68 
WILD NORWAY. 
typical, as we tried to explain, of her sweet little self, a 
true jlos camjpi liliumque convallium. 
That morning we ■ found to our chagrin that the 
river had fallen full six inches during the night. The 
wind, moreover, was north, with heavy mist hanging on 
the hills. Skud meget slem = “ mist very bad,” augured 
Lars; yet, casting from the stage at Gravelset, W. 
hooked and I gaffed a nice 8J- pounder, and we got 
another fish at night. 
II. Spring-Fishing in Etnedal. 
Day by day we arose only to find our river lower 
and yet more low. The preceding winter had been 
unusually mild in Norway, and the spring was early 
and warm. What little snow had fallen on the fjelds, 
by mid-May had already melted, leaving but scant 
patches scattered on their northern faces. Hence the 
blazing heat of midday no longer swelled the midnight 
stream, and not a drop of rain fell during our stay. 
Adverse climatic conditions we tried to counteract by 
extra hard work, sticking in at all hours, and fishing, 
day or night, whenever opportunity served. We had 
our reward, for not a single blank was recorded. We 
came very near it, but W. saved the game with a ten- 
pounder when close on midnight. 
The Etne is but a small stream and very short, its 
total course being under six miles to the Storfos, a 
sheer waterfall which no salmon can surmount, and 
beyond which the river opens out into a series of lakes 
extending seven or eight miles to the foot of the fjelds 
which encircle its basin and form the watershed. 
