ntirety
for a holiday; and the best I can do is to catch the steamer on
Saturday night, August 19. Salmon, so late as this, are not always to
be reckoned upon, and the best part of the sea trout run might be over
before I reach my destination. Certain data with the talisman
"Brevkort Gra Norge" had come to hand during that tropical fortnight
under which London experienced a wondrous spell of melting moments.
They were cheery messages of good sport and rosy prospects upon the
salmon and sea trout rivers of Norway, all sound material for hopeful
musing in the pleasant run from Hull to the Norwegian coast.

The visit on which I invite the reader to share my introduction to the
country was very memorable. Five days to reach your fishing ground, as
I said before, represent a fair price, in labour and time, for, at the
outside, ten clear fishing days. We leave Hull at ten o'clock on
Saturday night. After a sweltering day the sky is wonderfully
brilliant with stars, the air undisturbed by even the faintest zephyr.
The minutest of the myriad lights that glow where there are wharves and
shipping are abnormally clear: and the dingy docks, in that atmosphere,
under the lamps of the streets and houses, give somewhat Venetian
effects. Outside is a summer sea, and the whole passage, in a ship
which, if not large, is wholesome and comfortable, and officered by
people who are never weary of ministering to your wishes, is pleasant.

On Monday morning at breakfast time you are passing through the three
hundred and odd rocks, each having its own name, bestudding the
entrance to Stavanger. Two hours' discharge of cargo gives the
opportunity of running ashore, laying in a stock of Norwegian coins,
and seeing the cathedral and the few other sights of the place. In the
afternoon, when the Domino is fairly on her northern course, and when
the fiord landscapes should be a delight, we are in a gale, with
incessant rain. At eleven o'clock on Monday night we quietly come
alongside at the Bergen wharfage, but the rain keeps on. At eight on
Tuesday morning we are on board one of the smaller type of fiord
steamers, with three rod boxes amongst the luggage, some battens piled
on deck, and a moderate complement of passengers.

Here, then, is our introduction to famous Norway, which seems not to be
in too kindly a mood. After the heat of London the gale blows very
cold, and the rain seems too effectually iced. The weather is, it
seems, ph