed with excitement and admired the strong wise butcher, Mr. Dahl. She appreciated the homely ease of village life.
Shelves lined with red crepe paper which was now faded and torn and concentrically spotted. Flat against the wall of the second story the signs of lodges the Knights of Pythias, the Maccabees, the Woodmen, the Masons. Dahl & Oleson's Meat Market a reek of blood. A jewelry shop with tinny-looking wrist-watches for women. In front of it, at the curb, a huge wooden clock which did not go.
He took me over the place, upstairs and down, and showed me what was to be done. I noticed the pictures and sculpture in the rooms; there was a big marble lion, and paintings by Askevold and the famous Dahl. Heirlooms, I supposed they would be. Fruen's room upstairs looked just as if she were at home, with all sorts of little trifles neatly in their places, and clothes hanging still on the pegs.
"I shall have to ask the presence of another physician," said he. "Will you send for one from your office, Coroner Dahl?" At which I stepped back and the Coroner stepped forward, saying, however, as he passed me: "The inquest will be held day after to-morrow in my office. Hold yourself in readiness to be present. I regard you as one of my chief witnesses."
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