182 A SPRING AND SUMMER IN LAPLAND. 



Another beautiful morning, mild as spring — 

 in fact, such an autumn as this up to November, 

 I never recollect in the north. We went up again 

 into the forest about 2 p.m., to try fishing again. 

 It seems, however, that the weather did not just 

 suit the trout, for we had hard work in about 

 two miles of water to catch enough for our dinner. 

 "We dined by the side of the lake, and then pro- 

 ceeded to lay out the long line, and this took 

 us till night. Our baits were dew- worms on large 

 perch-hooks. We also set four standing flews, a 

 species of net I never recollect seeing in England. 



By the time we had finished our work, even- 

 ing was closing in; and, as we had a keeper's 

 cottage within two miles, thither we repaired to 

 wait anxiously for the morning. In the night we 

 were joined by two friends, the one a regular 

 " bushman," one of the best bear and elk hunters 

 in the north ; the other a townsman, in a frock- 

 coat and Wellingtons, of whom a grim old 

 wood- watcher observed, en passant, " They should 

 not send such a fellow as that out into the forest 

 without a collar on him." However, he was the 

 only one of the party who was fated to get a shot 

 at an elk next day. 



We were out as soon as day dawned, and it 

 was the very morning of all others for elk- shooting. 

 A little rain had fallen in the night, and a heavy 



