SALMON-FISHING IN SURENDAL. 95 
rock. The farther bank and the river-bed beneath are 
strewn in Nedre Baksnyden with blocks of rock and 
boulders, many of which are thrown in by the riparian 
owners to protect their land from the stream. Hence 
the catastrophe. I could not, on reflection, reproach 
myself with any known mistake or want of care; no 
jerk or jar to my knowledge had occurred. Possibly 
I had been too severe at first on a fish of such weight 
and power; but it was decidedly hard lines that I 
should have had my one chance with such a monster 
almost as an initial experience with big fish. 
We finished the pool in silence—almost mechanically; 
and returned homewards with heavy hearts, while the 
peasant lads and lassies of the hamlet were dancing 
al fresco to the music of a fiddle at midnight. 
III. Summer on the Surna. 
The following further notes, selected from my diary, 
serve to illustrate the incidents of sport, and of a fisher¬ 
man’s life in a Norwegian valley. 
Midsummer day—a misty morning, but dry. Close 
to foot of Galten pool, I had just remarked to Ivar, “ In 
five yards more he comes ! ” when come he did, and was 
firm hooked on spoon. After clearing the lines, put on 
steam; fish responded with a rush, when, at about fifty 
yards, the reel stopped dead—the line having buckled— 
and not another inch would run. The jerk near 
wrenched the rod out of hand, and the strain of the 
sudden pull-up was terrible. Gear and hold, however, 
stood the shock, and we abandoned offensive operations, 
dropping the rod-top while we tried to clear the line. 
