“The moss your couch, the oak your canopy; The sun awakes you as with trumpet call; Lightly ye spring from slumber’s gentle thrall; Eve draws her curtain o’er the burning west, Like forest birds ye sink at once to rest.”
Two or three other passengers were seated in our first-class compartment. The accommodation was very comfortable. In the carriage, above our seat, there was a small tap, and drinking-glass, for the supply of deliciously clear, pure iced water, for the convenience of the thirsty passenger. It was after five o’clock when we left Christiania. We had about fifty-two miles to travel that evening. Our attention was divided, between conversation, with one of our fellow-passengers—a military Norwegian officer—the contemplation of the country through which we passed, and the thoughts of what sort of place, we should have to camp in that night. The Norwegian officer was an interesting companion, the paysage, we passed through, was picturesque, but the idea of our future camp, occupied Great numbers of the inhabitants were now emigrating to America. Many sold their farms very cheap, in order to leave the country. The train stopped once for refreshment, at a large wooden station, and we had an opportunity of seeing our gipsies. We passed through the largest plain in Norway. When we had nearly arrived at Eidsvold, our fellow-traveller left to visit the artillery practice-ground. We were then left to muse over our coming adventures. The train stopped at last on the side of a large platform. We were now close to the MjÖsen Lake, and had reached the terminus of the Christiania and Eidsvold railway. Descending to the platform, we found that not a person spoke a word of English. With some little difficulty we got our luggage out, and the donkeys also, to the astonishment of a small group of people, including an old man in a white hat. Showers of rain had prevailed during the route, and we could not see any convenient camping-ground near the station. We walked up the platform, and down the platform, followed by our retinue of three gipsies. The old man in the white hat continued to watch over us: he followed us, hovered round us. We tried to converse, but made Saying something about “speise,” coffee and eggs and most excellent bread and butter were set before us. Our baggage was deposited in the passage. The gipsies, Noah and Zacharia, at our request, commenced playing the violin and tambourine, whilst the evening meal was being placed on the table. The old man, who came up with the luggage, still lingered to hear the music. We seated him on a chair near the door, for we began to look upon him as our guardian angel. The comely-looking “pige,” or girl-in-waiting, at length seated us at table, as we set our musical-box to play. They had probably never heard one. There was a charming stillness about the place, broken by those liquid modulations of harmony, which seemed to create a thousand impressions, and agreeable sensations. Then we found ourselves taking our quiet evening meal with our three gipsies, who, to do them justice, passed muster wonderfully well. Esmeralda had the small sofa. After all the hurry, worry, and bustle of the day, as we sipped our coffee, we could not help feeling thankfulness to the Giver of all things, peace with all men, and content with the world. Our repast ended, the musical box ceased to play, the old man, bowing, retired. The kind-hearted looking girls prepared the beds. Esmeralda had the best bed, in the sitting-room; Zacharia, one made up for the night Never shall we forget Zacharia in his bed, as we looked into the sitting-room the next morning. High above the sofa, one naked foot protruded, somewhere trailing near the floor we noticed some straggling locks of black hair, belonging to a head, whilst all the bed-clothes were tied, twisted, tumbled, and rolled into every conceivable shape. We had an early “frokost” (breakfast)—excellent coffee, eggs, bread, and butter, People are moving early in Norway. It was a fine, beautiful morning: gipsies must be employed, and the violin and tambourine were again in requisition, whilst we sat on the sofa, at our small table, writing up our diary. The servants came up occasionally, and listened to the music, as they stood at the open doorway of our room. So the morning passed in delightful rest and tranquillity. Who could be otherwise than happy, with such honnÊtes gens? Everything was so clean and tidy. Our “middags mad” (dinner, or midday meal) was served, at our request, at one o’clock. It is astonishing how a small stock of words, will enable you to supply your wants, in a foreign land. Yet we did not look upon Norway as foreign to us; all was so homely, that we felt at home with everything, and After our dinner, Esmeralda decided to put on her new dress. She had one faded, worn frock, which she wore under her Alpine cloak. Her wardrobe being so limited, we had bought her a blue dress, at no great cost, before leaving England, and her mother made it up. In order that she should not be different from the Norwegian style of ornamentation, we purchased some plain silver buttons. They were stitched on in front, and at the cuffs, on a Scotch plaid braid, which trimmed the dress, and was the selection of her mother. We were rather amused, as we looked up from our writing, to see her descend from the inner room, where she had completed her toilette. The silver buttons were resplendent on the dark plaid braid. The dress was made according to the gipsy fashion. We thought her mother might have allowed her a little more skirt, and the bodice was rather close-fitting—scarcely room enough for development. Esmeralda had naturally a wonderfully small waist, and the dress was so made that it seemed quite tight all the way down before, being more ample behind. There was no concealment of legs; she had put on some coloured stockings, and her Alpine slippers, which we had given her to rest her feet occasionally when she took off the It appeared that two packages had been found. Three others, Mr. Bennett said, were probably in the hold of the vessel; and Captain Soulsby had reported several odds and ends, left in our cabin to be forwarded. We were almost au dÉsespoir. My gipsies must do something; so the violin, tambourine, and castanettes, again sounded in a maze of polkas and waltzes. At times a succession of visitors came up, and stood in the passage to hear the music, but we could hold no converse with them. At last we had coffee, eggs, and bread and butter. What coffee! We often wonder how it is we so seldom have in England anything which represents the name. In France, Germany, Norway, and Denmark you have excellent coffee almost everywhere. Our gipsies had managed wonderfully well. Zacharia did once upset the contents of his cup of coffee over the white cloth. We made them use their napkins, and restrained as much as possible the use of the knives, at times, when the fork was the proper vehicle to the mouth. Much nervousness was in consequence avoided. As we were lounging over our coffee, our guardian angel, the old man, came up, and bowing, murmured something about Herre wanted to see us. Who could want to see us? Probably some matter connected with our baggage, which was strongly associated at that time with every idea. We went down soon afterwards, and entered the next house under the same roof. A stout, portly, nice-looking man in uniform took off his hat, and said a very good English “Good evening, sir.” He was captain of the lake steamer, leaving the next morning for Lillehammer. The captain wished to know whether we were going next morning. Returning to our room, we continued our diary. Noah informed us at dinner, that he had put by an engagement of £1 a week, offered by some farmer, in order that he might accompany us. Much thankfulness was expressed at so much self-sacrifice, and it was the subject of many a quiet joke during our journey. How pleasantly the time passed. How smiling life seemed in the retirement of Eidsvold. Again Zacharia struck up his violin; again Noah executed a clever roulade on his tambourine. More visitors occasionally appeared, and disappeared. Then we sent Noah and Zacharia down to the station, to see if any of our baggage had come by the last train, and we were fortunate enough to receive four packages, including our guitar, and one package by Captain Soulsby. The case of provisions could not be found. Our telegrams increased. We hoped to get the case next morning before the steamer left Eidsvold. In the stillness of the closing evening, we sang with the guitar, our gipsy song. One of our attendants was most certainly in love with Noah. We had generally sent him to the other house, to ask for whatever we wanted. It was practice for him, and no doubt he had made a conquest. About ten o’clock the attendants made up It is light at an early hour in Norway. We were up at four o’clock, a number of letters were written. At six o’clock it was found that Esmeralda had one eye nearly swollen up. A musketo had lounged in, through the open window in the night. It was natural that he should be attracted by her dark eyes, but he should have been satisfied, with distant contemplation. I was called in as the “cushty drabengro” (gip., good doctor), and by the aid of some glycerine rendered the bite less painful. The rest were soon up. We had found Zacharia in some extraordinary complication of bed-clothes on the sofa. I think he was glad to regain tent life, for this was the last time he slept off the ground during his stay in Norway. “Frokost” was served at seven o’clock—coffee, eggs, bread and butter. As usual, all excellent. The bread, we understood, was sent from Christiania to Eidsvold. The morning was lovely—our spirits almost irrepressible. Esmeralda poured out the coffee—“del the moro” (gip.) “give us the bread,” Romany and English sparkled on the board. After “frokost” we repacked some of our baggage, and Esmeralda brushed our coat. The bright anticipation of a delightful trip along the MjÖsen Lake, and the probability of our case of provisions coming by the |