“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.