and, like Scotland and Ireland in a lesser degree,
was not overrun. In those days only the rich could afford the time and
money which travel and sport without railways demanded. The railways
came, and with them a wonderful transformation of the world's habit and
custom. The growth of the Press in journalism and literature ranged
abreast of improved facilities for going afar, and the choice preserves
of the angler were, all in the order of things, invaded.

Part of the fascination of Norway to the angler fifty years ago was the
cheapness of it. The man who talked to his friends of "my river in
Norway" paid but a few pounds a year for it; as the native farmer had
not yet been exploited, he retained the simple notions of his class,
and was mostly amused that the Englishman should take such trouble
about the salmon, which were of such small account to him. It is
common knowledge that this desirable state of things is past history,
and there is no need to waste words, or pipe laments, or (to descend to
homely metaphor) cry over spilt milk.

The change came home to me on deck one night in the North Sea with
striking insistence. We were returning from fishing in Norway, and no
one, after a particularly bad season of "no water," seemed inclined to
be enthusiastic about the fascination of Norway; one sorrowful
gentleman, however, told me in hushed tones that his seven weeks on a
hired river had cost him 300 pounds, and for that and all his skill and
toil he had been rewarded with two salmon, three grilse, and one sea
trout. That, of course, was the extreme of ill-fortune, and might
occur to anyone anywhere. The truth is there are still fine chances
for salmon in Norway, and excellent chances for trout if you have the
gift of searching for rivers and lakes in remote districts. The
fascinations of the characteristic scenery, the comparatively unspoiled
people, and the rich legendary past remain.

It is quite possible that the distance between Great Britain and Norway
is somewhat in the direction of fascination. If you go there for a
fishing holiday you are entitled to talk about seafaring matters. It
is not a mere crossing; it is a voyage, and I have known men get a
F.R.G.S. on the strength of it. On my first visit it did strike me on
my return that five days to reach your river and five to return, was
paying a fair price, apart from the fares (which were indeed reasonable
enough), for ten days' clear fishing, and I