We spoke of the independence of Norway from Sweden, and the lady said that the Norwegians rejoiced in their freedom. I asked whether there was no regret in Norway over the separation from Sweden, because of the increase of taxation—as some Swedes had told me that there was. “No; we have no regrets,” she said; “we are free; we have our own king, and, besides, our taxes are no higher.” That was the sort of reply I had received to similar queries all the way down the Norwegian coast. I felt that it was representative of the Norwegian people as a whole; and I rejoiced with them that they had at last gained the freedom for which they had so long waited.

I am moved by the remembrance of the lady merchant’s politeness to a digressive dissertation upon Scandinavian manners; for the more I have seen of Scandinavia the more I am convinced that the manners here are superior to our own. My comparison is between the rank and file of people in both lands; I know little about the socially élite in either country. In Sweden, especially in the cities, because of the French influence which came with the Bernadotte line of kings, one finds greater elegance and polish (I believe that I mentioned to you the grand bows of my Söderhamn cousins); and in Norway one notices greater simplicity and directness, for Norway is the most democratic of the Scandinavian lands. Nevertheless, the code of manners is very similar all over Scandinavia; the people are everywhere courteous, and their courtesy reflects their national characteristics—reserve, sincerity, and kindness.

I was particularly struck with the pleasant way in which the people “speak each other in passing.” Upon entering a compartment in a railroad train a passenger quietly greets the occupants already there, and upon leaving he utters a comprehensive farewell. The same courtesy is observed in Scandinavia among strangers wherever the daily round of life brings them into contact. For instance, a shopper does not think of making a purchase without first greeting the salesman; or of departing from a shop without a courteous word of leave-taking. Scandinavians are not too busy thus to recognize our common humanity. I like the custom well.

“Vaer saa god” is a polite expression which one hears everywhere in Scandinavia. The words as I have given them are Danish, but they are the same in Sweden or Norway, except for slight variation in spelling and, consequently, in pronunciation. We have no single equivalent in English for the expression, which literally means “Be so good”; but its use is very similar to the German “Bitte.” These versatile words are employed where we would use “Please,” “I beg your pardon,” “Permit me,” and the like—and in some cases where we would say nothing at all.

The handshake is an important institution in Scandinavia; the American handshake would appear to be but a very degenerate vestige of it. People here not only shake hands more commonly than we do at meeting and parting, and upon offering congratulations, but they also give the hand upon offering thanks for a gift; and to seal a business transaction; and, most interesting of all, at the close of a meal.

This last usage seems especially quaint and formal, but it is still very common among country people. Upon rising from the table at the conclusion of a meal a guest offers his hand to his host and hostess and says: “Tak for mad”—Thanks for the meal. (This is the Danish spelling; the Swedish differs slightly.) And in old-fashioned Scandinavian households the little children are trained to offer thanks to their parents in the same formal manner for the food of which they have partaken.

In his essay on “Grace before Meat,” Charles Lamb suggests that the custom of offering a prayer of thanksgiving before meals originated in the “early times of the world, and the hunter state of man, when dinners were precarious things and a full meal was something more than a common blessing.” The practice of saying “Tak for mad” after the meal to those to whom one is most directly indebted for it, I suggest, may have an equally venerable origin.

The customary reply to an expression of thanks is “Vaelkommen” or “Sel tak,” which, literally translated, is “Thanks yourself”; but it is really the equivalent of our phrase, “The pleasure is all mine.”

I have mentioned merely the most noticeable courteous usages of the Scandinavians, and now I must close my dissertation. But in doing so I wish to suggest the reason why the Scandinavian in the United States seems frequently so lacking in manners. To the average American he is a “damned foreigner”; he even acknowledges himself a “greenhorn”; and in his eager attempt to bridge the chasm between himself and the native American, he quickly drops all polite usages peculiar to his home land—for they rouse only ill-concealed amusement—and adopts the more obvious American polite forms such as get his attention. In consequence, the fine-mannered Scandinavian becomes the rude Scandinavian-American. I have repeatedly seen this unfortunate transformation take place in newly-arrived Scandinavians in the United States.

Now I am back at Aalesund again, mentally, as I have been physically, the whole evening. It is to be my point of departure from the fiords. And I am glad to depart, for Aalesund is devoted almost completely to fish industries. Fish or skeletons of fish everywhere! For instance, this evening as we slipped into the harbor, I noticed incredibly large stacks of fish bones outside of some mills, waiting to be ground up, after which they begin another career of usefulness as guano, or fertilizer, for impoverished soil. And think of the mountains of fish which contribute the bones!

The place is very fishy indeed. And lest you begin to taste cod-liver oil I will break off now and bid you good-by until I reach Christiania, whither I am bound, via Bergen.