Round the yule-log: Christmas in Norway

The wind was whistling through the old lime and maple trees opposite my windows, the snow was sweeping down the street, and the sky was black as a December sky can possibly be here in Christiania. My comrades had all left town, and I knew no family with whom I could make myself at home during the holidays. The antiquated appearance of these ladies was also in the strictest harmony with the house in which they lived.