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WILD NORWAY. 
CHAPTER XII. 
AUTUMN IN NORWAY. 
I. The Sequence of Seasons. 
The northern summer is over; the long days when 
a delicious twilight melts into dawn, are a memory for 
another year. They are replaced by normal hours of 
light and darkness. The last lingering patches of snow 
have long disappeared from the crests of the fjeld, and 
for nearly a month the rivers have run at lowest 
summer-level. Not a salmon has been taken for a 
fortnight; you can see the fish lying red and lethargic in 
crystal depths, whence no lure (save perhaps the prawn) 
will entice them; while the big sea-trout, that in July 
afforded such abundant sport, now run daily smaller, 
till they scarce average a pound apiece. The angling 
season, in short, has gone by. The rod may be laid 
aside and reliance again transferred to gun and rifle. 
Already the harvest is in full swing; all over the 
steep hill-slopes are minute, unfenced corn-fields, and 
the oat-sheaves hang in golden groups from poles, 
drying and ripening in the sunshine — or rain— 
according to the curious custom of the country; one 
seldom sees the grain gathered into “ stooks,” save 
on the flatter lands towards the coast. The second 
crop of hay is also won in August and September— 
