NORWAY, AND DENMARK. 101

with these simple worthy folk to give you one of my half-score Danish
words and letting as much of my heart flow out in sympathy as they can
take. Adieu !  I must trip up the rocks. The rain is over. Let me
catch pleasure on the wing I may be melancholy tomorrow. Now all my
nerves keep time with the melody of nature. Ah ! let me be happy
whilst I can.  The tear starts as I think of it. I must flee from
thought, and find refuge from sorrow in a strong imagination the only
solace for a feeling heart.  Phantoms of bliss ! ideal forms of
excellence !

again enclose me in your magic circle, and wipe clear from my
remembrance the disappointments that render the sympathy painful,
which experience rather increases than damps, by giving the indulgence
of feeling the sanction of reason.  Once more farewell !

I LEFT Portoer, the little haven I mentioned, soon
after I finished my last letter. The sea was rough,
and I perceived that our pilot was right not to venture
farther during a hazy night. We had agreed to pay
four dollars for a boat from Helgeraac. I mention
the sum, because they would demand twice as much
from a stranger. I was obliged to pay fifteen for the
one I hired at Stromstad.