As there was in Christiania much to be seen that needed explanation, the students were required to keep together, and several guides from the hotel were obtained, to conduct the party to the various objects of interest in the city.  A walk through some of the principal streets brought them to the new Parliament house, which is called the Storthingsbyggningen.  It is a fine building, but with nothing remarkable about it.  In the lower house, the students seated themselves in the chairs of the members, and Mr. Mapps took the speaker’s desk.

“Christiania was founded in 1624, on the site of the ancient city of Osloe, which was destroyed by fire.  It is the residence of the king during his sojourn in Norway, and the new palace, which you saw on the hill, was completed for his use in 1848.  The city, as you have seen, is regularly laid out, and the buildings are either of brick or stone.  Formerly the dwellings were of wood, but the frequent fires caused the adoption of a law that no more wooden buildings should be erected within the precincts of the city.  The place has considerable commerce, and now contains nearly sixty thousand inhabitants.

“A street here is called a gade, and you observe that the street and its name form one word, as Carl-Johansgade, or Charles John Street; Kongensgade, or King Street; Kirkegaden, or Church Street.  The same word is used in German.

“The money of Norway is different from that of Sweden or Denmark.  The specie dollar, which is generally called a ‘specie,’ is the unit, and contains five marks of twenty-four skillings each.  A specie, or specie-daler, as it is written, is worth about one dollar and eight cents of our money.  It is near enough for our purpose to say that a mark is twenty-two cents, and a skilling one cent.  The coins in circulation are the mark, the two, the four, and the twelve skilling piece.  Species and half species are coined, but paper money is generally used for large sums, each denomination being printed on a particular colored paper.

“It is probable that the French system of weights and measures will soon be introduced in Sweden and Norway; but now a Norwegian pund is one and one tenth pounds avoirdupois; a fod is twelve and two hundredths inches; and a kande is three and three tenths pints.”

Mr. Mapps descended from the rostrum, and after the party had looked at the chamber of the upper house, and other apartments, they walked to the king’s palace ­the first royal dwelling which most of the students ever saw.  They passed through the throne room, the court saloon, the dining room, and other rooms, and some of them concluded that royalty was not half so splendid as they had supposed.  But Norway is a poor country compared with many others in Europe, and it is a pity that she ever thought it necessary to spend a million and a half of dollars in a weak attempt to imitate the grandeur of other realms.  There was nothing in the palace to astonish even our young republicans, though the rooms of the queen, on the first floor, were pretty and prettily furnished.  The building, which is a great, overgrown structure, without symmetry or elegance, is in a beautiful situation, and surrounded by pleasant grounds, well laid out, from which a fine view of the city and fjord is obtained.

Connected with the university are several museums and cabinets, which are open to the public, and well worth a visit, though they do not compare with those of the great cities of Europe.  The party walked through all these rooms, one of which contained a small collection of northern antiquities.  From the university the students went to a kind of garden, which is a weak imitation of “Tivoli,” in Copenhagen, containing promenades, concert room, a small opera house, and a drinking saloon.  The castle of Agershuus, on a hill at the southern side of the city, was next visited.  Its guns command the harbor, and it is regarded as a place of great strength, for it has successfully resisted several sieges.  Climbing a long flight of steps, the party reached the ramparts, which are laid out in walks, and are much resorted to by the citizens, as they command a lovely view of the fjord and the surrounding country.  A portion of the castle is used as a prison, and the convicts work in gangs about the premises.

“This was Robin Hood’s prison ­wasn’t it, Mr. Mapps?” asked Lincoln, who had an inquiring mind, after he had enjoyed the prospect from the ramparts for a while.

“I think not,” replied the instructor.  “Hoeyland, sometimes called the Robin Hood, but, I think, more properly the Baron Trenck, of Norway, was sentenced to imprisonment for life in this castle.”

“What for?” inquired Norwood.

“For robbery and other crimes.  Like Robin Hood and Mike Martin, he robbed the rich and gave to the poor, which none of you should believe makes the crime any less wicked; especially as he did not scruple to use violence in accomplishing his purpose.  For some small theft he was shut up in this prison; but while the overseer was at church, Hoeyland broke into his room, stole some of his clothes, and quietly walked out of the castle and out of the town.  He was recaptured, but repeatedly made his escape.  Though he was heavily ironed, this precaution was found to be useless, and he was placed in solitary confinement in the lowest room of the citadel, where he was kept securely for several years.  One evening his jailer told him that he could never get out of this room, and that he might as well promise not to attempt such an impossible feat; but Hoeyland replied that it was the turnkey’s duty to keep him in prison if he could, and his to get out if it were possible.  The next day the prisoner was missing, and the means of his escape were not at first apparent; but on further examination it was found that he had cut through the thick plank flooring of his cell, under the bed, and tunnelled under the wall into the yard of the prison.  He had replaced the planks when he left, and passing over the ramparts without difficulty, dropped into the ditch, and departed without bidding any one good by.  All attempts to find him were unsuccessful, and it was believed that he had left the country.

“A year afterwards the National Bank of Norway was robbed of sixty thousand specie-dalers, in the most adroit and skilful manner, even without leaving any marks of violence on the iron box in which the money was kept.  Not long after this occurrence, in the person of a prisoner who had been committed to the castle for a petty theft, the officers recognized Hoeyland.  He was considerate enough to inform the authorities that his late escape had been effected, after three years of patient labor, with no other tool than a nail, while others slept.  As a portion of his ill-gotten wealth was concealed in the mountains, he had the means of making friends in Christiania, where he had hidden himself.  Making the acquaintance of the bank watchman, he cunningly obtained wax impressions of the key-holes of the locks on the money-chest, by which he made keys, opened the box, took the money, and locked it after him.  But, like all other evil-doers, he came to grief at last.  Though he was a skilful carver in wood and stone, he was not allowed to have tools, of which he made a bad use, and he was compelled to amuse himself by knitting socks on wooden pins.  Unable to escape again, and not having the patience to exist without something to do, in utter despair he committed suicide in his prison.”

After the visit to the fortress, the boys were allowed to walk about the city at their own pleasure; and a few of the officers went with Mr. Lowington and the doctor to the establishment of Mr. Bennett, an Englishman, who fitted out travellers intending to journey in the interior with carioles and all the other requisites.  His rooms were stored with books and Norwegian curiosities and antiquities.  In the court-yard of the house was a large number of second-hand carioles, which are the sole vehicles used for crossing the country.  A traveller, wishing to go to Trondhjem or Bergen, would purchase the cariole in Christiania, and when he had done with it, dispose of it at the other end of his route, horses between being supplied according to law at the post stations on the road.  Travellers coming from Trondhjem or Bergen sell their vehicles to Mr. Bennett.  In his rooms are miniature models of the cariole for sale, which visitors purchase as a memento of their tour; as those who climb Pilatus and Rhigi, in Switzerland, buy an alpenstock on which are printed the names of the mountains they have ascended with its help.

The principal and his companions walked up to the Victoria Hotel, and inquired for Captain Kendall.  He had just returned from a ride, and while the waiter was taking Mr. Lowington’s card to him, Peaks presented himself in the court-yard.

“Can’t find him, sir,” said the boatswain, touching his hat.

“He must be somewhere in the city.”

“This man has toted me all over the town, but we can’t hear a word of him.  He wore the uniform of the ship, and people can’t tell one student from another.”

“I am confident he has not left the city.”

“Perhaps he has,” replied Peaks, as the servant returned, followed by Captain Kendall.

“Have you lost anything or anybody?” asked Paul, laughing, after he had saluted the principal.

“Yes, we have lost a student; an English boy we shipped at Christiansand.  Have you seen him?”

“Yes, sir; his room is N ­next to mine,” replied Paul, still laughing, as though he were much amused.

He was much amused; and that others may sympathize with him, let the reader return to Clyde Blacklock, who had shut himself up in his room to await the arrival of his mother.  He had not been in the house ten minutes before he began to be impatient and disgusted with his self-imposed confinement.  He examined himself carefully in the looking-glass, and was satisfied that his new clothes disguised him from his late shipmates, and also from those whom he had met on board of the Orlando.  Certainly they had wrought a very great change in his appearance, and with the round-top hat on, which was entirely different from anything he had worn before, even his mother would not recognize him, unless they came near enough together to enable her to scrutinize his features.  Of course none of the people from the squadron would come to the hotel, and he had not yet been called upon to register his name.

He unlocked his door, and went into the long entry which opened into the court-yard.  It was stupid to stay alone in his chamber.  It was some relief even to promenade the hall, for one so nervous as he was at this time.  If any of the Orlando’s passengers came near him, he could retreat into his room.  He walked up and down several times, but this soon became stale amusement.

“Who’s in the next room to mine?” he asked, as one of the waiters passed him in his promenade.

“Gentleman and lady from America, sir,” replied the man; “an uncommon handsome young woman, sir.”

Before the waiter could further express his opinion of the guests in N, Paul Kendall came out of the room, and, seeing the servant, ordered a carriage to be ready in half an hour.

“Is there much to see in this place, sir?” asked Clyde, politely.

“Not much, I think,” replied Paul.

“I dare say you are going into the interior, sir.”

“Not far.”

“There is fine fishing there,” persisted Clyde.

“So I am told; but I haven’t much time to spend in such sport, and I am afraid my wife would not enjoy it as well as I should.  Do you go to the interior?”

“Yes, sir; I intend to do so when my mother and sister arrive.  My mother goes a-fishing with me.”

“Does she, indeed?  You are from England, I suppose,” added Paul, who suspected that the young man was one of those lonesome travellers eager to make a friend, and actually suffering from the want of one.

“Yes; Mockhill Manor, New Forest, Hampshire.”

“Are you travelling alone?” asked Paul, who was full of sympathy for the apparent loneliness of the young man.

“I am alone just now, but I expect my mother and sister from Christiansand to-night,” replied Clyde.

“Can I do anything for you?” inquired Paul, who, after this explanation, did not regard the young gentleman’s situation as so hopeless.

In his own travels he had himself experienced that sense of loneliness which is a decided misery, and had met others afflicted with it.  From the manner of Clyde, he concluded he had an attack of it, and he desired to alleviate his sufferings; but if the young man’s friends were coming that night, his case could not be desperate.

“No, sir; I don’t know that you can.  I thought, as your room is next to mine, we might make it jolly for each other.  You are an American, sir, the waiter says.”

“Yes, I am,” laughed Paul.

“But you don’t talk through the nose.”

“Don’t I?  Well, I don’t perceive that you do, either.”

“I’m not a Jonathan,” protested Clyde.  “I dare say you are a fine gentleman, but I can’t say that of all the Americans.”

“Can’t you?  Well, I’m sorry for them.  Can you say it of all the Englishmen?”

“Yes, sir; I think I can of all we meet travelling.  The Americans are big bullies.  I settled accounts with one of them this very day,” chuckled Clyde.

“Ah! did you, indeed?”

“I think some of them know what it is to bully and insult an Englishman by this time,” added Clyde, rubbing his hands, as he thought of poor Peaks, floundering in the waters of the Fjord.  “Perhaps you’ve heard of that American Academy ship that came into Christiania to-day.”

“Yes, I have heard of her,” answered Paul, curiously.

“I saw her first at Christiansand, and went on board of her with my mother and sister.  I liked the looks of her, and fancied the young chaps on board of her were having a nice time.  I wanted to ship in her, and I did so; but I was never among such a set of tyrants in the whole course of my life.”

“Then you joined the ship,” replied Paul, who had heard of the new addition to the Young America’s crew, but had not seen him.

“I’m blamed if I didn’t; but before my mother left the ship, a big bully of a boatswain insulted me, and I changed my mind.  Yet the head master persuaded my mother to let him keep me in the ship, and I’m blamed if she didn’t leave me there.”

“Left you there,” added Paul, when Clyde paused, apparently to give his auditor the opportunity to express his sympathy for his unfortunate situation.

“Yes, sir; she left me there, and she won’t hear the last of it for one year,” replied Clyde, shaking his head.  “It was a mean trick, and I’ll pay her for it.”

“Probably she did it for the best,” suggested Paul, disgusted with the assurance, and especially with the want of respect for his mother which the youth manifested, though he was anxious to hear the conclusion of his story.

“I don’t care what she did it for; it was a scurvy trick.  I told her I wouldn’t stay in the ship, any how, and she permitted the big boatswain to hold me while she went ashore in a boat.  But I knew myself, if my mother didn’t know me, and I determined not to stay in her three days; and I didn’t,” chuckled Clyde, as he thought of what he called his own cleverness.

“What did you do?” asked Paul, deeply interested.

“I was willing to bide my time, and so I hauled sheets, and luffed, and tacked, and all that sort of thing, till we got to Christiania.  When I was pulling the main boom, or something of that kind, ­I don’t just know what it was now, ­one of the fellows in gold bands insulted me.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He ordered me to be silent, and another nob did the same thing.  I offered to fight them both, and I would have liked to show them what an English boy’s fist is made of; but the cowards set the boatswain on me again.  I would have licked him if he had fought fair; but he caught me foul, and I could do nothing.  I meant to be even with that big boatswain, and I think I am,” said Clyde, rubbing his hands again with delight, and laughing heartily when he thought of his brilliant achievement.

“Well, what did you do?”

“I just waited till the ship got to Christiania; and then, when all the students were at dinner, I found the big boatswain sitting on a beam that runs out over the water ­I forget what they call the beam, but it’s at the bow of the ship.”

“The bowsprit,” suggested Paul.

“No; I know the bowsprit.  It wasn’t that.  There was another beam like it on the other side.”

“O, the cat-head!”

“That’s just it.  Well, I went up to the big boatswain, and asked him to look at a ship, ­or a ’mofferdite brig, he called it.  He looked, and I just gave him a push, which dropped him off the cat’s head into the bay,” continued Clyde, who told his story with many a chuckle and many a laugh, seeming to enjoy it hugely himself, in spite of the want of sympathy on the part of his listener.

“You pushed him overboard!” exclaimed Paul.

“That I did, and did it handsomely, too.  He never knew what hurt him till he struck the water.  He swam for the bow, and I dropped into a boat, and came ashore.  I saw him climb up to the deck, but I was out of his way then.  Wasn’t that cleverly done?”

“Rather,” replied Paul, concealing his indignation.

“I think it was very cleverly done,” added Clyde, annoyed at the coolness of his companion.  “You couldn’t have done it better yourself, sir.”

“I don’t think I could,” replied Paul, dryly.  “And you expect your mother this evening.”

“Yes; and she shall take my name off the books of the ship.”

“Perhaps she will not.”

“O, but she will.  Then the two nobs that insulted me on the ship shall hear from me.”

“What do you intend to do with them?”

“I’ll whip them both; if I don’t my name isn’t Clyde Blacklock!”

“But they will take you back to the ship before your mother arrives.”

“I dare say they will, if they see me; but I don’t intend to go out of the hotel till my mother comes.  I shall stay in my room, or near it, the rest of the day.”

The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Kendall, who had been preparing for a ride about the city.  Paul conducted her to the carriage, satisfied that the new scholar could be found when wanted.  During their excursion he told his wife the adventures of Clyde.

“But what a simpleton he was to tell you these things!” added Grace.

“He did not suspect me of knowing anything about the ship.  He is one of those fellows, who, having done what he regards as a good thing, cannot help boasting of it.  He considers himself a first-class hero.”

When Paul returned from the ride, he found Clyde still walking about the hall, as uneasy as a fish out of water.

“Did you see anything of the Academy ship, sir?” asked he, after Mrs. Kendall had gone to her room.

“I saw her at anchor in the harbor, and all her people are walking about the town,” replied Paul.

“I’ve kept clear of them so far; but I want to catch the two fellows with the gold bands.”

“Perhaps some of them will catch you.”

“Not they!  I’m too cunning for clumsy fellows like them.”

“I see you are,” laughed Paul, amused at the assurance of the young Briton.

“If I see them, I’ll settle the Alabama claims with them on my own account.  But you ought to have seen the big boatswain floundering in the water, sir.”

“No doubt it was very funny.”

“It was, indeed,” added Clyde, as the waiter appeared, and handed a card to Captain Kendall.

“In the court yard, sir,” said the servant; and Paul followed the man to the place where the visitors were waiting.

Peaks, as dry, clean, and good-natured as ever, was talking to Mr. Lowington.  Paul could not help laughing as he thought of the confidence which Clyde had reposed in him, and that the fugitive had voluntarily, and without any precautions, told his adventures to one who really belonged to the fleet.

“He has told me all about it,” said Paul.

“Told you?” exclaimed Mr. Lowington.

“Yes, sir; how he pushed Peaks overboard, and then ran away,” laughed Paul.  “I don’t often wear my uniform on shore, for my wife thinks it attracts too much attention; so that he did not suspect me of any connection with the fleet.”

“But where is he now?” asked the principal.

“I left him in the hall only a moment since.”

“Show me his room, my hearty,” said Peaks to the waiter.

“Call a carriage,” added Mr. Lowington.  “He will make a disturbance in the streets.”

The servant led the way to the room of Clyde, followed by the rest of the party.  All were rather anxious to see the clever Briton, who had done such wonders of valor and cunning, captured.

But Clyde had a pair of eyes, and, withal, a pair of ears.  From the hall where he promenaded were several doors opening into the court-yard.  Perhaps the youth had a Yankee’s curiosity to see who called upon his new acquaintance, and he went to one of these doors.  He saw Paul walk up to the principal, and shake hands with him.  There was the big boatswain too, and there were two of the nobs with the gold bands.  It was evident enough to Clyde, then, that he had made a blunder in relating his exploits to a stranger.  But the battle was not lost yet.  His chamber was on the ground floor, and had a window which opened into Dronningensgaden.  Without losing another instant, he opened the window, and dropped out into the street.  He did not even wait to take the bundle which contained his ship’s uniform.

When Peaks entered the chamber, the bird had flown, and the open window indicated the means by which he had escaped; but Clyde had several minutes the start of his pursuers, and had made good use of his time.  The boatswain dropped out of the window, followed by Norwood and Lincoln, while the principal and the doctor went round by the doors as the more dignified means of egress.  Peaks went one way, and the two lieutenants the other way.

Clyde, fearful that haste might look suspicious, walked a short distance, till he came to a building on which was a sign, Hotel du Nord, and which appeared to be under repairs.  He stepped in at the open door, and went up stairs.  Men were at work in some of the rooms; but he avoided them, and appeared to be looking over the building.  At last he came to an open window on the street from which he had entered.  He looked out, and in the distance saw his pursuers running rapidly in opposite directions.  After he had remained in the hotel about an hour, he ventured to leave, and walked very cautiously up the street.  Feeling the need of an overcoat, he entered a store, and purchased one, which still further disguised him, so that if he met any of his late shipmates, they would be still less likely to recognize him.  He walked till he came to a carriage stand; where, entering a vehicle, he pointed in the direction he wished to go, which was towards the king’s palace.  When the driver stopped at the gate, he pointed towards the hills in the rear of the city.  The Norwegian looked astonished, and could not understand him.

“I want to go out of town.”

The driver drove his horse to the other side of the street, and hailed a short, stout man, who was passing at the time.

“Do you want a guide, sir?” asked the stranger.

“Yes,” promptly replied Clyde.

“Where do wish to go?”

“Over there,” replied Clyde, pointing again in the direction he wished to go.

“To Sandviken?”

“Yes; that’s the place,” added the youth, who did not care where he went, if he could only get out of the city.

“It is more than eight miles,” suggested the guide.

“I don’t care if it is eighty; that’s where I want to go.  Are you a commissionaire?”

“Yes.  I belong to the Victoria Hotel.”

“All right; jump in.”

The man made a bargain with the driver, and in a few moments Clyde was on his way to Sandviken, confident that he had escaped any further pursuit.  He had already come to the conclusion not to see his mother until after the Young America had left Christiania.

In the mean time, Peaks had given up the chase.  Paul assured the principal that Clyde would come back as soon as his mother arrived.  Mr. Lowington did not care to have the new scholar see his mother again if he was to be a student in the Academy; but as Clyde could not be found, there appeared to be no alternative.

In a couple of hours, the fugitive reached Sandviken, where he informed his astonished guide that he intended to proceed to Christiansand by land.  His courier was willing to go with him so long as he was paid; and as Clyde had plenty of money, and disbursed it freely, there was no difficulty.  Though the next day was Sunday, the young traveller continued his journey, and on Monday afternoon arrived at Apalstoe, at the head of one of the inland lakes, where he intended to sleep; but the station-house was full.  Clyde was tired, and did not feel like going any farther.  While he was sending his courier to look up a bed for him, about a dozen boys wearing the uniform of the Academy ship flashed upon his view.  He was astonished and alarmed.  He suspected that this party had been sent to the interior to head him off.  He was determined not to be an easy victim.

One of the party had a good-sized salmon in his hand, which indicated that they had been a-fishing.

They took no notice of him, though they could not help seeing him, and Clyde took courage from this circumstance.

The fishing squad was composed of the crew of the second cutter ­the unfortunates who had been run down by the steamer.