a perilous quantity of fish have I caught in the process, for it is a deadly one; so is netting; but sport, I say, there is none. Ottering is a science compared to it, and requires a deal of skill and management. Try having two salmon on at the same time, and kill one if you can. There is sport, too, in cross-lining with two rods, and the playing a salmon in this sort of fishing is no such easy matter-the gaffing him still harder. If you think so, try it on a rough day, on the lower lake of Killarney. There is even some excitement in worm-fishing, with a float for gudgeons. There is immense excitement in watching your float; and when he begins to bob, and when he goes down with a rush, oh, don't you feel your heart palpitating? But to sit in a boat, and to be zigzagged over a broad river with a heavy rod, and heavy tackle, and large flies out at the stern-all I can say is, and I know what it is, it ain't to my taste, and I had rather, ten to one, kill pinkeens in a small trout stream than thirty-pounders after this fashion. Yet, strange to say, I have heard the very men who look down upon killing salmon in a loch from a coble, honestly casting, speak in raptures of the Norwegian style of fishing which is practised in some of the celebrated Nor

wegian rivers. But then they reckon their fish not by the pound, but by the ton. Of course I know very well that many fine Norwegian rivers are not fished by trolling, but by fair casting, both from shore and boat; therefore let no one fancy I mean anything like detraction. Besides, may not these be something like the acidity of the grapes? Therefore do I all day—and may be I dream of it by night-anxiously, almost, pray that we may see Norway again, and get a chance at some of its rivers; and then next year, perhaps we may recant and apologize, which we fondly hope we may have an opportunity of doing. Throndhjem is a nice cheery town. A good many of the habitués of Norway pass through on their way to and from the North, and foregather there to recount their deeds. It is a sort of Norwegian Capua, and as many fair dames, nowaday, must have their salmon-fishing, as well as their hunting (no wonder Young England is shy of matrimony!), there are a great many of the prettiest wide-awakes about, for the Ryper feathers and the bits of Norwegian furs do look stunning; and I don't think my kind friend could have torn himself away, but that he saw my heart was pining for the wilds, and as he devoted all his energies

during the whole of this Norwegian tour to cater for my amusement, to the giving up of his own, he gave the word for the route. A distant rumour told, too, that one of our, or his, quarters had been invaded by buccaneering loafers, and our sanctum pillaged. But no!this was too horrible to be true. So we shut our ears, but still there was a buzzing inside them.

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CHAPTER IV.

OUR CABINS.

T last we got quit of Throndhjem and embarked ourselves and our dogs in a little steam-tug, which my friend chartered for the occasion, and steamed away for our quarters. It is a grand ffiord, as I said before, that ffiord of Throndhjem; and then we had a bit of open sea, over and through which the tug kicked, and lurched, and plunged, after a very furious fashion, and towards seven in the evening landed us at our quarters-very comfortable quarters. After dinner, and by way of a comfortable night's rest, we had the pleasure of ascertaining the truth of the report that had reached us in Throndhjem-that a certain buccaneer had been a little beforehand with us, and done us the great kindness of shooting great part of the best ground, on which he had killed a good deal of game. My friend was naturally frantic, and an investigation is to take place as to the merits.

of the case; the results of which will be related. Next morning we took the field, each with our dog, and walked a good deal, with small results-our chief pursuit was black-game, of which we saw very few, and a few Ryper. But then we did not know the ground, and our gilly either did not know it better than ourselves, or, if he did, did not lead us to much. And I soon saw that working your ground to the best of your own, and your dog's abilities, must be the order of the day. I had in former days seen something of blackgame shooting, of which I did not entertain the highest opinion. Early in the season it is the tamest of sports, as the cocks are then moulting. You must not shoot the hens, and when the cocks have got their proper plumage, they take care of themselves. But my shooting had been on muirland, with a sprinkling of alder, or other bushes, round which there is always some swampy ground, in which I generally found them. Our quarter is more or less thick forest land, something like the Thuringer Wald, or the Hartz Mountains,hill upon hill, rocky, and capped with oak and other timber; the flats between these ridge of hill being swamp, and more open, but still a great deal of wood. There I looked