Rauma River Boat.

Having paid especial notice to the Trols, we must turn to the Horn, which rises on the left side: 4,000 feet is the height of it, and it goes sheer up out of the valley; in fact, one morning, as we were sitting by the river, a carriole came hurrying by, and a voice from it inquired, “Where’s the Horn?” The old fisherman with me stared at the flying folk in search of information, and pointed straight up over our heads. The summit has never been reached yet, either by the Government engineers who surveyed the country, or by Alpine men, who have all given up the Aiguille Dru as hopeless, or by captive balloon, which has been proposed. A very likely party from a yacht made a bold attempt at it, but even some of these looked upon it as a hopeless case, from the fact that there is a lean-to on a huge shoulder on the north-west side. Perhaps the most beautiful time of all to see this wild valley is after the first sprinkling of snow, when the tops are powdered, which happens when the “iron days” come, the first snow falling about August 20th. After a little sharp frost the weather recovers from its first shudder, but by the 29th of September all is snow again down to the river. Patches of old snow are always lying in the valley, even during the hottest summer, but much more in the couloir; and, from the immense scale of everything here, the real quantity is most difficult to appreciate.

Romsdal Snow.

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At the foot of this Romsdal Horn is the Rauma itself, the first fall caused by the rocks thrown down when the couloir was originally formed; and between the river and the base of the Horn runs the road through the valley to Gudbransdalen. There are a few sheep here in the advanced farms, and these, like all animals in Norge, are wonderfully docile. For some time we heard sounds of music at a distance, but could never discover either the music or the musician, until one day a boy was found playing in a barn, or laave, on a goat’s horn with six holes in it, and with a reed mouthpiece. The sound is quaint. This instrument was intended and used for the amusement of the sheep, and the boy’s mission was to play to them on it. The sheep and goats here always follow instead of being driven; and, like all other animals in this country, they are remarkably tame, never exhibiting the least signs of fear. This is another pleasant feature resulting from the kindliness of the people and their domestic happiness. Long may both remain to them!

•••••

The sight of the square-sailed craft with one mast and a bold rampant black stem at once shuts out all intrusive thoughts of civilisation, for these same vessels—relics of very old days—are seldom seen anywhere save on the wild shores of Heligoland, working down to Bergen, or still farther south round by the coast, and up to the town of Christiania. These craft are mostly from the north of Trondhjem: their lines are very fine indeed forward, the after part, with quarter-deck, forming a kind of citadel for the captain. As these vessels come from the coast opposite to the Lofoden, they are closely allied with the fishery of that district—the great national fishing ground of Norway, to which rushes every able-bodied fisherman from Bergen northwards as far as the North Cape. In the month of February the fish are in force—principally early arrivals; and ultimately such immense quantities are gathered together that tradition has handed down to us as a fact that there are times when a deep-sea line will hardly sink through them. Lines and nets are both worked with the greatest system. The take is generally tremendous, and the results lucrative. The fish are cured as stock-fish until April, when they are split, salted, and dried on the rocks like Scotch cod. It is a simple process to gut and hang up these cod-fish two and two across poles; not even salt is used—nothing but the sea breezes, sun, and wind. Many years ago the takes were even more enormous than at present, amounting to as much as 16,000,000 fish, or 8,000 tons dried, to say nothing of the cod-liver oil and roe; but when we consider that these fish are gradually dispersed over Europe, even 8,000 tons would soon go during the period of a continental Lent. About April most of the fishers return home, and are ready for any chance of herrings, which are as great a blessing to the Norwegians as to the Scotch and Irish.