reaching a little lower than half way clown a
pair of the neatest legs I ever saw. These dear
legs in bright sealing-wax red stock-lugs,
shooting boots with brass eyelet-holes,
and brass-bound heels. Add to her other
charms, that she could "snakke Norsk," and
say "Tak," and "Vœr saa god," with the
prettiest air imaginable.

As she and I were both bound on the same
errand, namely, to kill salmon, we soon entered
into conversation. She had never fly-fished
before, though she averred she could throw a
fly pretty well. I was curious to learn how
she had acquired the art.

"I used to get Bob, the gardener's boy," she
said, " to stand at a respectable distance, and
then I would make casts at him till I could
touch almost any button on Ins waistcoat. When
I had practised throwing, long enough, I would
cry, "Now, Bob, hook on!' and so Bob fastened
the end of his line round a button, and,
imagining himself a salmon, rushed off as fast as he
could. 'Now, Bob, up stream; now jump!'
and then I lower the end of my rod."

"Quite right," I said; "I see you know all
about it."

"And then, when we were both fairly out of
breath, I would call out, 'Now, Bob, come and
be gaffed!' And so ended my morning's
practice!"

If there had not been so many spectators, I
would have offered nay services there and then
to act the salmon. I'm sure she could have
hooked me easy enough!

There was one old Norwegian on board, and a
cynical dog he was. He could speak English
pretty well, and seemed rejoiced at having the
opportunity of speaking it with a native. The
following is the "burthen of his tale" put in
better English than he used:

"What a queer lot of fellows you English
are," he said, after we had spoken together for
a while, " coming all this way to catch fish, and
to hunt deer. Besides, you do a wonderful lot
of harm to our peasantry."

"How so!" I said. "We pay pretty well
for our amusement."

"Much better stay at home," growled my
friend. "You are so inconsistent; at one time
you overpay, at another you underpay. If
some of you are munificent, others are mean and
stingy to a degree. Our simple-hearted people
can't understand such treatment. You do them
as much harm by paying grandly, as by paying
meanly."

I could not but acknowledge that there was a
truth in his remarks.

"To give you an instance," he added; "last
year I met one of your countrymen, and he
certainly maintained the character you bear of being
a nation of grumblers. At every station at which
he stopped, some complaint was entered in the
road-book. Now 'he had been kept waiting
ten minutes for horses,'or' he had been charged
an exorbitant price for a cup of coffee,' or
'the station-master was an extortionate rascal.'
Of course, all these remarks were Hebrew to
the individual denounced, but perhaps they were
intended for the benefit of future English
travellers. But I was glad to sec, on returning by
the same route, that some others of your
countrymen had felt disgusted at his remarks, for I
found at one place, entered below one of his
complaints, 'This old grumbler ought to have
remained at home;' and at another, 'I have to
complain that I found no toothpicks at this
station;' and ' Mr.——does not seem to have
enjoyed his trip overmuch.'"

"I rather think I know the man you mean,"
I said.

But now the boat had arrived at Lillehammer,
so bidding adieu to our friends, we hastened up
to the inn. Early next morning we started
for our fishing quarters, where we remained
three weeks, meeting with fair success, at the
end of which we found ourselves only too glad
to go up to what I shall call Nameless Fjeld,
where I had had a small shooting-box knocked
up. I purposely omit the name of the Fjeld, as I
have a great desire to keep this bit of ground to
myself. Pardonable selfishness!

It is not my purpose to enter into a detailed
account of our manner of living up there. Nor
how we feasted like princes on trout, char, ryper,
venison, cloud-berries and cream from a
neighbouring 'Sœter;' neither will I recount all our
sporting adventures, and how Bogus would spend
all his time in going after an imaginary bear,
which of course he never saw, and which, I
believe, nobody ever did see; I will merely recount
the deeds of September 4th: a day ever
memorable in the sporting annals of Nameless Fjeld.

It was our custom to divide our forces so
that only two went out reindeer hunting, while
the others remained near home, to pay their
attentions to the ryper and ptarmigan, and to
catch trout and char, with which the small tarns
and "becks" abounded. This day it was
Bogus's turn to go reindeer hunting with me.
It was as lovely a morning as ever hunter saw,
when we left our quarters at four in the morning.
We bent our steps to a part of the Fjeld
where the other two had seen a large herd of
deer the day before, but had been unable to get
near them.

After a long and tedious walk, halting every
few minutes to sweep the horizon with our
glasses, we arrived at the spot where we
expected to find them. Not a horn could we see.
But there were signs that there had been a
large number there only very recently, for we
could see where they had been cropping the
Alpine ranunculus, their favourite
"bonue-bouche." The dog began to sniff about, and,
after satisfying himself that there was nothing
close by, seemed as if he caught scent of them
at a long distance. The boy who accompanied
us held nim lightly in leash, and we determined
to follow him in any direction he might choose.
We walked on, perhaps for an hour, when all
at once we detected the herd at about three
English miles distant.

We could see them quite plainly through our
glasses, and counted more than a hundred,