A GORGIO—COMFORTABLE BONDEGAARDS—MORE SPEILE—THE LOST KEY—DEN ASEN TOUJOURS—VEGETABLE SUBSTITUTE—THE GOODLO DISCUSSION—WIVES’ UTILITY—FRIENDLY PEASANTS—NORWEGIAN WALTZ—GIPSY CHAFF—THE DARK WOMAN—ANXIOUS QUERISTS—EARLY VISITORS—TIMID WOMAN—GIPSIES APPRECIATED—THE CHARMING POST-MISTRESS—THE MANSION NEAR HARPE BRÖ.

No sooner had we unpacked, and our things were under our waterproof, than a gorgio was announced. As if by magic, a middle height, thick set man appeared through some birch-trees. He hesitated, and did not speak. Our silver-mounted flask was quickly drawn from its plaid bag, and we handed him some aquavËt. Silently drinking, he nodded his head. Seeing the end of a pipe sticking out of his waistcoat pocket, we offered him some English tobacco, which he also took, and saying in a whisper, “tak,” vanished as silently as he came. A fire was lighted to boil the water, which Zachariah procured from a torrent in the rocks above the camp. Metramengry consisted of tea, fried bacon, two small trout caught at Vodvang, and bread. The rain suddenly commenced, and it poured in torrents. Dark clouds gathered thickly, as we sat at tea wrapped in our waterproof rugs. Not long afterwards the silent man returned with three others, who also had brandy. We pitched our tents in the rain, and, thanks to our waterproof covering, our things were kept tolerably dry.

The view was magnificent. The broad waters of the Logan flowed in the valley below us. Islands in its stream heightened the picturesque effect. A considerable quantity of well wooded and grassy land formed the bed of the valley. Pleasant bondegaards, or farms, extended to the base of hills, crowned with forest. Beyond rose the peaks of the wild Fjelds.

Esmeralda had quite recovered from her fatigue; Noah was now quite well. Tea is a grand restorer of failing energy. Esmeralda was at once active in our tent arrangements. All things must have their place.

“Now, Mr. Smith, look sharp, or I must give you a severe doing,” and Esmeralda’s dark eyes flashed fire, and sparkled with merriment and witchery. Sometimes, when we were a careless lounger about the tents, she would say, “Dableau! you are going in and out, in and out, and never doing anything.”

Then Noah might be heard, “What are you at, Zachariah; can’t you see where you are going to? I think you are making yourself too much of a man!” An observation which Zachariah would answer with “Dawdy, dawdy, fake your bosh;” and, making a succession of droll faces, would skip about in the rain, singing, “Fem de dura.” We will not answer for the correctness of Zachariah’s intended quotation from the Norwegian peasant girl’s song we heard at our camp near Holmen.

More people came wandering about, some looking at our donkeys and others staring at our tents. They were all of the peasant class, kind, homely-looking people. It was about a quarter to 7 o’clock when we encamped. Taking our places in our tents at about 9 o’clock we commenced our gipsy Norwegian song, with guitar and violin accompaniment. Then followed our song, “Farewell;” afterwards dance music, violin and tambourine. A tolerable number of peasants were seated on the bank opposite the entrance to the tent. They sat in the rain on the wet grass until we had finished. After much talking, in which the female voices certainly predominated, they shouted “Farvel.” The interest they seemed to take in our music was most amusing. They had such smiling countenances. One young peasant girl especially kept looking at each by turns, and then laughing, until we could hardly help relaxing our expression of insouciance. As they departed, a peasant kindly suggested a better spot for the donkeys to graze than where the gipsies had first put them. Music being over, we all retired to bed. Just as we were dozing away, Zachariah’s voice was heard: “Mr. Smith, sir!”

“What do you want, Zachariah?”

“I have got your key and pencil, sir.”

“Never mind, go to sleep!”

“But, sir, you can’t unlock your box without it. You must have it, sir. Otta clocken, more music, ha! ha!”

Then we heard scratch, scratch wildly at work, and presently Zachariah’s voice: “I can’t stand it! I cannot stand it any longer; these skeato’s will kill me!”

We must say our sleep was sound and undisturbed until half-past 6 o’clock. Much rain had fallen in the night. It was the first of July. Noah lighted the fire, and boiled the water. Two men came to our camp and had some brandy whilst we conversed with them in broken Norwegian. One was a traveller from Christiania. We told them that if they came again we should play our music at 8 o’clock in the evening. As we took our breakfast of tea, bread and butter, and potted meat, stray parties of peasants watched us with much interest. We gave several small children some biscuits. An intelligent peasant came and asked a variety of questions about the donkeys. Another brought his wife and children. A large party came before our dinner at 1 o’clock, and a short stout, well-dressed man, with a turban cap, discussed in an animated manner various matters connected with the donkey race. Their voices seemed constantly to mingle with our ideas as we wrote a letter to the gipsies’ friends, in which Esmeralda inclosed some beautiful wild flowers.

We sent Noah and Zachariah to the river to fish for dinner. When they were gone, a peasant boy came up with a large sack of hay, which he gave the donkeys. We were touched by his attention; for some time he silently watched them. Before he left we gave him a copy of our gipsies’ Norwegian song. He took us by the hand, and looked with such a kindly expression in our face, that we could not help feeling that the world, after all, was not so bad as we had thought it. As a substitute for vegetables, crystals of citric acid, dissolved in water, were occasionally taken by ourselves and the gipsies. Noah and Zachariah were full of fun when they came back from fishing at 1 o’clock, having caught six small roach and perch.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Zachariah, “Mr. Smith, I know some good flies for my fishing this evening. All right, sir;” and he danced a war dance on the turf till he fell backwards over a birch tree stump, to the great amusement of himself and the peasants who were watching us with continuous interest.

We had tea, fish, and balivas (gip. for bacon) for dinner. Sugar was a source of difficulty. In putting the sugar first into each pannikin before the tea was poured out, Zachariah was not considered an example of economy. Not that we were inclined to limit very strictly his penchant for it, but we were not sure where we might be able to get more when our stock was finished.

Esmeralda was busy. We were writing. Noah therefore officiated, whilst Zachariah, with a look of injured innocence, stood by, and said—

“I shall not have anything more to do with the goodlo” (gip. for sugar); a resolution we entirely agreed to.

Still Zachariah often had more than any of us, which he would occasionally acknowledge with “Thank you, sir,” “God bless you,” “Quite enough, sir,” as he stirred it up in his pannikin with an air of extreme satisfaction.

The bacon and fish at dinner were excellent; we hardly knew which was best. A peasant boy brought us a bundle of sticks for our fire. The sun became exceedingly hot. Esmeralda and myself went and sat in some shade near our tents. Zachariah found a shady corner under some rocks. Noah first looked out a few things in his tent for Esmeralda to wash. Then he afterwards stood in the shade of a birch tree, blacking his boots, and observed to Esmeralda—

“I shall not help my wife as Mr. Smith does you.”

“Well,” said Esmeralda, “what is a wife for?”

“For?” retorted Noah sharply, giving his boot an extra brush, “why, to wait upon her husband.”

“And what,” said Esmeralda, “is a husband for?”

“What’s a husband for?” exclaimed Noah, with a look of profound pity for his sister’s ignorance, “why, to eat and drink, and look on.”

It would seem to us that the more rude energy a man has in his composition, the more a woman will be made take her position as helpmate. It is always a mark of great civilization, and the effeminacy of a people, when women obtain the undue mastery of men.42 When Noah had finished blacking his boots, he went with Zachariah to take the donkeys for water along the road towards Listad As they turned, Noah and Zachariah astonished the peasants by racing along the road mounted on the donkeys, with their faces to their tails. Noah and Zachariah afterwards went fishing.

We lounged on an eminence writing our notes, and Esmeralda washed for us a shirt and collar, and some of her own and Noah’s things. We had a succession of visitors all the afternoon. Some wore red caps; all were deeply interested in the donkeys. In fact, if we could have kept them secluded in a tent, we might have made a large fortune by exhibiting them. We had, however, no wish to do so. Our peasant friends were welcome, and if our wild music gave them pleasure, they were welcome to that also. They certainly showed us much civility and kindness during our wanderings. We cannot forget them.

When we were at the tents at 6 o’clock, Zachariah had returned with two small fishes, and Noah with one of tolerable size. Having made a hurried tea, a large number of peasants collected, before 8 o’clock, about our camp. The music commenced at our tents soon afterwards, and then to give them an opportunity to dance, we went outside. There was a good space of ground close below our tents, but a tree was in the middle of the ground. This was at last uprooted by the peasants. Our beau of the village on this occasion was a thin, rather roughly-dressed, young man, but an inveterate dancer. The gipsies at once named him Arthur. If a house had interfered with the convenience of the dancers instead of a tree, it is possible that he would have pulled that down also. Of the females, two small girls were the best dancers; and they seemed thoroughly to enjoy themselves.

The dancers patronised the skip waltz. It was a curious scene. Three or four of the peasants were dressed in blue jackets with silver buttons and silver frontlets hanging from their necks.

My gipsies were particularly lively and in high spirits. The variety of costume, and any slight eccentricity of manner, was at once the subject of their criticism. We did our best to moderate their gaiety, and romany chaff, now and then as they played their wild music, we could hear.

“Dit a kei! (gip., look there) there’s Arthur!”

“Ha, ha; no it isn’t Arthur; that’s Johnny!”

“Ah, the sapeau (gip., snake)! Why, he’s got Crafty Jemmy’s nose!”

“Dik the gorgio in Uncle Sam’s stardy (gip., hat)!”

“Oh nei! oh nei! What are you a salin (gip., laughing) at?” “It’s our Elijah vellin (gip., coming) from Bosbury, a seaport town in the middle of England. Look at his chokas (gip., shoes)! Hasn’t he got bongy mouee (gip., ugly mouth)!”

“Dik that fellow’s swagler (gip., pipe)!”

“Arthur can dance! Now Arthur’s a-going it! Well done, Arthur!!”

Bang-bang went the tambourine, as the beau of the village whirled his partner round, to the admiration of the surrounding throng. There was no harm meant by our gipsies’ chaff. If anyone present had wanted their assistance, they would have been the first to give it them. It was quite impossible for them to remain quiet; naturally impulsive and gay, they must laugh in their lightsome moods. There were some young ladies, and apparently their brother, sitting near.

As we were standing with Esmeralda at our tents, whilst Noah and Zachariah were playing, a dark thick-set, heavy-featured old woman pressed through the throng round us. She had all the appearance of a gipsy, when she suddenly shook Esmeralda by the hand. We thought she was a Norwegian Zigeuner. Then she took hold of Esmeralda’s large necklace, and tried to take it off, before she could recover from her surprise. Immediately we saw what she was doing, we pulled her away, and she retired in silence through the crowd. We saw her afterwards, sitting on a bank, watching us.

It is ten o’clock, and our music ends, saying, “God nat (Nor., good night), god folk (Nor., good people).” We retired to our tent. Most of our visitors left. One young gentleman, who spoke English, said to Noah outside our tents, “A little more music.”

“I can’t, sir,” said Noah. “The master never has any playing after ten. You should have come before, sir.”

The young gentleman who had the young ladies with him then asked Noah what time we went in the morning.

“At 9 o’clock, sir,” said Noah.

One of the young ladies then inquired in English if Noah could tell fortunes.

“No,” said Noah; which no doubt was a matter of great disappointment.

Then the gentleman asked Noah his sister’s name.

“Agnes,” said Noah.

What next will he tell them, thought we, being anxious for him to go to bed.

Then one of the young ladies asked his sister’s age; and Noah told her sixteen. Then he was asked who we were. Not knowing how long they would stay—for we had to rise early next morning, and knowing that any curiosity would only get wide answers from Noah—we went out, explaining that we had to travel early, and we liked all in camp to go to bed in good time. They did not say much, but, wishing us good evening, they all left. The young gentleman spoke very good English. We were still troubled with a number of children, making a noise about our tents, until after eleven, instead of going when the music ended at ten o’clock. At last all was silence.

We were up the next morning at half-past 1 o’clock, enjoyed a good wash, lighted a fire, and had Noah and Zachariah up about 2 o’clock. We were anxious to give them all the rest possible; Esmeralda was called the last. For frokost, we had tea, fish, bread, and potted-meat; Esmeralda and myself had some citric-acid afterwards. Our donkeys were nearly loaded, and ready to start at 5 o’clock. We were just having a romp with Esmeralda and her two brothers, as we were packing up our things, and a merry laugh, when some men appeared at the fence near our camping-ground. They seemed much astonished, and rather disconcerted; probably, they expected to find us asleep. They lifted their hats, and soon afterwards left. Our donkeys loaded, we looked carefully round to see that we had collected all our effects. The main road was soon gained, when we descended from the steep ridge on which we had camped. We had now travelled more than five Norse miles from Lillehammer, or thirty-five English miles, as we proceed quietly along the road from Listad.

We could never tire of the beautiful valley of the Logan. Our mode of travel gave us ample opportunity to study its varied scenery. At any points of interest we could halt, without the thought of being behind-time at the next post station, or of being reminded by the Skydskarl that we were lingering too long. It was about seven o’clock; the morning was very sunny and pleasant as we came to a place said to be Tresgone. The name is not marked in our map. Noah and Zachariah went to a small log-house, near a mill, at the foot of a gorge, to purchase bread and butter. Directly the woman saw them, she shut the door with considerable haste; their Alpine stocks had created a sudden alarm. After reconnoitring them through her window, confidence was restored; she opened the door and did a stroke of business, selling us four loaves for fifteen skillings. A man on horseback, with white hair, kept with us occasionally for some miles; he had, naturally, white hair, like an Albino, and not the result of age. For some distance, at different points on the road, the peasants hurried from their work, and, with anxious faces, struggled to be in time to see our party pass; sometimes, an aged man, with serious weather-beaten face, wearing a red cap on his head, was awkwardly scrambling towards the road-fence, followed by a woman and children. At other times, two or three men would race along the road-fence and take up their position at some distance before us, waiting the moment when we should pass. In fact, at times, we almost felt as if we were marching past the saluting-point, leading a company at a review, though the group of peasants differed much from a staff of officers at a saluting-point; we had, nevertheless, to stand the test of what appeared to be a close and scrutinizing examination of our company.

At one time, Noah played his violin as he sauntered along. Occasionally, Zachariah was a short distance in advance, with the donkeys, and the peasants collected at the road side, would politely take their hats off to him, an honour Zachariah appeared much to appreciate. We reached Branvold,43 and at a station on the road side, we found we could post our letters. The house was remarkably clean and comfortable, and had, apparently, excellent accommodation. The civil pige found us a pen and ink, and went to call her young mistress, who had not yet left her room. We met a gentleman staying there who had been passenger on board the steamer on the MjÖsen Lake; he went out to look at the donkeys. The young post mistress took our letters; one letter was to the gipsies’ friends. She was a very agreeable, pleasant-looking girl, who spoke English with an admirable accent. We paid eight skillings, which she said the postage would amount to. Soon after we had left the station she came running to us, and said, “Mr. Smith, it is sixteen skillings;” and received the money. Shortly after, she came driving up in her carriole, and said, “Mr. Smith, I find it is sixteen skillings more.” In truth, we were not sorry to see her again, she was such a kind, pleasant, merry girl, withal neatly dressed, and good-looking. We laughed, as we held out the palm of our hand containing a number of Norwegian coins that she might count out what she wanted; nor did we omit to pay a just tribute to her knowledge of the English language. After the young post mistress had left us, we came along the road towards a large house, having more of those characteristics of the country gentleman’s residence than any we had yet seen. The house stood in its own grounds, at a short distance before we reached the turning from the main route to “Harpe BrÖ.” When we passed by it, the gentleman and his family were assembled near the entrance-gate to the grounds. He was a fine, tall, gentlemanly man, accompanied by a very good-looking young lady, who stood near him. She was the best-looking young lady we had yet seen in Norway. Two young gentlemen, we supposed to be sons, were also there.

The gentleman lifted his hat, and seemed to give us a kindly welcome; we returned his salutation. There was something pleasurable in such kindly feeling; we little think how much we can do in this world to lighten a lonely wayfarer’s heart.