210 HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS 



I left Alfheim on the 22nd with many regrets, and 

 with a feeling that if I am ever fortunate enough to 

 visit the dear upland valley again, I may hope to be 

 even more successful with the trout. Perhaps, too, 

 next time I may see the Northern Lights, which did 

 not flash in the heavens on this occasion, as I was 

 told they often do. But I doubt if they could have 

 rivalled in beauty the effect of the August full moon 

 as it rose like a great shield of silver at the head 

 of the valley above Gjora, and reminded me of the 

 lines which Tennyson puts into the mouth of Jeph- 

 thah's daughter : 



" The balmy moon of blessed Israel 

 Floods all the deep blue gloom with beams divine : 

 All night the splinter'd crags that wall the dell 

 With spires of silver shine." 



