SUMMER RAMBLES ON THE SURENDAL FJELDS. 129 
On the morning of July 3rd we turned out at five, 
and, leaving a kroner on the table in payment for the 
wood we had burned, went down to the lake to wash, 
etc. A bitter east wind was blowing, developing later 
into bright, breathless sunshine, with a degree of warmth 
that was decidedly “ grateful and comforting,” but which 
prevented our getting any trout for breakfast, that 
meal consisting of biscuits with whisky-and-water. 
Here, again, we were disappointed in being unable to 
discover any sign of a boat, which we had been told 
existed somewhere on the lake, and though along the 
shore we observed many interesting birds, including 
most of those already mentioned, besides rough-legged 
buzzard, merlin, two pintail drakes, with other ducks 
and divers, yet our main object was frustrated. In 
almost the last little bay we reached, before finally 
turning our faces homeward, with a rough twenty-mile 
tramp in prospect, we discovered a new and interesting 
bird. I was watching through the binoculars the morn¬ 
ing toilet of a beautiful black-throated diver about a 
hundred yards away, enjoying the spectacle of the wholly 
unsuspicious bird as he now rolled over on one side, 
displaying half his snow-white breast while he daintily 
arranged his nether plumes, anon sitting bolt upright 
to shake the drops from his speckled wings, and piping 
out his weird, wailing cry. Presently from behind a 
tiny rock-islet (on which a gull sat close on her nest) 
emerged a beautiful adult drake of the velvet scoter, 
his sheeny purple-black plumage and orange neb very 
conspicuous in the early sunlight. For some minutes 
he busied himself with ablutions after the manner of 
his kind, sometimes diving completely under, at others 
