One of the chief objects of my expedition was to diffuse knowledge tending towards emigration, and whether driving over the fjelds, scaling mountains, resting at stations, or coasting along the shore in steamers, I everywhere preached an immigration crusade to the laborer's paradise in the New World. I spoke of our homestead law — the fertility of our soil — the length of our summer — the richness of our immense mining districts, but I found nothing so telling as the simple description of the condition and prospects of the working man in the United States of America. Of fifty odd postillions I had along the road, all promised me to immigrate to the United States next Spring, save one; he, I ascertained, had been in England for nine months, and, judging all foreign countries by the one he had visited, concluded, perhaps wisely according to his light, to remain at home. ( ... ) Sometimes some Norwegian proprietors, not liking perhaps the tendency of things, would commence a discussion in presence of the deck-passengers. I found it very easy to refute all their arguments. When driven from every other point they invariably took refuge under the palladium of patriotism — love for Gamle Norge (Old Norway). To this I replied, that I recognized no love of country, not connected with love for our countrymen; if then, as they had been constrained to admit, the Norwegian laborer bettered his condition by immigrating into the United States, true patriotism should assist him to go, not hinder him from going. I however always treated these Norwegian gentlemen personally with the greatest respect. In no case did one discussion descend to altercation, and no unfriendly words were ever used.