between them. Thus every family, reduced to its own resources, forms as it were a small commonwealth, which has but little to do with the external world, and is obliged to rely for its happiness on internal harmony, and a moderate competency. Strangers seldom invade their solitude, for they are far from the ordinary tracks of the tourist, and yet a journey from Drontheim to Hammerfest and the North Cape affords many objects of interest well worthy of a visit. The only mode of communication is by sea, for the land is everywhere intersected by deep fjords, bounded by one continuous chain of precipitous cliffs and rocks, varying from one thousand to four thousand feet in height. Formerly, even the sea-voyage was attended with considerable difficulties, for the miserable "yoegt," or Scandinavian sloop, the only means of conveyance at the disposal of the traveller, required at the best of times at least a month to perform the voyage from Drontheim to Hammerfest, and in case of stormy weather, or contrary wind, had often to wait for weeks in some intermediate port. Now, however, a steamer leaves the port of Drontheim every week, and conveys the traveller in five or six days to the remote northern terminus of his journey.

Innumerable isles of every size, from a few yards in diameter to as many miles, stud the line of coast, and between these and the mainland the steamer ploughs its way. Sometimes the channel is as narrow as the bed of a river, at others it expands into a mighty lake, and the ever-varying forms of the isles, of the fjords, and of the mountains, constantly open new and magnificent prospects. to the view. One grand colossal picture follows upon another, but unfortunately few or none show the presence of man. From time to time only some fishing-boat makes its appearance on the sea, or some wooden farm-house rises

on the solitary beach. On advancing farther to the north, the aspect of nature becomes more and more stern, vegetation diminishes, man is more rarely seen, and the traveller feels as if he were on the point of entering the gloomy regions of perpetual death.

With the sole exception of Archangel, Drontheim is the most populous and important town situated in so high a latitude as 63° 24'. Although the cradle of ancient Scandinavian history, and the residence of a long line of kings, it looks as if it had been built but yesterday, as its wooden houses have frequently been destroyed by fire. The choir of its magnificent cathedral, built in the eleventh century, and once the resort of innumerable pilgrims who came flocking to the shrine of St. Olave from all Scandinavia, is the only remaining memorial of the old Tronyem of the Norse annalists and scalds. The modern town has a most pleasing and agreeable appearance, and the lively colors with which the houses are painted harmonize with the prosperity of its inhabitants, which is due in a great measure to its thriving fisheries, and to the rich iron and copper mines in its neighborhood. The tall chimneys of many smelting-huts, iron foundries, and other manufactories, bear evidence that modern industry has found its way to the ancient capital of Norway. In point of picturesque beauty, the bay, on a peninsula of which the town is situated, does not yield to that of Naples. Up and down, in every direction, appear the villas of the merchant, and ships of all burden riding at anchor in the bay, and boats passing and repassing. In a small island of the bay, fronting the town, is the celebrated castle of Munkholm, where in former times many a prisoner of state has bewailed the loss of his liberty. Here, among others, Greiffenfeld, who had risen from obscurity to the rank of an all-powerful minister, was incarcerated for eighteen years (1680–98.) At Hildringen, where the potato is still cultivated with success, and barley ripens every four or five years, begins the province of Nordland, which extends from 65° to 69° 30′ N. lat. The mostly uninhabited isles along the coast are called "Holme," when rising like steep rocks out of the water, and "Väre " when flat and but little elevated above the level of the sea. The latter are the

breeding-places of numberless sea-fowls, whose eggs yield a welcome harvest to the inhabitants of the neighboring mainland or of the larger islands. A well-stocked egg-vär is a valuable addition to a farm, and descends from father to son, along with the pasture-grounds and the herds of the paternal land. When the proprietor comes to plunder the nests, the birds remain quiet, for they know by experience that only the superfluous eggs are to be removed. But not unfrequently strangers land, and leave not a single egg behind. Then all the birds, several thousands at once, rise from their nests and fill the air with their doleful cries. If such disasters occur repeatedly they lose courage, and, abandoning the scene of their misfortunes, retire to another vär. Most of these birds are sea-gulls (Maasfugl,

THE PUFFIN.

or Maage), their eggs are large, and of a not disagreeable taste. The island of Lovunnen is the favorite breeding-place of the puffin, which is highly esteemed on account of its feathers. This silly bird is very easily caught. The fowler lets down an iron hook, or sends a dog trained on purpose into the narrow clefts or holes of the rock, where the puffins sit crowded together. The first bird being pulled out, the next one bites and lays hold of his tail, and thus in succession, till the whole family, clinging together like a chain, is dragged to light.

This rocky coast is also much frequented by the sea-eagle, who is very much feared over the whole province, as he not only carries away lambs and other small animals, but even assails and not seldom overpowers the Norwegian oxen. His mode of attack is so singular that if Von Buch had not heard it so positively and so circumstantially related in various places, situated at great distances from each other, he would willingly have doubted its truth. The eagle darts down into the waves, and then rolls about with his wet plumage on the beach until his wings are quite covered with sand. Then he once more rises into the air and hovers over his intended victim. Swooping down close to him, he claps his wings, flings the sand into the eyes of the unfortunate brute, and thoroughly scares it by repeated blows of his pinions. The blinded ox rushes away to avoid the eagle's attacks, until he is completely exhausted or tumbles down some precipitous cliff.

The sea-coast from Alsten to Rodoë, which is crossed by the Arctic Circle, is particularly rich in herrings, as it furnishes more than one-half of the fish exported to Bergen.

In respect of the capital invested, the cod-fishery must be regarded as the most important of the Norwegian deep-sea fisheries, but in the number of hands employed, the herring-fishery takes precedence The number of men actually engaged in the latter is not less than 60,000, and considerably more than double that number are directly or indirectly interested in the result of their operations. The herrings taken in 1866 filled 750,000 barrels, each weighing 224 lbs., the largest catch ever taken on the Norwegian coast, at least in recent years. As the movements of the fish are extremely erratic, large shoals being found one year in a part of the coast where none will be seen the year following, the fishermen are forced to move from place to place, and formerly the herrings frequently escaped altogether for want of hands to capture them. Now this difficulty is in a great measure removed. Telegraph stations are erected at different places on the coast, from which the movements of the shoals are carefully watched; and field telegraphs are kept in readiness to be joined on to the main line, so as to summon the fishermen from every part of the country on the first appearance of the fish at any new point. The best time for the herring-fishery is from January to March, and in 1866, 200,000 barrels, or more than one-fourth of the total catch, were caught between February 11th and 14th.

At the northern extremity of the province of Nordland, between 68° and 69° N. lat., are situated the Lofoten Islands, or Vesteraalen Oerne, which are separated from the mainland by the Vestfjord. This broad arm of the sea is

remarkable both for its violent currents and whirlpools, among which the Maelstrom has attained a world-wide celebrity, and also from its being the most northerly limit where the oyster has been found. But it is chiefly as the resort of the cod that the Vestfjord is of the highest importance, not only to Nordland, but to the whole of Norway. No less than 6000 boats from all parts of the coast, manned probably by more than half of the whole adult male population of Nordland, annually assemble at Vaage, on the island of Ost Vaagoe, and besides these, more than 300 yoegts, or larger fishing-sloops, from Bergen, Christiansand, and Molde, appear upon the scene. The banks of Newfoundland hardly occupy more hands than the fishing-grounds of the Vestfjord, which, after the lapse of a thousand years, continue as prolific as ever;* nor is there an instance known of its having ever disappointed the fisherman's hopes. In Harold Haarfagr's times, Vaage was already renowned for its fisheries, and several yarls had settled in this northern district, to reap the rich harvest of the seas. At a later period, under the reign of Saint Olave (1020), the annual Parliament of Nordland was held at Vaage, and, in 1120, the benevolent King Eystein, brother of Sigurd the Crusader, caused a church to be erected here in honor of his saintly predecessor, along with a number of huts, to serve as a shelter to the poor fishermen, a deed which he himself prized more highly than all his chivalrous brother's warlike exploits in the East, for "these men," said he, "will still remember in distant times that a King Eystein once lived in Norway."

The reason why the fish never cease visiting this part of the coast is that, the Lofoten Isles inclose, as it were, an inland or mediterranean sea, which only communicates with the ocean by several narrow channels between the islands, and where the fish find the necessary protection against stormy weather. They assemble on three or four banks well known to the fishermen, seldom arriving before the middle of January, and rarely later than towards the end of February. They remain in the sheltered fjord no longer than is necessary for spawning, and in April have all retired to the deeper waters, so that the whole of the fishing season does not last longer than a couple of months. The fish are either caught by hooks and lines, or more frequently in large nets about twenty fathoms long and seven or eight feet broad, buoyed with pieces of light wood, and lested with stones, so as to maintain a vertical position when let down in the water. The fish, swimming with impetuous speed, darts into the meshes, which effectually bar his retreat. The nets are always spread in the evening, and hauled up in the morning; for as long as it is daylight, the fish sees and avoids them, even at a depth of sixty or eighty fathoms. A single haul of the net frequently fills half the boat, and the heavy fish would undoubtedly tear the meshes if they were not immediately struck with iron hooks, and flung into the boat as soon as they are dragged to the surface.

Claus Niels Sliningen, a merchant of Borgund, first introduced the use of these nets in the year 1685, an innovation which more than doubled the total

* In 1866 the total catch of cod was 21,000,000, about 12,000,000 of which were salted (clip fish), and the remainder dried (stock-fish); each fish making on an average 2 lbs. of clip-fish, and one-fourth less of stock-fish.

produce of the fisheries. But (as with all useful inventions) loud complaints were raised against him in Norway, and as late as 1762 no nets were allowed at Drontheim, "to prevent the ruin of the poor people who had not the capital to provide themselves with them."

The life of a fisherman is everywhere full of privations and dangers, but nowhere more so than at the Lofoten Islands. Here, after toiling on the stormy sea for many hours, he has nothing but the miserable shelter of a damp, filthy, over-crowded hut, which affords him neither the rest nor the warmth needed after his fatiguing day's work. Even the iron-framed sons of the North are frequently unable to resist such continuous hardships, and bring home with them the seeds of contagion and death. Malignant fevers have frequently decimated the population of Norway, and their origin may generally be traced to

the fishing-grounds. "The Arab and the Persian," says Leopold von Buch, "build caravanseras for the wayfarers through the desert; the inhabitants of the Alps have founded 'hospices' on the summits of the mountain passes; and the Norwegian has erected houses of refuge on Dovrefjeld, but none for the fishermen of Lofoten. Near Rodoë there is a large hospital for the sick of Nordland; would it not be as well to build houses in Lofoten, so as not to crowd the hospitals and churchyards?" This was written at the beginning of the present century, but the poor fishermen are still as neglected as ever, for a more recent traveller, Marmier, beheld with pity the wretched huts in which they spend three winter months far from their families.

In the channel between Hvalö and the mainland lies, in 69° 45' N. lat., the