us. It was now a novel race, being the first time I ever tried the speed of a horse against steam. Horse-flesh was victorious; for the dogs were madly running, and the huntsman knowing every inch of the ground, we gave the horses head.

Unfortunately for reynard he was headed by some footmen, and hindered entering Eastham wood, where he could have earthed, leaving his baffled foes to gnash their teeth and wag their sterns. He therefore turned short and made direct for Hooton: the pack were now almost at his tail; he was viewed and reviewed, now screened by a thick hedge, now by a deep ditch, and now by a small plantation. It was a desperate struggle for life: his pursuers already anticipated victory; a few fields more, and he would have been safe in the paternal mansion; but in running along the sands his own sand had run out, his thread of life was spun; and one of the sisters metamorphosing herself into a Dido or Diana, and changing her scissors into teeth, had already opened them, prepared to cut short the thread. He was a gallant fox. Sed moriendum est omnibus," as I once read over a dyer's shop in Nottingham. He was creeping up a ditch over which he was no longer able to bound, when Diana


"The devil's in the moon for mischief-'

pulled him back by the tail; for he had scouted the advice of his ancestor, who suggested the propriety of all imitating his example, and going tailless. He was seized across the loins by another dog, and in two minutes there was a portion of his carcase in the mouths of the forty thieves. Thus died reynard in the prime of life, like another Actæon, torn to pieces by dogs, through the connivance of Diana.

His descendants still retain possession of the ancient holes and woods and forests; and they seem likely to retain their birth-right, unless forced to quit by that annihilator of time and space-steam.

"Sic transit gloria, Monday."




That enterprising sportsman, Mr. Lloyd, the talented author of "Field Sports of the North of Europe," was the first writer who, by his graphic and exciting descriptions of the fun to be met with in the cheerless clime of Norway, awakened a desire in the mind of the enthusiastic sportsman to follow in his footsteps. Although Mr. Lloyd's onslaughts and encounters with Scandinavian bears may have deterred the less adventurous from incurring the risk of a friendly or deathly (as the case may be) hug from Bruin, still a wide field is


open to the sportsman of less moderate pretensions; and to the salmon-fisher the Norwegian rivers hold out inducements perfectly irresistible, if he be an amateur without incumbrances, and if he be free to wander where he listeth.

Of salmon-fishing in Norway it behoves us more immediately to speak, seeing that it is our intention on the [present occasion to point out to the piscatorial reader the almost incredible sport to be met with on the banks of these prolific waters.

Independently of the number of fish which the veriest tyro in flyfishing cannot help catching, the scenery and the novel nature of the country present attractions to the tourist which should not be lost sight of. We wish we could speak from experience in holding out inducements to our brother fishermen to wet a line in the Norwegian rivers; but it shall go hard, however, if we do not go on a tour of inspection ere we are much older. The trip is one which presents attractions of the highest order; and those of our friends who have been undismayed by fabulous and exaggerated accounts of a dearth of provisions, dirt, discomfort, bad roads and worse means of conveyance, have returned delighted with their journey, and spoken in rapturous terms of the sport they enjoyed, the hospitality and kindness of the natives, the beauty of the scenery, and the resources of the country.

We have been favoured, through the kind intervention of Mr. Jones, the fishing-tackle maker of Jermyn-street, with a few notes and memoranda of a celebrated brother of the angle, who returned last year from the scene of his triumph, and with his blushing honours thick upon him. This gentleman, who is a sportsman, dans toute la force du terme, intends revisiting Norway in the course of the present month (we are writing in May), and he anticipates not only glorious sport, but a very pleasant time of it into the bargain. Mr. Jones has shown us some of the flies used last spring, and they give token of having seen service. That they did execution has been proved beyond a doubt. We will not do him the injustice to describe the flies made to tickle the palates of the Norway salmon. The reader can satisfy himself on this point by calling in Jermynstreet, where our friend, we doubt not, will show the infallible butchers which have committed such slaughter amongst the kingly fish. Without even hinting at the various hues of the skilfully dyed pigs'-down, or the bright colours of the costly feathers which are wrought together by the masterly hand of Mr. Jones's Hibernian artist-than whom a neater or more experienced workman is not to be found within the bills of mortality-we may permit ourself to remark, without fear of diminishing his receipts, that the flies suited to the Norway rivers are large in size and gaudy in appearance. This is all the information we can, or rather will, afford. Therefore all and every one who have a spice of ambition and laudable curiosity in their composition, we would, in all sincerity, advise to take the trouble of calling at No. 101, Jermyn-street, where they will find an angler ready and willing to enlighten them on every point connected with the salmon-fishing in Norway; and moreover he will show them such a stock of flies as will not only call forth their unqualified admiration, but excite astonishment as well. Two

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friends of ours are going over in the course of a few days, and they purpose taking the same line of country as the one selected last year by the gentleman we have alluded to, whose astonishing success with his rod throws into the shade, if it do not entirely eclipse, any performances in the Scotch, Irish, or English rivers. Having been furnished with some authentic as well as useful information on this (to us) interesting subject, we feel great pleasure in making the reader as wise as ourself, in the sincere hope that he may benefit by the few hints we are enabled to give.

The three principal rivers that have been mentioned to us are the Namsen, the Guul, and the Alten. Of these the first has been more resorted to by our roving countrymen than the other two. We are told that a considerable portion of this water is engaged, in consequence of a party of Waltonians having met with extraordinary sport the year before last. Of the Alten, however, we can only speak from hearsay; but of the rivers Guul and Namsen we have documentary proof before us, in the shape of a journal, that the salmon in these rivers are as plentiful as blackberries on a Devonshire hedge. The route to these rivers of promise is as follows:-Take the steam-boat from London to Hamburgh, and having visited the wonders and seen the lions of this thriving commercial city, proceed by railway to that depôt for salt butter-Kiel. Leaving the firkins behind him, the traveller will then steam it to Copenhagen: here he will do well to halt for a day or two, for there is much to be seen within and without the walls of this oft-besieged town, where Nelson left his mark. The city of Copenhagen explored, the tourist must again proceed by steam to Christiania, where he will find any kind of conveyance to bump him, after the fashion of the ancients, at a sober jog-trot pace, over roads which might be improved by a visit from Mr. M'Adam, to Frondheim, the goal of promise this being the nearest town to the river Guul.

Between Christiania and Frondheim there are many little posttowns and villages: these are, unfortunately for the traveller's comfort, not equi-distant, so that some management as to time of starting and arriving is necessary, to insure snug sleeping quarters for the night. The first day's journey will be to Garssoé, distant about five or six and forty English miles. Very tolerable accommodation will be found here the sleeping rooms clean and comfortable, and the fare plain, but good of its kind. The second day's journey may be long or short, at the wayfarer's option, as there are two resting-places; and the night may be passed at either very satisfactorily, at least to those who do not mind roughing it en voyage. The first of these little townships is Vingnäs; the other Moshuns; both of which, as we have said, afford good quarters. On the third day Viig should be the resting-place. The fourth day will be found the most trying, for the journey is a long and wearisome one passing over Fockstuen to Ferkin, albeit very little butter is to be found there. At Ferkin, barring the lack of butter, accommodation of a very superior stamp will be found, as well as at Kongswold, the next stage, or rather, the termination of the fifth day's journey. At both these little towns the traveller will find luxuries he little dreamt of meeting with in so wild and desolate a country; and he will do well to lay in a goodly

store of creature comforts, both inwardly and outwardly, while at Ferkin or Kongswold; for at the intervening post-houses, Birkager and Garlic, he may perchance obtain refreshment, such as is promised on the sign-boards of roadside inns at home, under the announcement of "Entertainment for man and horse;" but in what the said "entertainment consists, we confess to have been puzzled from our youth upward until now. The sixth day, which will include a halt at these two last-named places, will bring the salmonfisher to Frondheim, within a short distance of the goal of his wishes -the beautiful river Guul. Here it was that Mr. Hornden, an enthusiastic and practised trout and salmon-fisher, took up his quarters this time last year: and before we proceed to describe the Alten, and the magnificent copper-works on its banks, we will, for the reader's edification, recount a feat performed by this gentleman, which from its daring and the success which attended his bold attempt, deserves a notch on the butt of every fisherman's rod, and to be chronicled in the annals of piscatorial skill and enterprise as a matchless performance. At the foot of a slight, and in a pool most romantically situated, with high banks of granite on one side of the river Guul, and a dark over-hanging wood of pine, firs, and larch on the other, Mr. Hornden hooked a remarkably fine salmon, which soon gave him a taste of its quality by running out every inch of his line. What was to be done? the fish, a tremendously heavy one, was pulling vigorously, and making down stream towards some rapids. Mr. Hornden waded into the water; but his courage was not cooled by the immersion of his extremities. With the rod uplifted in his left hand, he made a plunge for it, while with his right he gradually swam to a shelving bank on the opposite side, some hundred-and-fifty or two hundred yards below the spot where the struggle first commenced. Nought was seen but the supple and well-poised rod, and a white Jim-Crow hat peering above the flowing water; but an experienced hand was beneath the surface. A sure footing once obtained, the odds became fearfully against the salmon, who fought bravely against his skilful and wary antagonist. As each yard of the line was wound on the reel, the chance of escape for the fish diminished. He turns; he rushes up stream: wildly and madly he darts to and fro; but at each attempt distance between the angler and himself is lessened. No chance has the noble salmon of disengaging the well-tempered hook from the firm hold it has taken in his gullet, by grinding the line against a projecting stone. As a last expiring effort the kingly fish makes for the bottom; but a steady strain defeats his purpose, and being drawn with an equable pull down the stream towards a shallow, the prize is exposed to the view of the exulting captor, who in masterly style exhausts his prey, which he gaffs and lands after a tustle of nearly an hour's duration. The weight of this leviathan was a trifle under eight-and-forty pounds.

This is one of many incidents that have occurred on the banks of the magnificent river Guul; and from the accounts with which we have been furnished, the sport must be marvellously good. But all the Norwegian streams abound in salmon; while their tributaries absolutely swarm with trout.

The Namsen, of which report speaks most favourably, is reached

by nearly the same route; but it is nearer Christiania than the Guul, which circumstance may with some be considered an advantage: although we should prefer the latter for the reason that fewer visitors have approached it. The nearest post-town to the Namsen, and from which the necessaries of life can be procured, is Kjobstad. This is a little posting village which has only recently been built, and it is situated at the mouth of the river itself. The Alten is in Finnmarken-a Norwegian district; and from the accounts which have been related to us, we should say that this is the river par excellence. There is a very extensive establishment on its banks. The principal copper-works of the country are carried on here; and strange to say, by our countrymen, as there are no less than from twelve to fifteen hundred Englishmen employed there, under the direction and management of a Mr. S. H. Thomas, who is the head man or captain, as he is termed, of this valuable property. He is assisted by a Mr. Tetlitz, a native; and a resident surgeon, a Dr. Berg, a Norwegian by birth, is on the spot to afford professional aid in case of need. Mr. Thomas and Messrs. Tetlitz and Berg are no mean proficients in the gentle art; for if we may judge by an extensive order they have sent Mr. Jones for rods, tackle, flies, and materials for making them, we should say that a more judicious and scientific selection could not have been made. As may well be imagined where twelve or fifteen hundred Englishmen are collected, there is plenty to eat. Provisions of every kind are to be had at the Alten-Kopper works (for the worthy Norwegians always spell copper with a K). The arduous duties entailed upon Mr. Thomas prevent his leaving his seat of government so frequently as he might wish to do. Still, when his presence is not absolutely required at the station, he steals an hour or two from servitude, and enjoys a little recreation, rod in hand, while indulging in his favourite pastime. The nature of the duties devolving on Mr. Tetlitz and Dr. Berg admits of greater relaxation; and the worthy disciple of Esculapius is too great an enthusiast in the gentle art not to keep his little hospital, adjacent to the works, free of ailing inmates, as the month of June approaches; and if report speak truly (but mind, we do not vouch for the local scandal), the entire establishment is put under a course of medicine early in the spring-by way of "prevention," we presume. Be this as it may, calumny or not, there is one remarkable annual occurrence worthy of note, which not one of the twelve hundred expatriated workmen will have the hardihood to question, and which is the undeniable fact, that, barring any unforeseen accident, such as a broken limb or a wound from the machinery, not a single patient's name is to be found on the doctor's list, from the 30th of June to the 1st of September. How the interesting interval is passed by the piscatorial leech, we must leave our readers to determine; although it has been whispered that more salmon are consumed at the joint mess of the three jolly anglers who dwell at the copper-mines, during the two months of July and August, than at any other period of the year. This worthy triumvirate, Messrs. Thomas, Tetlitz, and Dr. Berg, were joined the year before last by a gentleman of the name of Brettle. We regret that he is not at present on the list of our acquaintances; but we unfeignedly trust we may ere long have the

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