XXXI 



TOO LATE LAPPLAND 

 1901 



WE had landed from our canoe to prepare a midnight meal 

 on the rocky bank of a wide river, somewhere far within 

 the Arctic Circle. Opposite rose a high bank of boulders, gravel 

 and sand, covered with a thin layer of mould, the whole 

 gradually but surely crumbling away under the combined in- 

 fluence of rushing waters and ice passing in the spring. Beyond, 

 and indeed all around, rose picturesque mountains, clothed 

 below in moss, heather, and birch scrub, but bare rock above, 

 those opposite bright and golden now as they reflected the 

 midnight sun. Where we had landed, close to the outfall 

 of a noisy mountain stream, a tiny valley descended from 

 the hills ; it was now beautifully green when all else lay 

 dried up, thanks to the moisture from the brook, and flowers, 

 blue, yellow, white, and red, flourished, and gave colour to the 

 scene. 



Among the boulders close to the river we lighted a fire and 

 cooked our coffee, the writer and his two boatmen, Lapps, 

 excellent fellows and splendid men at their trade. Although 

 long after midnight it was as bright as day, for we were beyond 

 the 70th degree of latitude and the sun never set. Fishing for 

 salmon, we had tried the pools down from the house, leaving 

 there late in the evening when the sun no longer shone on the 

 river, and were now resting from our, alas ! unrewarded labours 

 before giving the fish another chance. But it was far too late 

 in the year, there could be no doubt of that ; we ought to 

 have been here three weeks before. An unusually early season 

 was followed by perpetual clear, cloudless skies and hot weather ; 



