TROUT-FISHING IN SWEDISH LAPLAND. 53 



the north side. Birch-covered promontories ran out 

 into the lake in all directions, while 



The woods sloped downward to its brink, and stood 

 With their green faces fixed upon the flood. 



On the south-west the mountains rose in broken 

 masses, the highest covered with snow. 



A soft haze peculiar to these regions filled the 

 air, making the distance indistinct, and adding to 

 the perfection of its loveliness. Numerous rocks, 

 stones, and islands projected above the surface, 

 giving one an impression that there were many more 

 below which might make navigation somewhat 

 dangerous. 



Down this lake we drifted, therefore, before the 

 wind for many English miles, till the little log hut 

 came in view. Here no one was to be seen except 

 some children, left to take care of themselves while 

 the settler and his wife were away hay-cutting. As 

 there was apparently no trout stream near, I could 

 find nothing to do except to lie on the grass and 

 watch the children killing sparrows. Holding a long 

 branch upright with a bunch of twigs growing at the 

 end they advanced slowly and stealthily on their 

 prey, which were usually feeding in the grass and 

 mistook the children possibly for a new species of 

 moving tree, until the branch descended suddenly on 

 the ground with a swish. The next proceeding was 

 the return of the two inhabitants a man and boy, 

 who immediately started off in a boat with their trout 



