Two men with carts passed whilst we were resting, and they halted to look at our donkeys.

It was nearly 2 o’clock, when myself and Noah went up to the wooden seat to load the animals. As we were standing by our things, a carriage passed, a gentleman driving with apparently his son, asked if we were going to camp there, we told him we were going on; He asked how many miles we travelled in a day, and we answered fourteen or fifteen. They wished us a pleasant excursion, we wished him bon voyage, and, lifting our hats, he drove on. Two donkeys were packed, and Noah brought up the third. Where’s the pocket? said Noah, looking rather wild. “Pocket?” said we, “isn’t it among the things?” No, sir, we never took it off; “it must have slipt off somewhere.” In fact, we had not taken the pockets off two of the donkeys, but one pocket had been pushed off by the Puru Rawnee, against the road rails, whilst we were at lunch, and Noah had placed it by the seat; what had become of the other we could not tell; we both went some distance along the road where they had been browsing, but could not find it. Esmeralda was much enraged. All her things with Noah and Zachariah’s scanty stock, and their sheets, tent blankets, and sleeping blankets, were also in the lost pocket. We went up to the house, and managed to explain to two women the position we were in. Noah said: “Sir, it must have been taken off, for there is no mark on the road where it has come down.” Esmeralda fixed her suspicions on the unfortunate cart drivers, who had been looking at the donkeys; we repudiated the idea, and said they were driving the wrong way to have done so. A vigorous search was made, with the help of the younger peasant woman, amongst the bushes of the steep bank, between the road and the river, where the two donkeys had been also wandering, but no pocket could be found.

We decided to go on. To the young peasant girl, who seemed as anxious as ourselves for its recovery, we gave a mark, and an address, so that the pocket, if found, might be sent to Nystuen, to the “Herren mit drei asen.”44 Esmeralda rode one donkey, and in no very enviable frame of mind, we hurried along at a rapid pace.

Noah exclaimed, “I could sit down and cry, sir. I don’t want no tea—I can’t eat.”

“Well, I can,” said Esmeralda, boiling with indignation. “I know it is taken; we shall never see it again. My small smoothing-iron, I would not have parted with it for anything, I have had it so long; and my dress—” and she half gave way to a flood of tears. “It will do them as has taken it no good.”

Zachariah had just joined us from the river without a fish.

“Ah,” said he, in a weeping tone, “my pretty dicklo (gip. handkerchief) is gone.”

I believe this handkerchief constituted nearly the whole strength of his wardrobe.

“It is fortunate,” said we, “both pockets were not lost. We must manage as well as we can; some shelter is left, and all our provisions. It might have been worse. You shall have more blankets, Noah. We are quite sure the pocket has not been taken; they are honest in Norway—far more honest than most other countries we have travelled.”

So we pushed along till we saw a blacksmith, and two other men standing at the road side. We explained our loss to them as well as we could. They pointed to a fir wood above us as a convenient camping-ground, but we wanted to proceed on our journey, and went on. At the next place we came to, we purchased four loaves of bread for fifteen skillings. At one large house we passed, near the road side, a large number of persons were assembled, probably at some fÊte. There was a general rush to see us. When we came to a large wooden water trough on the road side, some girls who saw us, ran down the meadow above; they were great loosely-dressed peasant girls, who laughed at us immoderately.

“What are the sapeaus (gip. snakes) crying about?” said Esmeralda, in no very good temper.

At any other time she would have laughed with them.

“Ah! the Bongy mouees” (gip. ugly mouths), shouted Zachariah. “They were tolerably well slap-dashed in Romany, as I have no doubt we were good-humouredly in Norwegian.”

We had not gone many yards from the water trough, when the young woman we had seen at our mid-day halt, came running round a corner of the road. She seemed half fainting and exhausted, and, staggering to the water-trough when she saw us, she dashed some water over her face, and hurriedly drank some. We at once stopped the donkeys, and the girls above the road ceased laughing. They seemed puzzled at the scene. We went to the poor girl, who said, when she was able to speak, she had found the pocket, which had slipped off the donkey close to the river’s edge. It was lucky it had not rolled in. Being satisfied from the things she found inside the pocket, that it belonged to us, she had followed us with it, and at last left it at some place on the road, so that she might more quickly overtake us. It was decided that Noah would take one of the donkeys, and go back with the peasant girl for the pocket. We were profuse in our thanks to her; she was a good, honest girl. We don’t think our gipsies will ever again believe, that such a thing as dishonesty, is possible in Norway. Pulling out a large handful of money from our pocket, we pressed it into the girl’s hands. She wished to give part back; it was too much, she did not like to take it all. We would have no denial; as she was returning she took out her handkerchief in which she had placed the money, and again offered us part; she did not like to take so much. We made her put it back. Under such circumstances what cared we what the sum was; we felt inclined to give her all we possessed, she had been so honest. How much inconvenience we might have experienced, but for the activity and kindness of this Norwegian peasant girl. Shaking her heartily by the hand, she returned with Noah. We may never meet again; we do not even know her name. Yet there is a world beyond this. May her fate be with the blessed of a future and eternal life. Continuing our route, we left behind us Burre, and the turn to Kvikne. It may easily be imagined we went along in much better spirits; all was sunshine. Noah would follow with the lost pocket, and find us in our camping-ground. Patrins,45 intelligible to our gipsy party, were strewed as we went along the road. Pieces of grass,46 to all appearance scattered carelessly along the route, yet they had a meaning, and a language which a gipsy easily reads. The points of the grass indicated the way we took.

Although anxious to finish our day’s journey, we could find no convenient camping-ground. We met the gentleman we had conversed with in the morning. His son descended from the carriage to lead the horse by the donkeys. Kindly salutations were exchanged. Noah said that when the gentleman afterwards met him, he said, “Your master seems a pleasant gentleman.”

“‘Well, sir, he’s always the same,’ I answered, and the son gave me a cigar, whilst the gentleman sent his kind regards to you, sir.”

Our camp rules were relaxed, and Noah was of course allowed on this occasion to smoke. We continued our way up a narrow gorge between high mountains, but did not find any convenient camping-ground. In the distance we saw log houses near the river Logan. These were Storklevstad, Viig, and Qvam. As we descended the road we noticed a rough narrow way on our right, with a telegraph post in the centre. Zachariah went and reported that it led to a large common extending to mountains beyond. Esmeralda and myself were at first inclined to continue our route. As we were considering, a young man having the appearance of a carpenter came by, and we asked him if we could camp there. He said “Ya, ya,” and the lane being too narrow, and awkward for the donkeys to go up loaded, the man helped us, very kindly, to unload our heavy packs, and assisted us to carry them to a rock on the common; we gave him two demi vers of brandy. The distance we had travelled had been long, the weather seemed inclined for rain, and we were glad to get in for night quarters. This corner of the common was bounded by hedges. Under a thick high hedge on the common side we made a fire, and our tea was soon ready, with ham fried in oil, and bread. Noah came in time for tea, and, selecting a camping-ground on the common, put up the tent-rods. The moorland, extending up a mountain, was covered with large masses of rock and low bushes. Visitors soon came. An old man with a wallet gave our donkeys some bread whilst we were at tea, and we gave him some brandy. Women and children came, and were very civil. Our tents were soon pitched, and arranged, and our things carefully stowed away. The waterproof was so placed over our tents, that our visitors were obliged to sit down, in order to see us through the opening.

Noah searched for his tambourine, but it could not be found, to his consternation; we came to the conclusion that it must have been left on the hedge bank near the water trough. Noah was loud in his lamentation, when a peasant suddenly brought it to the tent. We had left it where we supposed, and the peasant honestly restored the tambourine. We gave him a good recompense with many thanks, though he did not seem to wish any money reward. We had seldom met such kindly people. Gladly we commenced playing our music, and having recovered all our things, we were much pleased to find ourselves in a comfortable camping-ground for the night. Scarcely had we commenced playing, than the crowd of people increased round our tents. It was as much as we could do to keep them from crushing the tents in. One little man in spectacles, and a curious turned-up hat, with a knowing comical expression of countenance, came crawling into our tent on all fours. First he looked up at Noah, then at Zachariah, then at Esmeralda, and then at myself. We did not stop our playing. He put up his finger as a signal for us to stop, but we could not interrupt the tune. Then he expectorated freely on the intervening space in our tents; fortunately, that part was only turf, but the absence of saliva was at all times preferred. Then he stared curiously through his spectacles, being still on his hands and knees. Some village magnate, thought we. Then he suddenly summoned all his energy, and asked loudly all kinds of questions in Norwegian, whilst we continued our music. We thought he was slightly intoxicated, but it may have been an eccentricity of manner. He seemed to know some words of English. Noah said “Don’t know” to most questions. We could distinguish the word Tater, and Noah said “shoemaker,” and nodding at Zachariah, “cobbler.” Then he addressed some question to ourself, to which we answered “Nei, nei.” “Jeg gaae Romsdalen,” still persevering, he pointed to Esmeralda, who was rattling her tambourine, and he seemed specially anxious to know what part she took in the economy of the tents. At last he was quiet for a short time, and some one who did not like his attempted interruption of the music, pulled him out by his legs. Alas! he soon returned, crawling in again to the tent, expectorating as usual. Noah seemed his grand point of attack. Addressing Noah, he pointed to us with a look of triumphant discovery, and said, “Artistique,” but Noah did not seem to comprehend.

We are afraid his pertinacity met with very little reward. A considerable number of persons continued round our tents, and we finished music towards 10 o’clock. Then our visitors wanted more music. It was very complimentary to our musical talent, but we did not play after 10 o’clock. One young man who spoke some English, came to us, and asked to have more music. We explained that we had been up at 2 o’clock that morning, and did not allow music after 10 o’clock, and wanted to go to bed. Our visitors did not go for some time, but kept talking, and making a noise, until nearly 11, when we gladly fell asleep.

Another Sunday. We welcomed the day as we ate our breakfast of tea, potted meat, and bread. Then the word was given that the gorgios47 were a vellin. Many visitors soon collected, who were so curious, that one of our party had to stand at the entrance to the tents during the morning. A young man in long riding boots and horseman’s cloak, with a whip in his hand, speaking English and German, informed us that an English captain would shortly pass if we liked to see him. We said if he were going to Lillehammer he might render us a service. An intelligent young Norwegian peasant said he would let us know, when the captain came along the road. We conversed some portion of the morning with our visitors, and added to our knowledge of Norsk language.

At last the young Norwegian came and said the captain was come. We took Noah and the young peasant with us, and started towards the village of “Qvam.” After a sharp walk we reached a post station on the road side near the river, and leaving Noah and the peasant in the large kitchen with a bottle of “Baiersk Öl,” we went into an inner room to see the captain.

The officer, whom we expected to find an Englishman, was Norwegian. The French language was at once our medium of communication. We quickly explained that we had lost two hats between the Honnefos and Moshuus, and if en passant he heard of them, we were anxious to have them forwarded to Nystuen, and a handsome reward would be given. He looked at our route on the map. Monsieur le Capitaine was just going to dinner; a fine pink trout was served up. The captain asked us if we were going to dine, but was informed that our dinner waited us at the camp. He said he should be happy to inquire, and should meet us next morning, when he was returning. The captain spoke French very well, and at first sight we should have taken him for a French officer. There was a gentlemanly frankness about him which pleased us. Although not tall, he was of compact build, strong, and energetic, much indication of prompt and rapid action—one prone to vigour of thought, and quickness of decision. He possessed the bearing of a military man. We regretted we could not see more of him. Giving him our card, and shaking hands, we parted.

Noah and the Norwegian were allowed another bottle of “Baiersk Öl” on our return to the kitchen, and taking a sip to drink “gamle norge,” we immediately left.

The peasant returned with us. At a short distance from our camp, the village magnate came forth from a house, still wearing his curious turned-up hat. The little man seemed rather pleased to see us. As he advanced with a comical expression of countenance, he appeared to have something of importance to communicate. We politely paused a moment. He wanted to—to—“sell us a cheese!”

The peasant took a share of our dinner which was ready in camp. We were obliged to take our dinner inside our tents, on account of the number of visitors. They were never absent. It was a matter of conjecture whether they ever ate anything themselves; they seemed to be at our camp from morning till night. Our sensations were probably similar to those formerly experienced by the lions in Wombwell’s well-known menagerie, when viewed at feeding time.

Esmeralda had the soup ready, which consisted of white beans, pea flour, rice, and Liebig’s essence of meat. Our peasant, as he sat on the grass near us, with his bowl of soup, seemed thoroughly to enjoy it. We gave him some English Cheddar cheese, from Hudson Bros., which seemed to astonish him; and we heard him say to our interested visitors “meget godt” (very good).

Whilst we had been absent, one young fellow, who spoke a little English, came to our tents, and presuming too far upon Esmeralda’s good nature, received a severe blow on the shoulder with a stick, which shut him up. Probably to raise his spirits, he asked Zachariah to give him some of his master’s brandy, which resulted in a sharp answer, and he left the camp.

During dinner time a large number of visitors carefully watched our smallest movements. We had no idea we could possibly meet with so much solicitude as evinced, by the good people of Storklevestad, Viig, and Qvam.

After dinner, leaving our gipsies in charge of the tents, we retired to the mountain, to enjoy some quietude, and contemplation. How we watched the beautiful scene before us! The Blaa Fjeld, and the picturesque river Logan! The nature of this world, as God made it, is ever beautiful. Who can tire of its contemplation?

When we returned at 6 o’clock, throngs of visitors—as a German would say, “Immer! Immer!”—were grouped about the tents. Esmeralda was at the fire preparing for tea, with several young fellows buzzing about her. We seemed to come like a cloud upon their sunshine. Their fun was harmless, but obstructive to our chances for the next meal. Esmeralda was sent into the tents to get the tea things ready. Noah soon brought the tea, and we did not go out again. Our visitors wandered about round and round our tents, sometimes gazing at the donkeys, then returning, till about half-past 10, when they all left.

How calm and quiet the Norwegian night, when the hum of voices is hushed! How delightful, as we looked forth from our tents! Then we distinguished three figures gliding over the moorland towards us. They approached; it was about 11 o’clock. There was the bright-eyed, good-looking Pige, whom we had noticed at our tents during the day, without shoes or stockings. Now she had some stockings on, probably borrowed from some friend, to give her a more respectable appearance. She was followed by a little boy and girl; and as she hovered near our tents, she pointed to Noah, and then towards her cottage in the distance. She made love by signs. In vain we wished her “good night.” Poor girl! She still lingered, sometimes pointing to herself, and then towards the village.

We were just going out to persuade her to go home, when Esmeralda asked, why we should trouble ourselves about her.

“Why should we?” We at once gave up the diplomatic mission. Zachariah was sent outside the tents instead, and made signals for her to go. Smiling, she said, in a clear, pleasant voice, “Farvel, adieu!” and, kissing her hand, left.

Oh, no! she was quickly back again, followed by her Lilliputian retinue, who floundered after her among the rocks. There she lingered like the siren of the Rhine. Noah was fortunately spell-bound in his tent. Who knows, if he had gone, he may at this moment have been, a denizen of Storklevestad! She again seemed going from our tents.

Thank goodness! we are now quiet. Vain delusion! “Farvel, adieu!” She was again standing on a rock near our tents. How she lingered! Perhaps Noah might change his mind. “Farvel, adieu!” we said. “Farvel, adieu!” the gipsies shouted. She loved—she lingered. Noah came not. At last she went; but we could see her, as she went across the moorland, at times turn, and stand irresolute; till the very last, “Farvel, adieu!” of the Norwegian peasant girl died upon the wind, and we all went to sleep.