g the herd onward, each having a branch of a tree
in hand, to whisk about, to urge the deer on. The girl had a great
coarse linen bag slung round her neck, and resting on her back. This she
filled with a particular kind of moss as she went along. I asked her
what she gathered it for, and she gave me to understand it was used in
milking the reins; but in what manner, was as yet to me a mystery. I
found both the girl and the youth very good-natured, and the eyes of the
latter especially sparkled with merry humor. They could speak only a
very few words of Norwegian, but understood some of my questions in that
language, and very readily answered them. They were driving the herd to
be milked, and on my telling them I was an Englishman, come from afar to
see them and their reins, they repeated the word "_Englesk_" several
times, in a tone of surprise, and regarded me with an interest and
curiosity somewhat akin to what the appearance of one of their people
would excite in an English city. Yet I must remark that, except in what
immediately concerns themselves, the emotions of all Laplanders, so far
as my opportunities of judging enable me to conclude, flow in a most
sluggish channel. I asked the girl to show me the moss the reins eat,
and she did so (after a little search), and gathered me some. It is very
short in summer, but long in winter. In Sweden, I learn that this most
admirable provision of nature for the sole support of the deer during
nine months in the year (and in consequence, the existence of the
Laplanders also depends on it) grows much more abundantly, and is of a
greater length; which is the reason most Laps prefer Swedish Lapmark for
their winter wanderings. Coming to a marshy spot where a particular
long, sharp, narrow grass grew, I plucked some, and asked the Laps if
they did not use that to put in their boots in lieu of stockings? They
instantly responded affirmatively. This is the celebrated bladder carex,
or cyperus grass (the _carex-vesicaria_ of Linnaeus). I gathered some,
and afterward found it in several parts of the Island of Tromso; but it
only grows in marshy spots. The Laps at all seasons stuff their boots
quite full of it, and it effectually saves their feet from being
frost-bitten.

Onward we went, driving the herd, in which I gleefully helped, the three
little dogs at times barking and fetching up stragglers. The Laps
occasionally gave a short cry or urging shout to the reins, and I burst
forth