“Let us rest a bit in our tent this fine evening to collect our memoranda from the note-book hurriedly pencilled. Yet it is not easy to withdraw the eye from the beautiful picture before us, framed by the curtains of our canvas boudoir.”—The Rob Roy on the Jordan.

OUR FIRST CAMP—CAMP VISITORS—GIPSY MUSIC—FOREIGN TABLEAU—CURIOUS OBSERVATIONS—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE—EARLY START—LAING’S SUGGESTIONS—THE GUDBRANSDALEN—THE HUNNEFOS—THE AUSTRALIAN MEAT—CAMP RULES—THE PAIR OF GLOVES—SUDDEN SHADOWS—OUR TALISMAN—NEW FRIENDS.

The MjÖsen is a fine lake. The scenery is not bold, or imposing in wild and rugged outline, but it is beautiful and pleasing. There is a richness often wanted in the wilder scenes of nature. Our contemplation must be short; we have work to do. Noah with my Tennant’s geological hammer soon began to loosen the nails of the provision-case. A crowd of boys, who gathered round, and the tall man in the background, rendered the group of spectators a complete study; there was an expression of deep interest as Noah loosened every nail. Our gipsies had been well cared-for by the gallant captain of the Dronningen. He had kindly arranged for our people to pitch their tents on some waste ground near the lake; the woman of the house above seemed to exercise a sort of right over it, and had agreed to supply our people with food at the house. She was an energetic old woman, with not a very good-tempered expression of countenance, but she had been very attentive.

The captain had on the previous evening taken our gipsies in a boat across the lake. They had spent the evening very pleasantly with himself and wife. Some sympathy was expressed for the separation of Esmeralda from her husband, referring to myself. The gipsies, we afterwards understood, had a gay time on board the Dronningen; they played at the captain’s request, who collected quite a fortune for them. Noah and Zachariah33 were also treated to cigars, and various liquids by the passengers. Their voyage on the MjÖsen Lake seemed to have been unusually gay. Once more we were in camp, and the boys from the town above kept accumulating round our tents. Then we went up the road towards Lillehammer with our maps, and examined the route, and the direction ready for our journey next morning. When we returned, it was eight o’clock. There were so many people about, that Esmeralda and myself went up to the woman’s house to have coffee. Noah and Zachariah afterwards took their turn whilst we stayed at the tents. Noah had our instructions to pay the woman, but he was quite unable to regulate the account. We found the old woman, who was exceedingly polite, charged us three dollars for our coffee that evening, and a day and a half board for our gipsies, and the use of the waste ground. The charge was nearly as much as we had paid at the comfortable inn at Eidsvold, with lodgings for a longer period. The gipsies had promised her some music; and as we were anxious to pass the time until the people should disperse, Esmeralda and Zachariah came up to play one or two tunes. We had an upstairs room, very bare of furniture, containing only a small table and sofa and two or three chairs. Esmeralda sat on the sofa, and myself and Zacharia at each end of the table. Away went the violin and the tambourine, waltzes and polkas, in rapid succession. The old woman walked about in an ecstacy. Very shortly afterwards a large crowd of both sexes appeared at the doors of the room, and we motioned for them to dance or sit down. In came the steward of the steamer, smoking a cigar, and the cashier with him. Bang, bang, went the tambourine. Esmeralda, with her dark eyes flashing, was no mean tambourinist. With regard to dancing they seem very diffident. Chairs were brought, and the steward and cashier were accommodated. The former smoked, and seemed on the best of terms with himself and everybody else. He was a good-humoured, good-tempered fellow, and pressed us to have something to drink. Notwithstanding we declined, in came the woman of the house with two bottles of beer and glasses for us. The bottles were uncorked and the steward came to pour out the beer; but although he pressed us to take some, and also to allow our gipsies to do so, we were firm in our determination. With an air of almost disappointment that we did not accept their hospitality, he returned to his seat. Jingle, jingle, went the brasses of the tambourine. The room, and passages to it became quite thronged. The steward smoked; the cashier seemed, we thought, to look with apparent admiration at our tambourinist. We had evidently an appreciative audience. The assemblage reminded us, as we sat there in quiet contemplation, of one of those foreign scenes at times represented in dramas in London. Gipsies, foreign costumes, log-house, landlady, peasants with knives at their sides, steward of steamer and cashier, wild strip of broken ground below the house, tents, donkeys, steamer, and the lake beautiful with the shadow of declining day—all the elements of romance were there, and it was a reality.

We looked at our watch: it was nearly ten. We rose, and passing through the visitors wished them good evening, and were soon seated in our tents. Group after group of people came thronging down, taking a cursory glance, as they passed, as if unwilling to intrude. We were busy arranging and packing our things for the next morning: some would now and then peep in; one went so far as to take hold of our tent carpet and examine it. Another laid hold of our iron kettle-prop outside, and it was amusing to see the earnest discussion that was going on as to its use. An intelligent man with a benign smile made a motion with it, as if making holes in the ground, and whilst pointing to the tent-rods looked at us for confirmation. He was evidently much gratified by our nod of assent. The centre of attraction were the donkeys; party after party from Lillehammer swept by our tents along the broken ground, to the spot where our donkeys stood. They were examined with an earnestness which showed our friends to be warmly attached to the subject of natural history. The steward came up to our tents, soon after we left the house, and pressed us to come with him on board the steamer, but we declined; whereupon he took off his hat and left. The goods porter of the steamer wandered about our tents for some time, and at last came up and said he wanted half a dollar more for the carriage of the case. When we took out our money to pay him, he said it was a dollar. Perhaps we misunderstood him at first. The captain had said we had nothing more to pay; but, not having any time to investigate the matter, we trusted to the proverbial honesty of the Norwegians, and so paid the dollar required. Taking advantage of a lull in the number of the visitors, as it was becoming late, the case was unpacked. Then more visitors came; but we went on and repacked our provisions in our bags, for carriage the next morning on our donkeys. Some of the lookers-on near our tents criticised our biscuits, and especially our pea-flour which was scattered over everything. They did so good humouredly, and seemed astonished at our stores. Zachariah launched the empty case on the lake below. Our visitors at last became few in number, and less frequent.

Esmeralda carefully packed up her dress with the silver buttons. She had hung it on a bush near the tents after they had arrived at Lillehammer. The blue dress and the silver buttons gleaming in the sun must have been a pleasing sight. At last we went to bed; that is, we retired to sleep on our waterproof rug and carpet within our tent partition. The indistinct sound of voices outside our tents and the noise of persons who appeared to be wandering about the donkeys still continued, but we were all soon asleep: The thermometer had been at 86° Fahrenheit in the day.

The hum of a small mosquito awoke us at about two o’clock in the morning; at half-past two o’clock we roused our gipsies. The things were soon packed on the donkeys by Noah, who was an excellent packer. We finally struck our camp at three o’clock A.M. The house where our coffee had been supplied the previous evening was shut up, and wrapt in silence; the woman of the house was possibly slumbering with the three dollars under her pillow. The steamer lay moored at the wooden pier, where the steward and cashier, if they slept on board, may have been dreaming of the dark-eyed gitana.

How silent all seemed in the early morning on the banks of the MjÖsen Vand. Not a soul stirring, save one solitary fisherman in his boat in the far distance upon the lake. With our Alpine stocks, tents, and baggage, donkeys and gipsies, we slowly ascended the road to Lillehammer. How delightful in the freshness of the early morning to commence our nomadic wandering of many days. Laing says, in his excellent work on Norway,34 “A young and clever English sportsman, especially if he had a taste, also, for any branch of natural history, ought to pass a summer very agreeably with his rifle, fishing-rod, and his tent, among the fjelde and lakes, encamping where fancy and sport might lead him, and carry all his accommodation on a couple of ponies.”

As we passed through the town of Lillehammer we noticed that most of the windows were shut; the inhabitants were enjoying their morning sleep. We felt thankful that we carried our home with us. Lillehammer is not without its associations; its former cathedral and monastery were originally founded by an Englishman, Nicholas Breakspear, in 1160. He was afterwards Pope Hadrian IV. As we passed down the long street, one man was on the look-out; with hot haste he rushed to the back of the house, as if to apprise some one else of our coming; he returned as we were going by, and said “Ya, ya!” when we asked if we were in the right road for Holmen; then standing in the street, he gazed after us until we were out of sight.

With feelings of bright anticipation we had entered the long and fertile valley of the Gudbrandsdalen.35 Commencing at Lillehammer, the valley of Gudbransdalen extends 168 miles to the foot of Dovre Fjeld. Our route is on the right bank of the Logen. Many cultivated farms occupy the lower portions of the often narrow valley on each side of the main road, while hills and pine woods rise above them on either side.

We all felt particularly hungry as we pushed on for some distance along a good road on the right of the river Logen. Coming to a small stream of water on the road-side, we partly unloaded our donkeys; on a small space of rough ground the gipsies lighted a fire, and prepared our breakfast of tea, sardines, and college biscuits. One large carriage and pair passed us en route for Lillehammer; a pony with carriole was tied behind it, and all were jogging along at a comfortable pace, with the occupants fast asleep. Noah commenced repacking our donkeys, when a timber cart passed with two men upon it; one wore a red cap. They stopped and scanned our donkeys with curious eyes; then they wished to know why we did not use the donkeys to draw a carriage. The man in the red cap offered Esmeralda a seat on his timber, which, though kindly meant, was not accepted. They went on before us, and evidently made known our coming, for from time to time men and women rushed up to the fences on the road-side to look at our cavalcade;—it was a very picturesque one, including Zachariah almost fast asleep on one of the loaded donkeys. As we proceeded we were overtaken by a carriage, in which we recognised the inn porter who had assisted us with our case from the steamer. The two travellers in the carriage had been our fellow-passengers by the steamer on the MjÖsen; they took off their hats. Another carriage afterwards followed, and another steam-boat passenger took off his hat and recognised us again. We were now some miles from Lillehammer, and Noah was sent to try a roadside house for bread; the woman, who spoke a little English, recommended a house beyond. Coming soon after to an old road leading below the new main route—along the edge a deep declivity covered with trees and bushes, which formed the lofty bank of the rapid foaming river Logen—we halted. We were in sight of the falls called the Hunnefos. The river is broad and rapid; and the falls, although not of great height, are nevertheless picturesque. Above the old road an embankment of loose stones sloped up to the main route, which was not very far above us, although overlooked from the road; the spot now overgrown with short turf was sufficiently level and out of the way for our camp. We were all rather sleepy, and wanted rest; the day had become very hot. Esmeralda had not felt very well; a very small quantity of quinine helped her on the journey. Having decided to remain here, the donkeys were driven down the old road for a short distance. From this spot we had a beautiful view of the falls; our camp was probably not far from the station of Aronsveen. It was delightful to lounge among our baggage after we had unpacked. The road being a sort of cul-de-sac, we left the donkeys to ramble below. Noah went in search of bread and butter to a farm-house, and procured a small loaf and half a pound of butter, for one mark and a half; the loaf was black bread and small. Several very heavy showers came on, but our light siphonia waterproof from Edmiston’s kept all our things perfectly dry. Dinner was prepared at about one o’clock; a case of the Australian cooked mutton was opened: with some hesitation we had added Australian meat to our commissariat; we had ventured to take it, like the skater who tries the ice for the first time. Our sardine-opener in the form of a fish, which cost 6d., soon gave us access to the tin of meat. All pronounced the Australian preserved mutton excellent. Esmeralda, who had been very sleepy and not very well, though revived by the quinine, did not entirely recover until after dinner. A bottle of claret was shared amongst us. It was our first day in camp, and our rule of no stimulants or smoking allowed was not rigidly enforced. Two songs with the guitar enlivened the party; then a duet, violin and guitar; afterwards a duet, violin and tambourine; finale, all the instruments together. Noah was chaffed as usual. The sun became so hot after dinner, that we could scarcely bear our terrace, placed as we were at the foot of an embankment of loose bare rocks. The donkeys escaped and went towards Lillehammer. Noah had fallen asleep, but starting up in a sort of stupor, at length succeeded in bringing them back. Some of the people passing along the main route stopped to gaze at Noah. Some few came down, and a small glass of brandy was handed to them to drink Gamle Norge. It was after all very convenient not to be able to answer all the questions asked; much trouble was saved. We had provisions, and it was not of much consequence to us, in the way we had chosen to travel, if we did not understand many words, and could not satisfy all curiosity. The trout from the MjÖsen, it is said, cannot ascend the falls of the Honnefos; they are exceedingly good, and some are stated to have weighed 36 lbs. Gipsies being a restless people, Noah and Zachariah were sent to fish with two rods and some small trout flies; we had no hope of their catching anything, but it employed their time, and was an occupation for them. The water was a light snowy blue, with a strong and rapid stream. Esmeralda felt sleepy, and was threatened with the loss of a pair of gloves; yet we felt that we could not play with her, or approach her on any other terms than were honourable to both. We worked at our notes and maps while the gipsy maiden slept, and her brothers slashed the water in the rapids below; about seven o’clock Noah and Zachariah returned, as I expected, without any matchee (fish).36 A number of people came down the embankment occasionally to look with curious interest on the donkeys. The animals were carefully examined, and another page was added to the natural history of Aronsveen. One interesting young person came and looked from the road above at Noah with much interest; she afterwards came a second time, and lingered ere she left. We decided that, as we had started so early, we should rest where we were for the night, and start early the next morning, about four o’clock.

Noah, after a coaching in Norwegian words, went to seek bread-and-butter (smÖr og brÖd) at the farm-house. He was to display some money in his open hand as an additional inducement. No result being reported on his return, we sent him a second time to the charge for fladbrÖd, but they had not got any to part with. We lighted our fire; tea was made, and a pleasant meal of fried bacon, college biscuits and butter, was soon concluded. Bread was bought, when we had the chance, in order to save our biscuits.

It was now decided to have our tents pitched for the night. Noah had just made the holes with the kettle-prop, and was putting in the tent rods, when a number of people suddenly appeared at the edge of the embankment above. Down came a tall gentleman, apparently between fifty and sixty, followed by probably his son and a short stout gentleman. He said something in a tone of authority to Noah, who, not understanding what was said, went on calmly with his tent-pitching. We were at a short distance from Noah with Esmeralda, arranging some of our baggage. It appeared to us that something about illegal was said: breakers ahead crossed our mind; we must port helm. We advanced to Noah’s assistance, and said in Norsk—“Good evening;” then we quietly reached out our silver-mounted flask, and pouring out a small glass of brandy, handed it to the senior of the party. He handed it back politely for us to drink first. We just tasted it, and said, Gamle Norge.37 He took a small sip and then emptied the glass. We poured out another and handed it to the younger visitor, whom we took to be the son, a well-dressed, nice-looking, gentlemanly young fellow, who drank some of it. His father seemed one whose views of the world were stern and not on the lively side of the picture. His son had a pleasant twinkle in the eye, and seemed rather amused at the scene. The father then began apparently asking questions. We did not understand much of what he said, and Noah and Zachariah continued putting in the tent-rods, without troubling themselves about the matter. It was necessary to say something, and we informed them we were going at four o’clock next morning, pointing to our watch; and thinking it best to clench the affair, we quietly opened our courier-bag, and handed the document kindly given us by the Presten Eilert Sundt. We felt much in the position of the Harlequin and Columbine, who are suddenly brought to a dead lock in a Christmas representation, and have to invoke for their safety some good genius of extraordinary power. We quickly observed the countenance of the senior gentleman who commenced reading. “Herr Hubert Smith from England, with Tater (Rommanes gipsies), three donkeys, and two tents, &c., travelling from Christiania to Romsdal, Voringfos, &c., to Christiansand, to see the country and study the Norwegian gipsies, etc.; with a final request that we should have help and assistance from his countrymen,” &c.38 When our visitors came to the signature, “Eilert Sundt!!!” said the senior gentleman in a deep whisper to his son; the son, who was also looking over the paper, seemed equally astonished. They examined the seal for a few moments, and handed the document back. Without saying more, they watched the tents which were put up soon after. They seemed rather surprised at our tent with all its paraphernalia and fittings, and then politely lifting their hats and bowing, without another word they suddenly left the scene. The people who were collected on the top of the embankment as spectators evidently did not seem to understand how it was. Perhaps some terrific example was expected to be made of our tall gipsy, Noah, as a warning to all the gipsies in Norway. It is impossible to say, and probably it will remain one of the links in the history of our wanderings which can never be supplied, nor is it of much consequence.