224 LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



There are now a man and three women upon it, mow- 

 ing and gathering in whatever growth it bears, so that 

 not even this is unworthy of the economy enforced by 

 their hard conditions of life. We fall into converse, as 

 we walk, about the manner in which the Norway salmon 

 are netted, and truly the wonder is that so many run 

 the gauntlet and reach the spawning grounds. In 

 ascending the fiords the fish creep along within some 

 twenty yards of the shore, and this makes it easy for 

 the native to intercept them. Besides bag and stake 

 nets, there is a look-out dodge, under which a primitive 

 but fatal net is hung out at each promontory in the 

 direct path of the travelling fish. The nets are off, 

 however, and the traps open after the middle of August. 

 Thus holding sweet counsel by the way like the pil- 

 grims of old, we defy the north wind, and can afford 

 to stop occasionally to admire the new panorama 

 which has been arranged during the night. Where 

 there were only occasional patches of snow yesterday, 

 to-day there is a widespread whitening, and the folds 

 of the ermine mantle are lying far down the shoulders, 

 traces of the first heavy downfall of the season. We 

 do not expect any sport to-day, but a moderately lucky 

 star smiles, and for myself, on one of Bickerdyke's 

 Salmo irritans (Jock Scott) patterns, I get a lively 

 quarter of an hour with an ii-lb. sea trout, a grand 

 fish, so thick that I am not certain about it until I lay 

 it on the grass. There was a fish of 14 Ib. or 15 Ib. killed 

 by my friend yesterday, which he pronounced a fair 

 sample of the richly spotted and burly bull trout which 

 runs up late in the season. He himself has killed one 

 of 19 Ib. My fish I at first fancied might be one of 

 the breed, but it is not, as indeed I see for myself the 

 moment he points out the difference. In the after- 

 noon I flank this fine Salmo trutta with a brace more 



