to starting. There were forty-two men in our company. We had to wait two days for a favorable wind, but it came on the morning of the 20th. Then, after a hurried meal, goodbyes were said, and we jumped into the boats. The partings were quite sad in some cases, because, no one knows what might happen before the fishers' return, and some may never come back at all.

We had a favorable wind, most of the distance. One day, the breeze failed us altogether, and then you should have seen us all at the oars. The whole fleet took part in the race. I never worked so hard in my life, but our boat was not in the lead when the wind caught us again. The weather was pleasant, so everybody said, though I don't call snow storms and hurricanes pleasant weather, especially when one is in an open boat on the sea. The days are very short now, and we could not travel very far each day; though, sometimes when the moon shone bright, we kept on our way all night. My, how sleepy I became!

We have in our boat Uncle Erik, Cousin Johan, a hired man, Jens by name, and myself. Some of the boats have four and a half men, and others have five-boys are counted as half-men-Uncle Erik does not count me that way, however.

On dark and stormy nights, we managed to anchor at some port where we could get shelter on land. One night, we were part of a company consisting of nearly one hundred men packed into a warehouse, much like herrings in a barrel. Most of us were wet when we landed, but the night was so cold that our clothing was frozen stiff in the morning— Grandmother's warm stockings came in handy.

Cousin John is a good fellow. He is not so rough and wild as many of the other fishermen. He assists me to understand this strange life, and the best way to overcome difficulties. I must tell you that I have visited at his home a number of times. He has a wife, my cousin Maria, and two children. They have such a cosy home.

When we arrived at this place, the houses which have been built here for the accommodation of the fishermen during the fishing season, were nearly snowed under; but, in a short time, we had paths shoveled and we moved into them. The first thing we did was to build a good fire in the stove, and open door and window that the dampness might be driven out. Then we had a cooked supper, after which we scrubbed the floor with snow. We have done very little fishing. The weather is quite rough, and, as the cod have not arrived in great numbers yet, we are not doing much.

February 7th.

Since writing last, we have done some fishing, and I will tell you

about it. This station has now some three hundred boats, and over a thousand men. The fish have come in great numbers, and you might imagine what a stir there is. There are many government regulations regarding the fishing, by which each fisher is to have an equal chance. One of these rules is that no boat must leave the harbor for the fishing grounds until the signal is given, which is done by the hoisting of a flag. But then you should see us! It is hardly daylight yet, but away we go, rowing as if for life. There are racing, challenging, laughing, singing, and, sometimes, swearing. The sea gulls fly in circles over the fleet, uttering their harsh cries. Daylight comes, and we are at length on the banks, or fishing grounds, which are at present quite a distance out. Then we set our lines. Each line contains about three thousand baited hooks. Two of us are at the oars, while one lets out the lines. When these are all set properly, we go to work hauling in the lines, which were set the day before. Two men haul in, one stands with a short, bent, steel spike fastened into a handle, and with it helps each big, shining cod into the boat. Another man counts the fish, and stores them in their proper place. Sometimes our lines get tangled with others, then we have a great time to pick out our fish from those of our neighbor's. This work requires all the daylight we have. If the wind is favorable, we can get to shore again about six o'clock; but, if we have to row, it sometimes takes us until nine or ten; but our day's work is not over yet. The fish must be disposed of, and our lines made ready for the next day. Some sell their fish, some hang them to dry, and sell only the livers, the eggs and the heads. It is often midnight before we get something to eat and then go to bed. Thus we labor day after day. We could not endure it long, were it not for the stormy days that occur two or three times a week, when we all remain on land to rest. We then sleep half the day, visit our neighbors, gossip, read the newspapers, sing songs, provide ourselves with food-and-and write long letters to young ladies at home.

February 20th.

Another stormy day. Uncle is sleeping, Johan is very much interested in politics, and is reading Bjornson's latest article, and Jens is off visiting. I am writing-isn't that news for you? In reading over what I last wrote, I see that it is about the life on the sea. You might also be interested in life on the shore.

Our house is located about a stone's throw from the water. To get into our living room, you would have to go into the entre and through an aisle, barrels of all kinds being stacked up on each side, with fish ines hanging from the roof. Once inside, you would see the rusty stove

near one wall; while against two others, the bunks or beds are built. By the window stands the table, and under it are three empty butter kegs the fourth I am sitting on. That is about all the furniture. When we get home at night, the first thing we do is to rid ourselves of our heavy fisher-boots, and put on our warm, dry, wooden shoes. Then we tumble into the bunks and rest a bit until supper is cooked. We always have fresh fish for supper. For dessert we have fish molje. With all your knowledge of cookery, you will not know what that is. At first I could not eat it, but now-well, I must describe it to you. You may wish to try it.

Fill a kettle about half full of broken fladbrod. Pour over it hot fish soup, and let it stand until the bread is well soaked. Then pour most of the soup off, and stir the whole until it becomes something like mush. Then stir in the fat from a number of cod livers. Sweeten it with syrup, and make it tart with vinegar. Don't forget to stir all the time. Note: If any of the above mentioned ingredients are missing, don't try to eat it.

Johan has awakened Uncle Erik by his reading aloud; and, as there is now a warm political discussion-Uncle believes in the party of the Right and Johan belongs to the Left-I shall have to quit writing for today.

February 28th.

Sunday. What a blessing to rest! We have had a hard week. The fish move about from place to place around the islands, and the fishers try to follow. So last week we had big fishing, and great crowds of men It makes a wonderful stir when thousands of men congregate in such a small place as this.

*

*

Cousin Johan came in as I began writing today, and wished me to go to church with him. I have just come back, and I don't know how well I shall be able to write, because something occurred in the church which has affected me strangely. We have meetings here every Sunday, and sometimes, on stormy days. I usually go. Johan scarcely ever goes. The preacher, today, was the well-known Pastor Bange. The house was crowded with fishermen. The pastor gave us the usual talk about the grace of God saving us all, if we but believe in Christ, and how we can do nothing of ourselves, in regard to our salvation. It was all very pleasant, I thought. After the sermon, privilege was given persons present to bear testimony, and in a moment, Cousin Johan was on his feet. The church was still as death-most of those present knew of Johan's unbelief, and his poor standing as a Christian.

"I should like you to explain, dear pastor," began Johan in his quiet

unhesitating way, "the Apostle James' expression that 'faith without works is dead;' also what is meant by the scriptural saying that all men shall be judged 'according to their works,' and that God 'will render to every man according to his deeds.' For my part, I agree with the Apostle. By God's grace the Kastfjord may be full of cod, but what profiteth it, if we do not gather them in; yes, take advantage of God's grace by long, hard work on our part."

Seating himself, a subdued hum swept through the room. Then the pastor arose again; I thought he was a little pale, but he smiled and was very calm. I scarcely heard what he said, he spoke so low, and I was myself so astonished at Cousin Johan; but I caught something about infant baptism, confirmation, and the sacrament being the works needed -the means whereby the grace of God is delivered to us. I'll admit, I was somewhat disappointed in the answer. It has all muddled me, and I hardly know what to think about it. Perhaps you can explain it to You stood at the head of your class, you remember, while I was only fourth.

me.

March 3rd.

The fishing has become poor here, and we are to move to Vagsund; so I will close this letter, and mail it today. Kind regards to grandmother, all other friends, and to yourself, from

Your friend,

HARALD EINERSEN.

VII.

HARALD'S THRILLING ADVENTURE ON THE SEA.

Vagsund lay under the steep wall of one of Lofoten's outermost islands. The fishing station itself was quite well protected, but the fishing grounds were some miles out from land directly in the sweep of the fierce Arctic storms which came rushing up the open Westfjord. Erik Svensen and his company found good fishing at Vagsund, although the weather was often so rough that they could not put to sea. It became colder, too. Fierce snowstorms often caught the home-coming boats, and sometimes made. it difficult to land. But fish they must, if possible; and the Nordland fisherman cares little for the state of the weather, if there is fish to be caught. However, at Lofoten, the government has instituted a strict supervision; and, on stormy days, the flag is not raised; that means, "Stay on land-no fishing today."

During these lay-on-land days, Harald and Johan had many

chats together. Harald found something attractive in his cousin. He enjoyed listening to the latter's talk, which always seemed so sensible, and straight-forward, for he had some ideas on politics and government in general which the young man thought were indeed fine. Johan did not often "talk fish," as did the other men, nor did he usually join in the common gossip of the crowd. He had attended school only very little. He had not even been confirmed, which made him quite a heathen, in the eyes of many who knew it. It was told of him that the winter before, Pastor Bange had gone privately to him and offered to confirm him if he would come to the school of the priest and learn the catechism; but Johan Bernsen did not attend the school; and whether or not he learned the catechism, he was not confirmed.

Johan, however, was a great reader, and he made good use of the library furnished the Lofoten fishermen. One stormy day in March, Johan lay in his bunk reading aloud, while Harald mended lines. Uncle Erik and Jens were out.

Suddenly Johan closed his book with a bang, took his pipe from the shelf, relit it, but said nothing for a time.

"Well?" enquired Harald.

"Harald," he asked "you are not going to be a fisherman all your life?”

"I don't know. I may be."

"Don't you do it."

"Why?"

"This fishing business is a dog's life. It's slavery of the worst kind. What advancement can one make? I never saw a fisherman yet that did not have to work

living. You've got to get out of this.

like a slave for a bare Make a little to begin

with, and then become a merchant, a fish buyer or something. If I could only obtain credit at Bergen for a year, I would come out on top-but say, Harald, why don't you go to school?"

ago."

"Why, I've been to school; was confirmed nearly four years

"Tut, you were confirmed! I know. That means you have completed your education! Nonsense, you had just begun. I wish I were in possession of your chances, you wouldn't see me catching cod all my life."