among the people of using this receptacle in winter time as a kind of hot-air bath. The peasant, also, put it to another use. Not being the cleanliest people in the world, their bedclothes become at times densely inhabited. When the colony becomes overstocked, the clothes are brought hither, and a short spell of the infernal temperature proves too much for the small animals, as they are not blessed with the heatenduring capabilities of the cricket or salamander. In fact, the clothes become literally too hot to hold them, and they share the fate of Higginbottom.

This reminds me of an old tale concerning one Staale, of Aasheim, not very far from here. This man had murdered his brother about two hundred and fifty years ago. His life was spared on condition that he would rid the country of seven outlaws who harried the country and defied every attempt to take them. Staale, who was a daredevil villain, having discovered their retreat, went thither in rags, and showing them that he was a bird of similar plumage, proposed forgathering

with them. The robbers were charmed at the idea of such an accession to their number. Meanwhile, Staale complained that his rags were full of parasites, and at his request a huge kettle was hung over the fire for the purpose of boiling the creatures out. As soon as the water boiled Staale dashed the fluid into the faces of the robbers who lay asleep on the floor, not expecting so warm a reception. Thus reduced, for the moment at least, to a condition like that of that precious brigand, Polyphemus, they fell an easy prey to Staale, who dashed their brains out with a crow-bar. He was, however, near being overmastered by an old woman who ministered to the wants of the robbers, like the delicate Leonarda in Gil Blas, and had escaped the baptism that had been administered to the rest. After a hard struggle, however, he overcame the virago, and thus obtained his life and freedom, which had been forfeited for his misdeeds.

In the bad-hus were also suspended the winter

black bear-skin, with the fur leggings and gloves, also used to keep out the cold in driving. These articles are generally hung up in another part of the premises, the ammoniacal vapours of which are much disliked and avoided by moths and other fur-destroyers.

CHAPTER VIII.

Feculiar livery-Bleke-A hint to Lord BreadalbaneEnormous trout-Trap for timber logs-Exciting scene-Melancholy Jacques in Norway-The new church of Sannes-A clergyman's Midsummer-day dreamThings in general at Froisnaes-Pleasing intelligenceLuxurious magpies-A church without a congregationThe valley of the shadow of death-Mouse GrangeA tradition of Findal-Fable and feeling-A Highland costume in Norway-Ancestral pride-Grand old names prevalent in Saetersdal-Ropes made of the bark of the lime-tree Carraway shrub Government schools of agriculture-A case for a London magistrate-Trout fishing in the Högvand-Cribbed, cabined, and confined-A disappointment-The original outrigger-The cat-lynx-A wealthy Norwegian farmer -Bear-talk-The consequence of taking a drop too much-Story of a Thuss-Cattle conscious of the presence of the hill people-Fairy music.

TAKING leave with many thanks of my worthy host and the young lady who is presiding in the absence of his wife, both of whom had shown me no small kindness, I start by boat up the lake.

The priest has no less than fourteen Huusmaend (see Oxonian in Norway, p. 8), and one of them, Knut, undertakes to row me up to Froisnaes. His dress is that of the country. Trousers up to the neck-hole of grey wadmel, striped at the sides with a streak of black, and fastened with four buttons at the ankles-the button-holes worked with green worsted ending in red.

As usual, I killed two birds with one stoneadvancing northward, and catching trout at the same time. I had flies as well as a minnow trailing behind, and took fish with both, the biggest about a pound weight.

"That's not a trout; that's a Bleke," exclaimed Knut, as I hauled in a fish of about the same weight, but which pulled with a strength beyond his size. They are much fatter and of finer flavour than the trout. By subsequent experience I found Knut to be right. Such a fish at the Trois Frères would fetch its weight in silver. flesh was paler than that of the trout. Externally,

The