114 : 
IvdCsLT 22 
XOTES OF XORWAY TRAVEL. 
[The Hon. Judge Caton whose accomplished pen is 
well known to our readers, is about to publish an ac- 
count of his late trip to Norway, a region of Europe 
abounding in romantic scenery. We are enabled by 
Judge Caton’s courtesy to present an extract from the 
work which is now going through the press.] 
“ Here we were in Norway at last. The land of 
myths and mysteries, of ghosts and hobgolins, of giants, 
of ghouls, of fancy ‘forms and of fairy tales, and a 
thousand mystic charms with which the imagination 
hadjClothed their islands and their fjords, their ninun- 
tains and their streams, and their people too. We 
thought not of the night, but strained our eyes in the 
dim twilight to see how looked their lands, their fences, 
and their houses, their boats, their dresses, their forms 
and their faces. For the latter we need not have,^been so 
anxious, for we had seen some of them at home. 
“ When we had exchanged passengers and the Tasso 
had lifted up her anchor, we steamed away through the 
tortuous channel" among the islands, and we saw it was 
growing lighter before it was yet dark, and we appreci- 
ated that we must stretch ourselves upon the floor or 
we should lose the little darkness there was to aid us in 
our sleep and this was the last of any show of night for 
the month to come. Now it was that we began to under- 
stand how far north we were, and how near we were to 
that day which is a summer long. But three days be- 
fore, we had left England in a night which lasted long 
enough to give ene a good refreshing sleep, and yet in 
so short a flight we had outrun the night, only the thin 
skirts of which still hung around us, holding a last 
struggle with perpetual day, which lay but a span before 
us. Already the strange sensation of so great a change 
began to creep over us, and it seemed as if we were at 
the confines of another world, where the laws of nature, 
as we had always known them, were suspended. Al- 
ready the angel of sleep seemed to have taken his final 
flight to more sombre and more congenial regions, and 
left us to our fate, to struggle as we might for a short 
repose with that light so hostile to his sway. 
"We slept but little that morning, for morning had 
come so soon as evening had gone by. liuring the 
small hours the whistle blew for Christiansund, and I 
hastened out to get another peep at Norwegian scenery 
and the Norwegian people. Here some Englishmen 
and their families left the steamer, for a summer cam- 
paign among the salmon. They evidently meant to 
have a good time, for they filled a lighter with their sup- 
plies, -prominent among which were many baskets of 
champagne, with a great abundance of provisions of 
nearly all kinds which good living could suggest. From 
this it was inferred that they were not well up to Norwe- 
gian eiittoin*, for of all things provisions are taxed with 
the highest duties of any imports admtted to the country 
and could be bought outright for the duties which they 
would have to pay. ell, OS' they went, with the good 
wishes of their friends left behind, with a journey of 
thirty or forty miUs before them to reach the river they 
had rented. 
The rivers of Norway afiord the finest salmon fishing 
in the world, and all are now rented to Englishmen. 
The rents are paid to the riparian owners, and the leases 
are executed by them. Some lease a whole river, others 
take half a mile, a mile, or ten miles. Many have to go 
forty or fifty miles up the river, to reach their fishing 
ground, where they have built comfortable lodges. "W'e 
should consider the rents high for six week’s sport at 
the best, ranging from a few hundred dollars to several 
thousands. Some years the fishsng is very fine, and the 
strings taken are very large; and this indeed is generally 
the case, but sometimes it is very poor, and the sports- 
man gets the exercise without the fish. This was one 
of the poorest seasons ever known, and when I left Nor- 
way, the season being more than half" over, I only heard 
of four having been taken in the regular way — that is, 
with the fly, and if these were charged with all the 
money expended in fly-fishing for salmon in Norway, 
they cost more than ten thousand pounds each. We 
had thepileasnre of helping to eat one of these costly 
fish. 
On our return from above the Arctic circle some 
weeks later, we stopped a few days at Storen, by invi- 
tation of Mr. Burrows, to witness the sport. He was 
the father of fly-fishing in Norwa}', having wandered 
thither a quarter of a century ago in the pursuit of his 
favorite sport, and there he found it to his very fill. He 
fished the kingdom over, and finally leased the river at 
Storen as the most eligible of all, and every year finds 
him on his favorite ground, whipping the stream every 
day, morning and evening, rain or shine, whether the 
fish rise or not. I thought I had seen fly-fishing before, 
and had even made many a cast myself for trout and 
bass, though never for a salmon; but he handled the 
rod with more dexterity than I have ever seen in other 
bands. Standing in the tiny boat, worked up and 
down the rapid » atei s by a skillful man at the oars, he 
would cast thirty or forty yards of line at a clean swing 
with only a single fly, and drop it at the full length, or 
at any reasonable intermediate point, precisely where 
he desired.] I watched him by the hour, charmed with 
the skill displayed. He generally fished as wide tis pos- 
sible, the same graceful loop and curve alwaj-s forming 
far behind him, and then stretching out its full length 
far away, the fly would drop upon the water as gently 
as a light flake of snow in a calm day. But there was 
no response; with all his skill and all his perseverance, 
not a single break was seen. I would have given much 
to have seen a rise of a thirty-pounder, and the veteran 
fisher fight him up and down the river, and I think he 
would have doubled my offer; but this could not be, 
and so I was obliged to be content to witness only half 
his skill. 
“ But, Mr. Burrows,” said I, “ are tnere no fish in 
the nver? When in other sea-sons you say you would 
have taken a dozen while 1 have been lying on this soft 
bank, looking at you?” 
“ Indeed,” he replied, as he reeled in his line with a 
heavy sigh, “the river is full of fish as it ever is, but 
they hava the sulks and won’t rise. At the mouth they 
catch them with their infernal nets by the cart-load, and 
quite as many as they ever do. I can’t explain it. I 
can’t understand it I have studied these fish for 
twenty years and more, and think I know all their 
ways, but this is one for which I can conceive of no rea- 
son. When I came the water was high, and 1 thought 
that might be the reason; but here I have been after 
them faithfully every day till now it is low, and yet not 
a single rise. This unaccountable habit of the fish is 
not confined to this river, but front the reports I get, it 
is universal throughout Norway, even clear around 
North Cape to the Russian line, and probably beyond. 
The same thing has occurred a few times before, but it 
is very exceptional. That the fish are abundant, and in 
fine condition, is shown by those taken at the mouths 
of the rivers, where the nets are allowed to he stretched 
across them three days in the week. When these nets 
were first introduced they were in constant use, and 
practically barred the rivers to the access of the salmon, 
and would soon have resulted in their total extinction; 
but government soon interfered, and now the fish stand 
at least half a chance, and that is enough to make them 
plenty in these congenial waters.” 
“ But,” said I, “would they not bite at live bait?’’ 
“Oh, yes,” replied the disciple of Izaak, “no doubt 1 
could fill the boat in a short time by tempting them 
with live bait, but in doing so I should take no satisfac- 
tion; indeed, I should feel myself disgraced, and would 
never show m)'self at the club again.” 
“ Of course,” said I, “you would not adopt that as a 
mode of fishing, but in the cause of science, surely it 
would be permissible. For myself, I am something of 
a naturalist, and am interested to learn all the habits of 
the animals which come within the range of my obser- 
vation, and it would be interesting to know how far 
these fish have departed from their usual habits in this 
exceptional season.” 
“ ‘Nay, nay,’ said mine host, as he gravely turned 
his face toward the lodge, having handed his rod to an 
attendant, and beckoned the ladies and gentlemen who 
were seated within the shade of a large white birch tree, 
beneath which was a soft carpet of green grass, ‘ it would 
be very unscientific to take salmon with anything but a 
decent fly. Deceive them with that as much as you can, 
but do not conceal a hook beneath that which they 
must take or starve, and then haul them ashore as you 
would a quarter of beef. Give them a chance for their 
lives. 'VTith the fly it is a trial of wit, and they are 
pretty sharp too to detect the imposture. Usually, they 
will first strike the fiy with the tail to see if it be not a 
counterfeit, and if it is bunglingly made or handled, 
they will laugh at you and dart away. Ah, it is glorious 
fun to deceive such sharp fellows, and then to meet and 
disanpoint all their efiorts to get away when once you 
have hooked one! I have sometimes had to fight a big 
one an hour and had to run all the rapids within a mile, 
before he would give up, and sometimes in spite of all, 
he will find a snag or rock to whip the line around, and 
break loose. An old salmon is as cunning as a fox, but 
we must look beyond this element in his character to 
find a cause for their not rising to the fly in a season 
like this. In the forepart of the season we attributed it 
to the high water, arising from the late melting of the 
snow on the mountains, and indeed, it has always been 
late seasons when this peculiarity has been observed; 
but if high water were the sole cause, we should take 
them now when the water is low, but, as you see, they 
are as obstinate as ever. 
“ ‘ Come, let us to the lodge, and see if they difler in 
taste as well as habit, from ordinary seasons. Adams 
killed one this morning, the first of the season in these 
waters, and I had hoped it was the beginning of a run 
of luck, but now I see it was exceptional.’ 
“ We soon found ourselves discussing the fish at the 
hospitable board of our kind host, listening to anec- 
dotes of Norwegian sports, and so passed the time till 
eight o’clock, when we returned to our rooms in the 
town a mile away. The gentlemen accompanied us on 
our return, when 31r. Burrows, wno talks Norsk like a 
native, explained some of our wants to the landlord, and 
then left us for the evening.” 
THE TRAPPER’S FIRESIDE. 
A REMIXISCENCK. 
BY CORPORAL LOTT WARFIELD. 
The winter of 1845-6, found the writer hereof enjoy- 
ing the glorious sport of fox hunting in the southerly 
part of Vermont. Foxes then were more plenty than 
now, and it was often my- good fortune to shoot two, 
and sometimes three, foxes in a day before my slow- 
going, long-winded bound. Music. I had pelted three 
one day, ere it was yet noon, and as a storm teemed im- 
minent, and having had such good success, concluded 
to return home, and started for a short cut through a 
balsam swamp. Here old Music struck a fresh track 
and gave tongue warningly, and ere I could gel ready 
for a shot a large silver-gray fox |>assed by and out of 
sight. I previously knew of its existenae, and had been 
most anxious to get a shut at him, but whenever Music 
bad started him be would make straight away for a 
range of bills many miles distant. This time my blood 
was up, and without heeding the signs of storm I oushed 
on at a rapid pace, my snow shoes keeping me well up 
on the frozen snow. My idea of a siraight-away run 
was soon reached to a certainty by the “sounding” dy- 
int away entirely. Towards the latter part of the after- 
noon I arrived on the range where I expected the fox 
to play but the snow had already begun to descend in 
heavy showers. I did not hear from the hound; proba- 
bly he had already lost the scent in which case he would 
now take the back track and find me. 1 had no oppor- 
tunity to lay a course to any farm-house in the vicinity, 
since most of the distance traversed had been in the for- 
est and in an intervening basin between the hills at that. 
Here I was on the spur of a steep mountain, nearly 
hemmed in by forest in a furious storm and night shut- 
ting down. I at once saw how futile would be the at- 
tempt to find my way home in the blinding storm and 
darkness, and knew better than to exhaust myself in 
the attempt. M\ only recourse seemed to be in seeking 
a large boulder or ledge under the lee of which I might 
keep from freezing till daylight. 
I could discern, not far off, what seemed the head of 
a stream, a ravine, or gorge, on the side of the moun- 
tain. Here, I thought, would be the most likely place 
to find such shelter, woodcraft having taught me that 
the wearing of the spring torrents down such gorges 
for ages, would leave the rocks in view. I commenced 
the descent, followed by my hound, who was just re- 
turned. Down I went with rapid strides, paydng more 
attention to seeking a shelter than in picking my way, 
and, as a consequence, was often precipitated a long 
ways, measuring ray length, face downward, and once, 
having fallen head first in the soft-wood timber where 
the snow was soft, and my snow-shoes being fast in the 
brush, I was forced to unlace them ere I could regain 
my perpendicular. At this distant day I recall my 
mirth at my ludicrous mishap, and my pleasure that no 
one witnessed it, for be it known, no snow-shoer wants 
it known that he ever falls. O, no! 
In this tumbling “ slip-shod ” style I proceeded per- 
haps half a mile, when I came into a logging road on 
the border of the brook. H.re was comparatively good 
traveling, and I took off my snow-shoes and starte I 
upon a run, feei ng sure I should soon come to a human 
habitation. 
In a few moments my hopes were realized by seeing a 
light ahinning forth from a house in a small clearing at 
