PEASANT GIRLS’ SERENADE.
We had many visitors. At one time a group of five young peasant girls came and stood before our tents. Noah was too shy to go out and rocker Norwegian. Zachariah made up for his brother’s timidity. Full of fun, what dreadful faces the young gipsy would pull. They were absolutely frightful. Then he would twist and turn his body into all sorts of serpentine contortions. If spoken to, he would suddenly, with a hop, skip, and a jump, light in his tent, as if he had tumbled from the sky, and sitting bolt upright, making a hideous face, till his mouth nearly stretched from ear to ear, while his dark eyes sparkled with wild excitement, he would sing:—
At one time a woman brought an exceedingly fat child
for us to look at, and she wanted Esmeralda to suckle it,
which was of course hastily declined. We began to ask
ourselves, if this was forest seclusion. Still, our visitors
were kind, good-humoured people, and some drank our
brandy, and some smoked our English tobacco. Had
they not partaken of our salt? We, as Arabs of tent-life,
gave them our friendly welcome. After our tea, at five
o’clock we had a pleasant stroll. Once more we were
with Nature. There we lingered, till the scenes round
us, in their varied beauty, seemed graven deep in our
thoughts. How graphic are the lines of Moore:—
“The turf shall be my fragrant shrine,
My temple, Lord! that arch of thine
My censer’s breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
“My choir shall be the moonlight waves,
then murm’ring homeward to their caves,
Or when the stillness of the sea,
Even more of music breathes of thee.”
How appropriate, were the words of the great poet to
our feelings. Returning between eight and nine o’clock,
we found Esmeralda standing by the tents. We went in
and sat down. Another party of visitors approached.
Now and then they halted, as they looked towards our
tents, and would then refer to a paper. They stood
occasionally for a few moments in earnest discussion.
We were much puzzled to make out what they were
doing, as we sat in our tent looking at them. One of the
party, a tall, fine-looking man in plaid trousers, large
beard, and cap, advanced. As we bowed, he handed us
a Norwegian newspaper, and pointed to a paragraph,
which we soon found related to ourselves. They all took
some brandy; and when we offered to buy the newspaper,
they most kindly presented it to us. Then
Zacharia took them to see the donkeys. When they
returned, we made them understand, that they were at
the camp of the Englishman, referred to in the paragraph.
They inspected the tents and pinthorns. They felt the
blanket coverings, and also the waterproof Siphonian
cover. Examined our camp kettle; and we explained
to them the mysteries of our Russian lamp. There
was much discussion among them about our tents.
They stood by them for a quarter of an hour. Perhaps
the description in the paragraph was not quite understood.
The paragraph ran thus, and underneath we give
an English translation:—
“Blandt den Mængde af fremmede Turister skrwer Mgbl., der i disse Dage opholder seg hei i Byen for herfra at tiltræde Reisen om i Landet, er ogsaa en Engelskmand Mr. Smith, der er saa lykkeligat have opdaget en ny Specialitet inden Turistlwets Enemœrker. Han reiser nemlig ikke hrerkeu i Kariol, eller Kano, meu tilfods og forer alligevel med sig Mad, Drikke, Klœder, Sko, Hus, Hjem og alle andre Livets Velsignelser lige indtil gode Naboer. Han ledsages kort at fortœlle af 3 Æfler, paa lwis Ryg der lœsses allehaande Livsforn oden heder iberegnet Telte, som slaaes op, hvor og naar han onsker at raste, for atter at tuges ned igjen, naar han drager videre, og som under hans Reise helt oz holdent maa ers tatte ham almmdeligt Husly. Det er saaledes et fuldstændig gjennemfort Romadelir, der udgjor Mr. Smith’s Specialitet; men for at gjore dette rigtig Komfort abelt har han taget med som sin Betjening paa Reisen et Selskab af veritable Romader, nemlig tre Tatere (gypsies) to Brodre og en Soster. Det skal vere Mr. Smith’s tanke at anvende 3—4 Maaneder paa et gjennemstreife vore Hoifjeldsegne, og rimeligvis vil mangeu af vore Turister da faa Leileghed til at se deu lille Karavane, der udgjor hans Reisetrœn.”
“Among the numerous foreign tourists, says the Morgen bladett (Morning Paper), there is at present staying at Byen, with an intention of proceeding inland, an English gentleman, Mr. Smith, who has made a new invention for the use of tourists. He neither travels by carriage or boat, but on foot, and nevertheless carries with him food, drink, clothes, shoes, and every other necessary of life in a small compass. It consists of a folding contrivance on three donkeys, in which the articles are packed, and is carried on the back, forming when spread out a tent, whenever he wishes to halt, and the tent can be struck at pleasure. The invention is of a completely nomadic character, and to render the expedition still more consistent, he is accompanied during the journey, by a party of real nomads, viz.:—three Tartars (gipsies), two brothers, and a sister as servants. Mr. Smith designs to spend three or four months in our upper plateaux, in which he is far more reasonable than many of our tourists, few of whom do more than join some small party in the ordinary way.”
Our friend in the plaid trousers, who seemed a shrewd, intelligent man, did his best to solve all difficulties. We could not feel otherwise than pleased at the interest they took in our expedition. The voice of the tall man in plaid trousers generally dominated the conversation. At length, after a comparison between the respective merits of donkeys and mules, with many salutations, they left our camp. They had scarcely gone, when two or three good-looking peasant girls came, accompanied by some young men, and one rather good-looking woman, who asked a variety of questions in rapid succession. It is to be feared our answers were exceedingly indefinite, but she seemed to explain everything to everybody, and we began to look upon her as part and parcel of our camp. One lively, good-tempered, nice-looking girl knelt down near us, as we were seated writing our notes, and kept looking at everything in the tents, not hidden from view. Sometimes she laughed so merrily, that the impulse was catching, and we found ourselves joining, in her cheerful mood. Esmeralda had retired to sleep; the visitors were very anxious to see her, when informed by signs she was asleep, they contented themselves with looking at her Alpine slippers, which came in for a long criticism by the rather good-looking visitor, who explained everything, to everybody, until the hour becoming late they all left.
It rained heavily during the night, and it required some management to keep our things dry.
At 12.38 A.M. we called to Noah to report upon the morning,—“All misty and wet,” said Noah, as he looked out; and our getting up was postponed till six o’clock, when all rose for frokost (breakfast). Zachariah made the “yog” (gip., fire) in the wet damp morning; then when the fire burnt up, Zachariah, in putting our kettle of soup on the kettle-prop to be ready for breakfast, contrived to upset nearly the whole. The scene was melancholy and effective; the reverse of complimentary, were the observations of the rest of the party. Accidents will happen, so making the best of our loss, tea was substituted. Zachariah seemed more than any of the rest, disappointed and grieved, at what had occurred.
“Many times he would go into the forest of the peeke, and set up ther his tent, with great provision of viteles, and would remaine ther vii weeks or more hunting and making other worthy pastimes unto his company.”—Hunter’s South Yorkshire.
UNSUCCESSFUL FISHING—A MILITARY OFFICER—THE DERNIER RESSORT—OUR GIPSY RECEPTION—INTERRUPTED TOILETTE—FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE—DANCING ON THE GREENSWARD—TINCTURE OF CEDAR—THE DISAPPOINTMENT—THE LOSNA VAND—THE KETTLE PROP LOST—PEASANT CHILDREN—INTERESTING DISCUSSIONS—WRITING UNDER DIFFICULTIES—THE KINDLY HEART.
When frokost (Nor., breakfast) was over, we sent Noah and Zachariah to the Logan, with a fishing-rod each, and some trout-flies. Esmeralda stayed at the tents, and added to the remains of the former stock of soup, some rice, Liebig’s essence of meat, pea flour, and some mushrooms, gathered en route. She prepared some excellent soup for middags-mad (Nor., dinner). Esmeralda was standing outside the tents, when a traveller from Throndhjem came up with his Skydskarl from the road; he spoke to her in English, but she did not appear to understand him. When we came out of the tents, the stranger bowed, and said it was a pleasant way of travelling. He asked if we were Italians, at the same time looking at Esmeralda. We informed him the others were Romanys. He wished to know if we had our wife with us, and we informed him we were not married. Then our visitor asked how we managed in the rain, and when he had looked round our camp, politely took off his hat, and left. Noah and Zachariah returned without having had a rise. Leaving them in charge of the camp, Esmeralda and myself went to see a waterfall, but, missing our way in the forest, we returned laden with ferns, foxgloves, and lichens. We found at our camp a very respectably dressed young woman, accompanied by a girl with scanty white petticoat, barelegs and feet. Getting out our dictionary, we told them they should have some music, if they came at seven that evening. They mentioned otta klokken (Nor., eight o’clock), and it was so arranged. Noah and Zachariah having played them two or three tunes, our visitors left. The soup at dinner was excellent, and with some bread and butter, made a good meal. The weather now became very fine; we seated ourselves on a mossy bank, some short distance at the edge of the tangled thickets of the forest, which skirted our camp. Gleams of sunshine enlivened the scene. Esmeralda was busily cleaning our boots, when we noticed close to us, a tall, gentlemanly, Norwegian officer. He wore a military cap, and had come along a narrow pathway through the trees. We had not heard his footsteps, and as he paused for a moment, a faint smile seemed to play on his countenance. We bowed, and asked him if he spoke English, but finding he was not able to do so, we sent Noah to show him the donkeys. Noah was busily levelling, with our camp spade, certain inequalities of the small terrace near our camp, so that our visitors might have level turf for their dancing in the evening. When the officer returned, he appeared to wish to say something in English; a dictionary was handed to him, but that failing, Mr. Bennett’s “Dialogue Book” was given as a dernier ressort. Whilst he was in search of words, Esmeralda was busy brushing our clothes; sometimes he was turning over the pages, and sometimes he seemed rather astonished and amused at Esmeralda’s style of brushing, especially when she pulled our coat, and gave us a bang with the brush for not turning round. In vain he searched the “Dialogue Book,” and then he shook his head. Esmeralda completed her task, and declared we looked five pounds better. We then showed the officer the tents.
It was with much regret, we felt our inability to converse, yet it is astonishing what can be done, by a few words and signs. His carriage was in the road below. The day had become pleasant and warm; Zachariah and Esmeralda seated themselves on the mossy bank by the terrace, not far from our tents. Soon their wild music might be heard in the forest. The driver and a boy belonging to the officer’s carriage came up. A militia soldier marching along the road in a light suit of jean, with his knapsack on his back, was called up by his officer, whom he saluted. Our audience was complete. The officer was going to the militia encampment we had noticed as we came from Lillehammer. The music seemed to please him; he laughed at Zachariah’s wild comicality. When they had finished, with an exchange of salutations, he wished us good-by, and left. Our visitors were now gone. Noah and Zachariah washed themselves; and we had our tea, with potted tongue, and bread and cheese. As we were seated by our camp-fire, a tall old man, looking round our tents, came and stood contemplating us at our tea. He looked as if he thought we were enjoying a life of happiness. Nor was he wrong. He viewed us with a pleased, and kindly expression, as he seemed half lost in contemplation. We sent for the flask of brandy, and he drank to Gamle Norge (Nor., Old Norway), and then left to see the donkeys. In a few minutes Esmeralda cleaned and re-packed our tea things.
Returning to our tent we put on our Napoleon boots, and made some additions to our toilette; whilst we were so engaged, some women came to the tents. The curiosity of the sex was exemplified, for they were dying to look behind the tent-partition which screened us from observation. We don’t know what they expected to see; one bolder than the rest, could not resist the desire, to look behind the scenes, and hastily drew back and dropped the curtain, when we said rather sharply, “Nei! nei!”
Esmeralda shortly afterwards appeared in her blue dress and silver buttons. Then we all seated ourselves on a mossy bank, on the side of the terrace, with a charming view across the valley of the Logan. At eight o’clock the music commenced. The sun shone beautifully, and the mosquitoes and midges bit right and left, with hungry determination. We sat in line on the soft mossy turf of the grassy slope, sheltered by foliage, Esmeralda and Noah with their tambourines, myself with the castanets, and Zachariah with his violin. We had not played very long, when a man passing along the road below heard the music, and ran up. Much astonished he seemed, as he stood at a short distance from us, on the side of the terrace, and gazed at each by turn. When a tune ended he smiled approvingly. Some peasant women and girls came up after we had played a short time. It was a curious scene. Our tents were pleasantly pitched on an open patch of green sward, surrounded by bordering thickets, near the sunny bank, and the small flat terrace, which Noah had levelled in the morning. The main road was immediately below; and down the valley rolled the wide river Logan, with a picturesque island, dividing its rapid stream. The rising hills and rugged ravines on the other side the valley, all gave a singular, and romantic beauty to the lovely view. Although our gipsies played with much spirit until nine o’clock, none of the peasants would dance. At nine o’clock our music ceased, and we all retired to our tents, with the intention of going to bed. When we were going into our tents, a peasant, and several others with him, who had just arrived, asked us to play again. We declined, for we had already played an hour, and merely did so for our own will and pleasure. The peasants appeared very anxious, and offered us a three or four skilling piece, which we politely refused. At length, observing several peasant girls were very much disappointed, we decided to play once more, It was past nine o’clock when we again took up our position on the mossy bank. Noah was accepted by one of the Norwegian girls as a partner, and we made another couple with a good-looking young peasant “pige” (Nor., girl). When she was tired, we danced with Esmeralda. Both partners managed the schottische famously on the level turf. So we danced, and the peasant girls, until nearly ten o’clock. The terrace was rather limited in extent. Once we nearly whirled ourself and Esmeralda over the slope, and into the road below. The gipsies suffered grievously from musketos early in the evening.
“Ah!” said we to the gipsies, “that is soon prevented.”
Producing a bottle of tincture of cedar, which a Canadian friend had heard was an infallible remedy, all our gipsies’ faces, including our own, were carefully painted over with the brown liquid. For the information of our readers, we can only say it was a decided failure, and after several trials, in which the tincture only seemed to irritate the skin, without deterring in the slightest degree, the rapacity of hundreds of devouring insects, tincture of cedar was voted a miserable delusion, and a provoking sham.
Soon after we had wished our visitors “god aften,” (Nor., good evening) and had retired to our tents, a carriage pulled up in the road below. The occupants came up and walked round our camp. We did not see them, but were told afterwards by our gipsies, that one of our visitors, was the young man who had assisted us with our provision case at Lillehammer.
At half-past two o’clock the next morning, Tuesday, the twenty-eighth of June, all were moving. The idea that we were first up was speedily proved incorrect. Directly we left our tents, a Norwegian tramp, of torn and tattered appearance, came and gazed at our camp in mute astonishment, and then silently departed.
Esmeralda was soon up. Our kettle of soup was put ready to boil for breakfast, and the fire was lighted. Noah took charge of the kettle and pepper. The soup was boiled, and served out in our bowls, as we sat in the rather dull, cloudy, cold morning round the fire. Never shall we forget Zachariah’s look of epicurean disappointment, and misery, as he tasted the soup, and threw down his spoon.
“Now then, Noah, I can’t eat it!” We could not help laughing. Then it was tasted by ourselves. Esmeralda tasted it. Noah had literally deluged it with pepper. The soup was condemned. Noah took our anything but complimentary remarks upon his cuisine, with his usual good-temper, and, as if to show that the soup was really not so bad, he finished our shares as well as his own. Slices of bread and butter were cut for ourself, Esmeralda, and Zachariah, and we decided that Noah should never again attempt any culinary operations.
Hastily striking camp, all our things were packed and loaded. Our party left the camp ground at half-past five o’clock.
On the right of the road, going to Holmen, a short distance below our camp, we passed the mile-stone which marked two and a half Norsk miles, or seventeen and a half English miles from Lillehammer.
At Holmen bread could not be purchased, but we were told that we could get some at a house beyond, where Esmeralda afterwards bought eight loaves for two marks and a half. Several men followed us along the road to see our donkeys.
Passing a small sheet of water, some crows on the the bank were so tame that they allowed us to come close to them. The Norwegian crow has some white about it, but in size it is much the same as the English crow.
As we reached the shores of the Losna Vand, a long narrow lake, the rain clouds seemed to be gathering over some very picturesque mountains near its shores.39 Coming to a small recess of ground, by a stream of water on the road side near the lake, a halt was called—in truth we were rather hungry. The remembrance of the hot soup had not become effaced from Zachariah’s memory. When our things were unpacked, it was at once discovered, that our kettle prop had been left at our last camp. We were much annoyed, not only on account of the difficulty of boiling our things, but with regard to making holes in the ground for our tent raniers. As a substitute for our lost kettle prop, two Alpine stocks were brought into use, and some twisted wire was fastened between them, to suspend our kettle over the fire. Whilst we were engaged in preparing our meal, the rain storm gathered on the hills at the head of the lake. All our baggage was safely stowed away under our invaluable siphonia tent cover. Esmeralda was also sheltered in a comfortable place amongst the baggage. As her brothers and ourselves were pouring out the tea, it began to rain heavily. Soon afterwards, we found the donkeys had strayed out of sight, and Noah had to follow them at least half a mile, before he could bring them back to the camp.
A woman soon made her appearance and begged. We think she lived in a house on the road side, not very far from where we were. Four skillings seemed to please her very much. Then came a little boy dressed in only a few rags, who seated himself near our camp as we were taking our breakfast. The rain had almost ceased for a short time. The boy looked so piteous, as we were demolishing, with considerable appetite, tea, bread and butter, and sardines, that we could not help giving him some bread and butter. The little fellow said nothing, but putting out his hand, he clasped ours with a look of intense gratitude. Then came three small girls, and they also had bread and butter. The rain recommenced, but, breakfast being finished, Esmeralda was carefully covered up. Noah and Zachariah immediately disappeared underneath some part of the waterproof and fell asleep. We retired also, with our head just out, so that we could observe the travellers passing along the road. Several peasants came up, and stared at the donkeys, as they stood in the rain, near our dark mass of siphonian waterproof, with nothing else to be seen, but our head. They asked a number of questions with very little result, after which the donkies were again examined. Their mouths were opened, teeth reckoned, and their conformation carefully noted. Their tails were handled. Sometimes one of the donkeys, on such occasions, would move his hind leg, and great was the rush to get out of his way. We were asked their ages. The visit generally wound up with an earnest discussion amongst themselves, in which we could distinguish the words asen (donkeys), and heste (horses), often repeated.
Another group of women and men soon came to the spot, and, as we rested on our elbows with our head, out of our waterproof, we were again the subject of farther interrogatory. It is probable they did not elicit much, though our vocabulary improved with the journey. A peasant drove up with a crippled militia man. The driver at once got down in haste. He was particularly curious about the donkeys; in fact the three donkeys were evidently expected to be seen somewhere on the route, and they had become the subject of eager anxiety.
At one time, we almost expected to see the lone figure of the Birmingham bagman, in the driving rain, on the lake side, hovering near our donkeys, but he never came. Rain, rain, ever rain. We tried to write our notes, but our pencil formed all kinds of arabesque lines in zigzag pattern, which still remain in our note-book, and we fell asleep. The falling book awoke us to consciousness, and the necessity for action. We gave Esmeralda some quinine and water, and took some ourselves. Taking advantage of a lull in the rain-storm, the order was given to pack up, and we were soon en route.
The Losna Vand is a picturesque lake, but its beauty would have been more appreciated on a fine day. Our party travelled on, till we crossed a bridge over a stream, at the foot of a wild gorge. At the house near, we obtained two loaves of rye bröd, and half a pound of butter for 9d. The rain poured down heavily. We took shelter from the driving rain and wind, for a short time, to the leeward of a small log hut, on the shore of the lake by the roadside, whilst the donkeys stood under the wall on the other side the road. The gipsies were as lively as usual, though they were wet through, and had no change. We had our light siphonia waterproof on, and Esmeralda her long Alpine cloak. The gipsies sang, whilst Zachariah tumbled, and danced, and laughed, and pulled all kinds of dreadful faces. Then Noah found a curious round stone of quartz, but it was too heavy to carry. Some women came and looked at us with curious interest. We did not stay long. Notwithstanding the wind and rain, we must continue our journey, till we come to some spot where we can camp. When we had passed a short distance along the road, an interesting child, who had come down from a log cottage above, offered us a skilling. The little girl and her parents had evidently commiserated our forlorn condition as nomad wanderers, and were anxious to give their unsolicited assistance. It will not be forgotten in their account with the next world. We were obliged to refuse, and, shaking the little girl by the hand, bade her farewell. May she have long happiness in life, as her kind heart deserves.
WET TRAVELLING—VODVANG—OUR RUSSIAN LAMP—SWEDISH VISITORS— ALL WELL—MY HOBBINENGREE—THE CHILD OF NATURE—GUITAR SONGS—THE VILLAGE BEAU—MERLES GONE—THE MUSKETOS’ VICTORY —MORE RAIN—SCOTCH TRAVELLER—TIMBER FLOATERS—GIPSIES— ENRAGED ENGLISHMAN—THE FRIGHTENED SKYDSKARL—GIPSIES’ ENDURANCE—THE LISTARI COMMOTION—LISTAD SCENERY.
Our donkeys were pressed onwards, and passed some carts laden with merchandise. Anxiously our gipsies looked out for a camping ground. The waters of the lake, dashed in waves on the stony shore. The wind and rain met us in the teeth. Misty clouds gathered on the summit of the mountains opposite, as we travelled along at a quick pace. The packs on our donkeys, were carefully covered with our waterproofs. In vain we looked at every point for a camping ground. At one log cottage on the hill above the road, a woman with a yellow handkerchief over her head, rushed out, and ran down towards the road. Then a boy suddenly appeared on the other side of the house, and throwing up his arms when he saw us, they revolved like the sails of a windmill, as he struggled with quickened pace after the woman. Both ran towards an eminence of ground at some distance below the house near the road. “I hope they will get safe down,” remarked we to our gipsies. Sometimes the boy gained upon the woman. The race was exciting. Speculations were hazarded as to which would get in first. The woman might fall, but she did not, and won the race. Both stood in breathless contemplation as we passed. At last we reached Vodvang, splashed, wet, and weary.
There were not many houses at Vodvang. People were looking out of their windows, and several men had collected on the balcony of a large house, probably the gjœstgiver-gaard, to see us as we passed. The church was a quaint wooden structure painted red. The monumental records in the graveyard round it, were few in number—small wooden crosses, generally of similar pattern. Two men followed us along the road. Noah was sent up a wild-looking pathway to the top of a wooded hill, but found no camping ground. Then we inquired from the two men, who pointed several times to a thick fir wood a short distance beyond. We gave them twelve skillings, which they seemed very reluctant to take, and wished to return, but we said it was drike penge, and left them. Proceeding as fast as our donkeys could travel, for it was now past eight o’clock, we at length came to a private road, leading, through a gate, to the wood. There was no time to hesitate. We must go somewhere. Zachariah swung open the gate, and our wayworn looking party, were soon in a large, and picturesque forest glade. The track apparently led to some house. Almost immediately, we unloaded our baggage, and commenced pitching our tents, in a small gulley below the forest track.
The tent rods were scarcely in the ground, when up came three men, and two boys. The brandy flask was brought out in the heavy rain, and brandy poured out for the three men. They seemed pleased that we were going to camp there, and showed us a better place in the wood, for the donkeys to graze, than where Zachariah had tethered them. It was raining fast. Noah and Zachariah were wet through. Esmeralda not very dry; and our own boots and legs very wet. Our gipsies were not easily dispirited. We could not have selected better people for our campaign; accustomed to all weathers from their infancy, they met with ourselves cheerfully, all difficulties. Our tents were soon pitched, the siphonia waterproof cover fastened, and our things stowed away. Then the fire must be lighted in the rain. Whilst we prepared the Russian lamp, Noah gathered sticks. Only damp ones could be got. A crowd of peasants had come to our camp, and watched with curious interest our Russian lamp. They looked on with much astonishment, especially when the Russian lamp, underneath the sticks, gave forth its brilliant stream of flame. At the first trial the lamp ignited the sticks, but the fire was soon extinguished by the falling rain.
A boy kindly brought us some dry wood, and notwithstanding the rain, our lamp succeeded upon the second trial, and our kettle was soon boiling for tea.
Just as we had made the tea, Noah called out in Romany, that a boro rye (gip., great gentleman) was a vellin (gip., coming). The new visitor was a young gentleman wearing spectacles. He said he was not a native of Norway, but from Sweden. He was staying at a large house on the side of the wood above the road, and had seen our party come up in the rain from the main route. Two ladies who were travelling with him were in the forest track near our tents. Though he did not speak French, he informed us that one of the ladies was well acquainted with the language. The ladies then came to our camp. The rain had partly ceased. One of the ladies, yet young and good-looking, possessed an ease and dignity of manner we have seldom met with. She asked permission, in French, to see our tents. How useful we always find the French language as a medium of communication in our wanderings over the world. The tents were examined. Our gipsies were described as gitanos, who always dwelt in tents and were faithful to us. The young lady, her companion, who seemed amused during the visit, was also much interested in our wild, wandering life. At length, after a pleasant conversation, they all three left our camp. Then we had our tea. The peasants did not come during the meal, lest they might disturb us. When a number of them came afterwards, Zachariah played his violin, and Noah and Esmeralda their tambourines. Great curiosity was manifested, whilst Zachariah, all life and spirit, sitting in his damp clothes, on the wet grass by the fire, was ever pulling queer faces, new and then saying, “Dit a kei, look at that Bongy mouee, ha, ha”; and again they played some lively and spirited tune. We lounged in a corner of our tent. The Swedish gentleman came again. For some time he sat with Noah by the camp fire, asking occasional questions in broken English. He was lively and pleasant, and much fun seemed going on. Noah gave him some very original answers. The peasants seemed anxious to see us all in bed, but at last dispersed, and we fell asleep.
After a sound and refreshing night’s rest we were up at 7 o’clock; the morning was fine, and we could now appreciate the beauties of the woodland scene. The forest extended over the rocky hills, which bounded the valley. Esmeralda bustled about to prepare our breakfast; no one was the worse for the toil and fatigue of yesterday. Some peasants came, and were told we should give them some music at Otta Klokken (Nor., 8 o’clock). Noah and Zachariah were furnished with fishing tackle, and sent off fishing.40 The Swedish gentleman and the two ladies, we observed early in the morning, passing along a track through the wood near our camp. We both saluted. They were making an excursion, partly on foot, through Norway. As they crossed the river, they met Zachariah, and asked him if he always slept out in tents, and how many they were in family. The morning was devoted by Esmeralda and ourself to our camp arrangements; she was becoming an excellent housekeeper. What an impulsive dark-eyed girl! notwithstanding her odd sayings, and at times roughly turned phrases, one could not but admire the rude energy, and exercise of will she possessed. Noah and Zachariah returned. Mid-day meal consisted of broiled ham, tea, and bread and cheese. Two men came, and also the woman with bare legs, who had visited our last camp; they took much interest in our Australian method of making tea.41 Some children who came had bread and butter; one man had tobacco, and as they sat near, our musical box seemed to give them much pleasure. The two men suggested a better spot in the wood for the donkeys to feed, and they were taken there. Esmeralda and ourself left at 3 o’clock, and ascending a steep hill through the forest, reached some broken rocks, where we had a delightful view. After we had seated ourselves, we wrote our notes, and Esmeralda, who sat at our side, conversed occasionally. Who could feel other than regret, at so much want of culture, and so much wild sterility of mind, yet if she had undergone the modern methods of training, she would no longer have been the wild flower of nomadic life; she would not have been my companion in the wild forest, the valley, and lonely glen. There was much that was impulsive, and original, much that was impassioned, and sensitive in her powers of appreciation. It was astonishing, with all her disadvantages, she was what she was. As the brilliant sunshine of a Norwegian evening, gilded the pine forests, and distant fjelds, the indescribable feeling of happy freedom, cast its bright rays upon our hearts. Lingering for a moment, as we shut our note book we quitted a scene we may never view again, and returned through broken forest glades, to our camp, ready for tea at 6 o’clock. When we reached our camp, no one was there. Noah came in soon after, having been in quest of eggs. When our tea, and bread and butter was consumed, Zachariah returned from a boating expedition; presently the peasants came, and asked when the music would begin. Taking out our watch we told them it was five minutes to 8, and we should begin at 8 o’clock. We sat in our tents, and opened our concert, first with our gipsy song and guitar accompaniments, and then with the “Mocking Bird.” The tents were decorated with a picture of Alpine scenes. One or two tunes were played by all our gipsy party, but the peasants crowded round our tents until they nearly brought them down. Finding they wished to dance, we took some rugs, and went to the side of the flat roadway through the forest.
The forest scene pleased us; the evening was very fine. Zachariah never tired as he played his violin; sometimes we joined with castanets, sometimes with guitar, and occasionally with tambourine, relieving each other by turns.
Noah and Esmeralda waltzed together, and the couples who danced increased. The young men who danced were not many; the beau of the village, (and we always had one at all our peasant re-unions) was very active. We shall never forget, his good-tempered chubby face, and country bumpkin appearance, as he spun round in large low shoes, and worsted stockings, voluminous trowsers, and short jacket, which did not reach below his waist. The proportions of his Dutch build, were shown to advantage. It must have been warm work, as he puffed in his thick cloth snuff-coloured suit. If we looked through a powerful microscope at the fat boy in “Pickwick” we should see our friend exactly represented. He was Wackford Squeers’s sample schoolboy on a large scale. We can see him now in the open track of the forest at closing eve, with that stout young peasant girl of the Rubens style of beauty, twirling in an agony of exertion as Noah executed a roulade on the tambourine; we liked to see him, and his dancing was no doubt the envy of those peasants, who would have done likewise, if they could.
At half-past 9 our music ceased; several peasants pressed us to continue; the beau of the village even went so far as to offer us four skillings—he was, no doubt, a rich landed proprietor—of course we politely refused with mange tak (Nor., many thanks). Our heart at once relented—we have danced ourselves. The beau of the village, was again in his element, as a whale is at sea. They had got into step; we had found out the tunes they liked. At 10 o’clock our music again ceased. Wishing them good-night, we retired. Several peasants came to see the tents, one asked for more music, but finding we did not respond, the last group took off their hats, and left.
The peasants had not long departed, when down came Noah in haste to our camp: “The merles (donkeys) are gone, sir,” said the gipsy. Noah could see how it was. The ropes were left, and the men who had told us that it was a better place for grass, had only done so to steal them. We could not bring ourselves to suspect our friends, the Norwegian peasants, whom we had just been entertaining as our visitors, and who were always so kind, and friendly with us.
We immediately went with Esmeralda in search of our missing donkeys. Taking a track through the forest, we met some peasant children, to whom, with some difficulty, we explained that the donkeys were gone. They seemed to divine our thoughts, “Nei, nei,” said one little girl, pointing to a particular part of the wood, and as she was coming with us, a shout from Noah, and Zachariah, informed us they were safe. The peasants had kindly moved them to a better spot for grass. When the gipsies had tethered one of the donkeys, which they usually did, they returned to the tents. Noah said some of the peasants were still gazing at our merles.
The thermometer had been 74° during the day.
Sleep, who could sleep? Myriads of musketos had invaded our tents. We were all dreadfully bitten. Sleeping in a rug bag, our face only suffered. Our forehead was one mass of small swellings. We were all up at 2 o’clock in the morning. In the tent or out of the tent it was all the same.
Grievous were the complaints as we ate our breakfast. Wildly Zachariah flourished his Norwegian knife, as the enemies of his comfort attacked him on every side. In vain he vowed vengeance against the “skeatos.” We were determined not to endure the persecutions of our numerous tormentors any longer. The morning was cloudy, with drizzling rain. Striking our tents, we loaded our donkeys, and a little before 6 o’clock left the forest, and Losnœs en route for Listad. Near a beautiful lake, we passed two hamlets, at each of which our cavalcade occasioned great excitement. New and varied scenes met us at each turn, as we now left far behind us the town of Lillehammer, and the picturesque shores of the Mjösen Vand. It was astonishing the interest our donkeys occasioned. Here and there as we passed along, people rushed from their various pursuits, to get a glimpse of our party. One woman ran after us, and eagerly asked if the donkeys eat grass, at the same time plucking some from the road side, that we might better understand her question. At one place, we purchased four loaves of bread, and a pound of butter for 1s. 3d. Esmeralda at the same time tried to buy a stardy (gip. for hat) to replace those lost, but could not get one. At length we reached a large wet marshy valley, and met some men with long poles tipped with iron hooks. Soon afterwards a gentleman driving a carriole overtook us, and asked Noah if we were Italians. Finding he spoke English, we went up to him, and he told us he was from Scotland. Telling him we were travelling à l’aise with our tents and baggage, the novelty of the idea seemed to delight him, and bowing, he continued his journey. The end of the marshy valley, through which the Logan still held its course, was at length reached. On the side of a large projecting mass of rock, on the road side, near a stream of water, we found a large open space of ground, strewn with loose rocks. Part of the baggage was taken off the donkeys, who foraged about in rocks for scanty herbage. Lighting a fire, we had tea, bread, sardines, and Australian meat. The men with the poles again made their appearance with increased number. They drew up in line, and having grounded their poles, stood at ease. First they stared at ourselves and gipsies, as we rested near our baggage, and then at our donkeys. There were nine of them, of all sizes, and miscellaneous costumes. They were timber floaters. Their long poles were used to push the logs of timber adrift, when they stuck fast on the sides of the river. Quantities of timber cut down in the forests, and marked, finds transit in this way to the sea. As we were writing our notes, we also made a rough sketch of the men. A boy soon afterwards came, and said something in Norwegian about a quarter of a mile, which we at last understood to mean a convenient camping ground at that distance beyond us. Several other people came, and stood in the road, gazing at the donkeys, as they wandered about the rocks.
TIMBER-FLOATERS.—MID-DAY HALT.
The sun was now brilliant; the scene was particularly beautiful. Our gipsies after lunch fell into a sound sleep.
We had halted about 10 o’clock, and we left at 4 o’clock. Noah was quite unwell, and all suffered, more or less, from mosquito bites of the previous night. As we looked back, we could not help pausing some few minutes, to admire the picturesque outline of the mountains. We had not been long en route when three Englishmen in carrioles, came suddenly round a turn in the road. We heard one exclaim, “Gipsies!” as they overtook us, and drove by. We noticed the first was a bronzed, military, good-looking man. The driver of the second carriole, who was an excellent specimen of the English gentleman, said something, and bowed, and they were rapidly followed by a younger gentleman, and soon out of sight. Two or three travellers with carrioles met us afterwards, and looked at us with much curiosity as they passed. The evening was fine and enjoyable; the country on either side, was well wooded and mountainous. The river Logan added much to the picturesque beauty of the scene. Suddenly a carriole appeared behind us, driven by one who was evidently bent on salmon fishing. He wore a mackintosh, and had a south-wester over his head. When any carriages appeared my gipsies immediately got our donkeys in line along the side of the road. Noah at the head of the first, Zachariah the second, and Esmeralda led the third, so that they were all kept well out of the way. The traveller’s Norwegian pony seemed a little shy in passing us; but the traveller was driving quietly by, as the donkeys were halted, when down jumped the Skydskarl, and rushed to the pony’s head, which was suddenly checked into the road fence.
“What the devil are you doing, boy!” shouted the driver, whose nationality was unmistakable.
Esmeralda went to the pony’s head. We could hardly help laughing.
“Let go his head,” shouted our enraged countryman at the boy. Poor fellow, he was too bewildered, and probably did not understand English. With redoubled energy as he stared at the donkeys, he kept pulling the pony’s head against the fence, whilst Esmeralda was pulling the contrary way. In vain the traveller urged the pony. Wildly the Skydskarl held its head down.
“Get behind, boy,” shouted the traveller, “you’re pulling back. He’s quiet enough—let go, boy!!”
At last the Skydskarl retreated in confusion to the back of the carriole, half crying. The traveller was soon out of his difficulty, and rapidly disappeared along the road, apparently intent on his fishing expedition. Occasionally we came to a rural cottage, at one of which we noticed a lamb, and a goat. Zachariah played a pretty slow waltz, as we lounged along the road, all rather sleepy and tired. There was something of pure romance, and feeling, as we stood apart in spirit, and contemplated our calvacade, pushing their way to some unknown camping ground. There was our fine, strong, light-coloured donkey, with its Jerusalem cross, carrying its heavy packs with ease, stepping to the music of the bells on its scarlet collar. There was something soothing in those bells, timed by the animal’s movement. Then followed the puro rye, and the tarno rye, contrasting in colour. There was Zachariah walking by their side, now and then performing, a slow waltz, to the tune he was playing on his violin. However long the day, however wet and disagreeable the weather, still his gleaming eyes and merry ha! ha! dit a kei, the tarno rye, by gum, Mr. Smith is going to dell (gip., give) mandy a metramengery (gip., tea) this evening. Then came the tall form of Noah with his Alpine stock, and deer-stalking hat, set jauntily on one side. Noah was an admirable fellow for loading and packing; he had much improved since our campaign last summer; never out of temper, with plenty of energy and determination. By our side walked Esmeralda, in her long tweed cloak, fastened round her waist, small hat and feather, and thick boots studded with nails. Our guitar, in a light cover, was slung over her shoulder, whilst we carried, in a light cover, made on purpose, her tambourine, with our courier bag. Tall and slim, with raven hair, and jet black eyes, about our own height, the young gipsy girl had an indomitable spirit. Sometimes she caught hold of our hand, so that it might be more help to her, as we journeyed onwards, for she had had no sleep the previous night, and was much tired, all had been dreadfully bitten with mosquitos. The log houses we came to, had their groups of peasants waiting to see us. Some would run with tumultuous haste, to be in time, and a red cap generally appeared prominently as one of the number. They had often a good-humoured smile on their countenances. It was lovely scenery all the way, especially when we reached the turning to “Venebrygden” and crossed a rapid, broad stream, issuing from a rocky gorge, beneath a lofty mountain, whose base to nearly its summit, was covered with fir. An old man with a wallet came from a log house, near the road, and we gave him a piece of money. At length we came to a place we were told was Listari. It was a large house of superior construction, on the road side, with extensive buildings, and an appearance of much comfort. Some heads appeared at the windows as we approached. Then we heard the sudden clatter of feet, running downstairs, to obtain a nearer view of our party.
There was an excited rush. One gentleman stuck to a front window commanding the road, and looked at us with a curious, and amused expression of countenance. The old man with the wallet joined us again, and we gave him another piece of two shillings. He said something, which we thought meant camping ground beyond, and passed on. We were now anxious to camp. Coming near Listad we noticed some unenclosed ground, rising in a steep slope, to the base of some fine bold precipitous rocks, close above the valley. The sloping ground was steep, with little grass, covered with loose rocks and scattered birch-trees. A rough turf-way led apparently to a first ridge, of lofty ground, immediately above the road. Zachariah went up first, and hearing his peculiar gipsy whistle, we all climbed the track, rough with uneven grassy hillocks, studded with birch-trees, and sheltered by rocks. In a small hollow, near a rough fence, at the summit of the ridge, our donkeys were unloaded. It was a beautiful camping ground for our night’s repose.