ce of timber by the river's
brink, and R---- watched his successful fellow-angler. P----'s very soul
seemed to be diving about in the pool entirely unconscious of every
earthly thing but salmon.

"By Jove! there's another bite," exclaimed R----, as P----'s reel spread
the tidings with the tongue of a Dutch alarum clock. After a little
play, the salmon ceased to live in the Toptdal River.

"I can't tell how he manages," said R----, in a sort of soliloquy. "I
don't get a rise in two days. My flies must be bad; or, I think, P----
always takes the best place." And R---- pulled his fly-book from his
pouch, and began to examine the flies attentively, one by one, from the
largest to the smallest.

"Your flies are very good," I observed; "but you have not application.
Look at P----; he is part of that rock, apathetic to every idea of life,
but the idea that he sees his fly."

"A great deal of it is luck," answered R----; "but let us go to
breakfast. I am preciously thirsty; I must swill something."

We both rose, and walked towards the cottage. The sun had now risen
above the tops of the mountains, and shone brightly in the very centre
of the valley through which the Toptdal River wound. Not a cloud spotted
the sky, and the declining languid motion of the atmosphere gave token
of a torrid noon. Entering into jocular conversation with our
Anglo-Norwegian friend, who was bustling about the cottage on our
behalf, we became so intimate and open-hearted, that R---- begged him to
partake of breakfast if he had not eaten his own; and seating himself in
the third vacant chair, the Norwegian did as much justice to our
hospitality, as the hungry steer does to clover. Time wore on, for the
shade of the tall trees became short and shorter; and when our little
stout Northern guest went from under the cottage roof, to give some
orders to a labourer, I observed that the huge flaps of his felt hat
sheltered his round projecting van and bulbous flank, and, that, to the
contemplative man with downcast eye, his whole frame, fat though it
were, would appear quashed into a circular shadow moving along the
ground.

After breakfast, R---- lit his pipe, and the Norwegian made a quid both
round and opaque, and bowing to us, stuffed it into his mouth. Its
proper arrangement with his tongue kept him silent for a second, and in
that second, we heard the prolonged, faint call of a man in distress;
but it was so indistinct, that the gentle rustling o