ss of supplying the hotels with fish. He was quite willing to give
permission to an angler; and I engaged one of his sons, a capital young
fellow, whose natural capacities for good fellowship were only hampered
by a most extraordinary German dialect, to row me across the lake, and
carry the net and a small green barrel full of water to keep the fish
alive, according to the custom of the country. The first day we had only
four trout large enough to put into the barrel; the next day I think
there were six; the third day, I remember very well, there were ten.
They were pretty creatures, weighing from half a pound to a pound each,
and coloured as daintily as bits of French silk, in silver gray with
faint pink spots.

There was plenty to do at Hallstatt in the mornings. An hour's walk from
the town there was a fine waterfall, three hundred feet high. On the
side of the mountain above the lake was one of the salt-mines for which
the region is celebrated. It has been worked for ages by many successive
races, from the Celt downward. Perhaps even the men of the Stone Age
knew of it, and came hither for seasoning to make the flesh of the
cave-bear and the mammoth more palatable. Modern pilgrims are permitted
to explore the long, wet, glittering galleries with a guide, and slide
down the smooth wooden rollers which join the different levels of
the mines. This pastime has the same fascination as sliding down the
balusters; and it is said that even queens and princesses have
been delighted with it. This is a touching proof of the fundamental
simplicity and unity of our human nature.

But by far the best excursion from Hallstatt was an all-day trip to the
Zwieselalp--a mountain which seems to have been especially created as a
point of view. From the bare summit you look right into the face of the
huge, snowy Dachstein, with the wild lake of Gosau gleaming at its foot;
and far away on the other side your vision ranges over a confusion of
mountains, with all the white peaks of the Tyrol stretched along the
horizon. Such a wide outlook as this helps the fisherman to enjoy the
narrow beauties of his little rivers. No sport is at its best without
interruption and contrast. To appreciate wading, one ought to climb a
little on odd days.

Isehl is about ten or twelve miles below Hallstatt, in the valley of the
Traun. It is the fashionable summer-resort of Austria. I found it in the
high tide of amusement. The shady esplanade along the rive