In some cases the small farmers move their whole families up to the mountain pastures for the summer; and, in addition to the dairy work, they rent the fishing on some of the mountain lakes, which they net freely. The trout thus caught are split open and salted down in barrels, eventually being sent down to the markets in the towns, where they fetch a good price. And all these peasants possess rifles, and are keen sportsmen, so that when August comes they go in pursuit of the wild reindeer, and lay up a store of meat, which, salted and dried, comes in very handy in the hard times of winter. As a rule the peasants eat very little meat, and what they do eat has probably been smoked and dried and hung up for several months. A good deal of salt fish is consumed; but the principal food is porridge (_groed_), made of barley, rye, or oatmeal, and eaten generally with sour buttermilk, with the addition of potatoes, when plentiful. White bread is not found far from the towns, and the black, or rye, bread is a heavy compound, a taste for which takes an Englishman some time to acquire. But even that is superior to the _fladbroed_, which in appearance and consistency resembles old boot-leather. The well-to-do farmer lives more sumptuously. He occasionally has fresh meat and fresh fish, and the dried articles nearly every day. He also indulges in cheese, usually of the commoner kind, known as _prim_, or _mysost_, which is not unlike brown Windsor soap. There are two other native cheeses, but they are considered somewhat expensive luxuries. They are called _gammelost_ and _pultost_, and are made from sour skimmed milk, being afterwards kept in a dark cellar for a year or so to ripen. The latter is the greater delicacy, and is stored, in a sloppy state, in wooden tubs. If you should ever chance to see one of the tubs being produced, do not wait to see it opened, or your nose will never forget it! Verily, winter is the bugbear of the struggling Norwegian countryman's existence. Like the provident ant, he spends the greater part of the summer in laying up for the winter, and he has not only himself and his family to think of, but also his cattle, for if the latter cannot be properly housed and fed he will be ruined. There are times, however, when he contrives to throw off the constant thought of the future, and when he can enjoy himself thoroughly. Sunday is a day of rest, with possibly a long row across the fjord to church, after which comes a good gossip with the neighbours, and the chance of a feast at a friend's farm. There are also high-days and holidays, weddings and christenings, accompanied by plentiful food and drink, as well as by dancing and fiddling.