XIX

Eric.

“I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." Hamlet.

ERIC is of medium height, with sloping shoulders, and, as described by the lady who fished in the pocket spate, forms a strong contrast to his fellow in mind and person. The grey in his neat beard accords well with the possession of a grandchild, for me tochter" has been married to "me tochter's man" for half a dozen years; but the elder of the two boatmen is blessed with something more than the larger experience that belongs by right to seniority, for he is endowed, in addition, with a truly marvellous versatility of talent. The chief superficial difference, however, lies in the gift of speech; for although,

on our expeditions, Anders had a word for every passer-by, we could not carry on a sustained conversation with each other, and notwithstanding my continual efforts I found that a sudden question, especially one beginning with "How" (a word he never fully grasped), frequently puzzled him altogether. One day we came across some sheep at a distance from a farm. I wondered how the farmer would secure a half-wild animal if he wanted to sell it, and this was the result of my inquiry: "Anders, how do you catch a sheep?" "Oh, ship; yes, very good," he said approvingly, reminiscent of chops.

"How do you catch him?"

"Oh, I dough nut."

I explained the meaning of the word "catch," arguing from fish, the known, the catchable, to sheep, the unknown, the uncatchable, and then returned to my original question; but the Norseman only laughed and said:

"Catch, oh yes; catch ship, yes," which caused me to shout interrogative "How's" at him until the birch woods rang again.

With Eric it was very different.

He never

stopped talking when on his feet, and even in the boat he would occasionally pour out torrents of narrative, cataracts of half comprehensible description, and streams of racy comment. His knowledge of English was extensive and quite peculiar, and the only time he ever was at fault in language or natural history was when he first saw a heron winging its majestic way over a distant reach of the river.

There is no boorishness in the man's rusticity, and he is equipped with all the sterling qualities which make Norwegians successful in a new country like the United States, where so many live in exile: it goes without saying, therefore, that he can live on the minimum of food and sleep, lie on a hard bed, smoke rubbish with contentment, and turn his hand to anything; but he can do more than this, for he is an expert in many trades.

First, he is a master smith; and between his evening farewell, after his modest glass of aqua-vitæ, and his morning greeting to you through the gunroom window, he will turn

you out a gaff or a hunting-knife which will shame all the gimcracks in Piccadilly: nothing is too large or too small for him to tackle, and he can put an iron shoe on a lady's walking-stick or pony with equal willingness and success; but these things are mere trifles to what he would describe as "a good mekanik," a title of honour that he has earned by showing that he can doctor a gun or a salmon reel as if he had devoted a life's attention to nothing else.

The next point in his catalogue of objective virtues is his intimate acquaintance with the haunts and habits of fish; every boatman worthy of the name can splice a rod, manage a pair of sculls, and carry home a salmon, but no one knows a river or the ways of things that swim therein like a converted poacher; and there is a story-but such slanders are out of place in the eulogy of Eric: why rake up the past? Suffice it to say that he has the management of the fish-house, is godfather to all the fry in the river, watches over the Homeric battles of the males and the spawning of the females in the convenient

shallows which are haunted by great piratical grey crows, and can tell at any hour, by private marks in the pool below his log-built house, what the water is like in every turn of seven miles, what places are fishable, and what are temporarily useless. As he rows himself across in the early morning, he makes up his mind what it will be best for the fishermen under his charge to do during the day; and having once come to a decision in private, nothing short of an earthquake will move him. He advises his master upon a certain course of action much in the same way that Her Majesty's Ministers, House of Lords, or Privy Council advise their Sovereign. It is no use arguing; and, besides, he is always right.

This despotism is benevolent, and its edge is tempered by a charming urbanity; indeed, Eric's manners and demeanour under all circumstances are the wonder of friends and strangers, and would be the envy of courtiers and diplomatists if any such cattle ever strayed into the valley. He looks you in the face with his kindly grey eye, and, using that silent language which can only be spoken by