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NORWAY, AND DENMARK. 99
Rusoer a Norwegian mile and a half further; and
we determined to stop for the night at a little haven,
some half dozen houses scattered under the curve of
a rock. Though it became darker and darker, our
pilot avoided the blind rocks with great dexterity.
It was about ten o’clock when we arrived, and the
old hostess quickly prepared me a comfortable bed a
little too soft or so, but I was weary ;
and opening the
window to admit the sweetest of breezes to fan me to
sleep, I sunk into the most luxurious rest : it was more
than refreshing. The hospitable sprites of the grots
surely hovered round my pillow ; and, if I awoke, it
was to listen to the melodious whispering of the wind
amongst them, or to feel the mild breath of morn.
Light slumbers produced dreams, where Paradise was
before me. My little cherub was again hiding her
face in my bosom. I heard her sweet cooing beat on
my heart from the cliffs, and saw her tiny footsteps on
the sands. New-born hopes seemed, like the rainbow,
to appear in the clouds of sorrow, faint, yet sufficient
to amuse away despair.
Some refreshing but heavy showers have detained
us; and here I am writing quite alone something
more than gay, for which I want a name.
I could almost fancy myself in Nootka Sound, or on
some of the islands on the north-west coast of America.
We entered by a narrow pass through the rocks, which
from this abode appear more romantic than you can
well imagine ;
and seal-skins hanging at the door to
dry add to the illusion.
It is indeed a corner of the world, but you would
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