THE NEW TENT POLE—WHAT IS INDIGESTION?—PEASANTS AT CAMP—A NEW FRIEND—HOLIAKER STATION—NORWEGIAN HONESTY—LŒSJE VAND—THE TETTERAMENGRY—AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY—THE GIPSY COLLAPSE—GOOD ADVICE—INTEREST IN DONKEYS—A MOUNTAIN DISTRICT—NO CHURCH BELLS—THE BOY’S QUESTIONS—THE KJÖLEN FJELDENE.

The old man presently brought a new tent pole, for which we paid sixteen skillings. We had left Dombaas about half-past 5 o’clock. Our present camp was called by the people, “Losere.” A few peasants came to our tents, and we must say presented a starved and worn appearance. They were a kind people, and brought us firewood. We had bread, butter, cold bacon, and tea. The peasants were told they could have some music when our meal was ended. How we enjoyed the evening scene when the peasants approached our fire! and we invited them, as usual, in our well got-up phrase in Norwegian, “Ver so artig tage en stole” (Be so good as to take a seat), pointing to the turf, which was the only seat we could offer them. The moon rose upon the summits and ranges of distant mountains beyond the valley. Its pale rays gleamed in the still night on the waters of the Logan. Nature was lovely in all her beauty. As our bivouac fire glimmered on the peasants’ hard-worn countenances, furrowed with lines of hardship, we could observe the pleasure which our music gave them. Wild though it was, it seemed to suit time, place, and circumstance. The violin, tambourine, castanets, and guitar are admirably adapted for the minstrelsy of the wanderer’s life. As our music ended they left, and we retired to our tents. The ground was high; the night was cold; we had little shelter; but we were now habituated to camp life, and did not feel any inconvenience. Our sleep was ever deep and refreshing. If any of our party had been asked, “What is indigestion?” we could not have given them any decisive answer.

The morning was fine and beautiful, as we rose at 7 o’clock. From the mountain where we had camped we could see Holiaker. Our breakfast consisted of tea, and bread and butter; at Dombaas we had given our gipsies citric acid and water; it is a substitute for vegetables, which we had not been able to procure since we left the MjÖsen Lake. Zachariah had refused to take any citric acid until he reached Dombaas; whether it was from want of vegetables we could not tell, but what with musketos, insects of various kinds, and possibly the want of vegetables, his skin was irritable to an uncomfortable degree, especially at night. This irritation of the skin we have known before in camp life. A friend of ours tenting with us the year before, had suffered very much from similar irritation of the skin not the result of musketo bites; sometimes we thought it was nettlerash, but in two or three days after our friend had quitted the tents the irritation had disappeared. In Zachariah’s case the gipsies and ourself thought he had been bitten by creas (gip. ants) or that musketos might have occasioned it; then it was assigned to want of vegetables or impurity of the blood. Should any one of our readers be able to suggest the cause and remedy we should be much obliged for their communication. In this case, as the Cushty Drabengro of the party, we prescribed citric acid, which we carried in crystals, and dissolved in water. One peasant brought a large basket of hay for the donkeys, for which we paid a mark. The basket conveniently fitted on the back like a knapsack. Before we left our camp, we thought it might be well to buy a sheep, for we had not purchased any meat since we left Christiania, and it might be prudent to save our commissariat.

We explained to the peasants by aid of our dictionary, and they seemed to understand our wishes, but whether they were afterwards unable to procure the sheep, or did not distinctly comprehend, is doubtful, for our negotiations were without result. Zachariah and Esmeralda played a few airs for the peasants whilst Noah loaded the donkeys.

Soon after we left our camp the route lay between enclosures. No lack of excitement on all sides; at one house a stout good-tempered woman and a dark good-humoured seafaring-looking man, probably her husband, came out.

Finding we wished to purchase something to eat, he went with us along the road to the Holiaker station.

Whether he was the master, or a friend of the house we could not decide. In the large clean kitchen he conversed with a tall, respectable, delicate-looking woman. At first she began to make coffee for us; then we explained through the seafaring man we did not want coffee, but bread, butter, and eggs; then she commenced to boil the water for the eggs. At last we made her understand that what we purchased the gipsies would take with them.

The donkeys were brought down to the station door, and we bought a quantity of fladbrÖd, twelve eggs, some potatoes, 5½ lbs. of what appeared to be the shoulder of very dry wasted-looking mutton, and some salt. It was proposed to have some treacle, but we could not find the Norwegian word in the dictionary.

As we put the different things we bought down in our note book, our seafaring-looking friend priced them; an old man came in whilst we were there, and our gipsies took the things to the donkeys. Whether we misunderstood the weight of the mutton, we cannot tell, but we gave him eight marks five skillings, though we thought the price rather high. Upon counting it, they honestly said we had made a mistake, and returned three marks; they also, we found, gave us the salt and six eggs into our bargain; many lands we have travelled, but never have we met with a more honest race of people than the Norwegians. Our things being packed away by the gipsies, we shook hands with these honnÊtes gens.

The idea occurred to us that they took us for a wandering artist. Farewell, honest people! For some time they watched us from the house, as we went along the road towards Holiaker church.

On our left we saw the Lake by Loesje, and at last came to a shallow stream in a large forest of Scotch firs open to the road. The soil was light and sandy; large masses of moss-covered rocks were scattered through the forest, and here and there we saw open glades amongst the trees. To a spot pleasantly secluded from the road the donkeys were driven. The day being Saturday, we expected our Sunday would be spent as a day of quiet and repose, but it was an illusory hope. The ground was covered by a kind of heath with foliage like our boxtree. We had no sooner unpacked, than the gipsies looked round and two gorgios were announced. It did not matter how secluded the spot, in less than two minutes one or two Norwegian peasants seemed to rise out of the ground; indeed if they had been smaller, and had not chewed tobacco, we should have taken them for fairies; two peasants were now gazing at our party.

The plaid bag was called for, and they quaffed brandy to Gamle Norge and filled their pipes with tobacco. One said something about a better place, but we were content to rest where we were now that we had unloaded.

The stream flowing to the Lake on the other side the road was conveniently near. A slice of fried ham and an egg each was consumed, and Noah and Zachariah were sent to the Lake to fish. When they returned at eight o’clock, Esmeralda had the tea ready; they had caught five trout, which were soon in our tetteramengry (gip. frying-pan) with four eggs. The news had spread. The peasants came in numbers; whilst Esmeralda was frying our fish our visitors earnestly chewed and spit in all directions about our fire; some went to the donkeys, some inspected our things, the rest closed in upon Esmeralda, who could scarcely complete her cooking.

We could see indications of a white squall on the usually smiling countenance of our gipsy Hobbenengree;53 sometimes she shoved them right and left, and said something about gorgios getting in her road.

“Now then!” said Esmeralda in a fume, “chiv the Metteramengery, just dik the gorgios all round. I can’t think what they all want to see.” It was very excusable, our peasant friends had never seen our donkeys, or tents, or gipsies before, still if they would have left us quietly whilst we were at tea we should have much preferred it. When we were seated near the fire, the peasant men, women, and children closed round us; it was difficult to decide, as we watched their countenances, whether they thought our meal well or indifferently cooked; it might not have been up to a dinner produced at Les Trois FrÈres, (we hope the Communists have spared it). Nor had we champagne frappÉ, but under the circumstances we found our tea from Phillips’s, King William Street, a very good substitute. Esmeralda was an excellent cuisiniÈre, especially when the gorgios gave her sufficient elbow room; nor had we any means of ascertaining their ideas as to the luxury of the diet. This with some other matters must remain one of the unsolved mysteries of this book. The intense and solemn earnestness with which our visitors watched every scrap we ate was interrupted by a peasant woman’s child, who was taken with a cascade fit, and very near made an important addition to Zachariah’s pannikin of tea. This closed rather abruptly our soirÉe. Noah went to pitch the tents, Esmeralda put up the tea things, and though rather reluctant, as she said, to play for the gorgios, at our request accompanied Zachariah on the tambourine. Our visitors seemed much pleased; Zachariah was irrepressible with Romany chaff, although I had cautioned him to be careful when we had visitors. The music ended, eleven o’clock came, no signs of any one leaving; what with Esmeralda shouting from the inside our tents at those who touched the outside, and Noah and Zachariah tumbling with wild merriment, we were au dÉsespoir, until taking hold of Zachariah, we threw him, after a brief tussle, into the tent, and caught him such a box that he was effectually silenced. There was a gipsy collapse. We informed the visitors we wanted to go to bed, and they quietly left, except some few who still clung to the donkeys at some distance away.

We began to think we should end our days as a showman, or the respectable manager of a strolling company of players. It was a beautiful moonlight night, as we strolled forth for a few minutes before retiring to rest. Just going to sleep, we heard Zachariah’s voice, in melancholy and watery tone: “Mr. Smith’s tired of me,” whimpered he; “next time he’ll try and do without me; some people change. Mr. Smith’s changed; I hope he’ll get another as will do as well.” We seized the opportunity to explain his real position, and his proper line of conduct; the gipsies had received much kindness from us, we shared with them our provisions whatever we had. Somehow gipsies, donkeys, tents, and accessories seemed to have become part and parcel of our existence. They gave us a dreamy happiness, as we floated along by mountain, river, lake, and forest. The gipsies’ wild energy never flagged; we could pull through any difficulty; wet and fine, storm and sunshine, still our tents found a resting-place in the wild scenes of a beautiful and hospitable land. The gipsies saw the force of our observations, and with “cushty raty” to all, we were soon in a sound sleep.

We did not get up very early; it was nearly nine o’clock; Esmeralda had a slight cold. The morning was very fine, and the last three or four days had been very warm. Noah went out, and found the peasants had already collected, and were increasing in numbers. Noah made tea, fried two excellent trout with four eggs, which, with bread and fladbrÖd and butter, formed our frokost.

The visitors were so numerous that we had breakfast in our tent. Whilst at breakfast a peasant would occasionally try to look at us through the opening we were obliged to have for ventilation. We were at last obliged to speak rather sharp to those pressing against our tent, and they were more careful; we had very little fault to find. We do not believe they would ever give intentional annoyance; in fact, the kindness we received on all occasions throughout our wanderings will ever be remembered.

As the sun rose our tents became very warm; we strolled out, dressed in our light blue flannel jacket, white waistcoat, light trousers, long Napoleon riding boots, and straw hat, which was the only one we possessed. It was a deliciously warm morning; on the opposite side of the lake we could see the KjÖlen Fjeldene rising above it. Our camp was in a large forest, extending towards the Stor Horungen. The Jora Elv, which we had crossed near Dombaas, flows between the Stor Horungen and HundsjÖ Fjeldet; then on its left banks are the mountains called “Sjung HÖ” and the “Tvoeraatind,” and on the right the “MjugsjÖ HÖ,” “Skreda HÖ,” and beyond are the wilds of the “Snehoetten”. The Jora Elv falls into the Logan near Dombaas. This extensive tract of mountain, forest, lake, and river is as yet, we believe, little known to anglers.

We bought twelve eggs from a peasant woman for twelve skillings; a boy brought six trout, which we also bought for twelve skillings. We confess to feelings of melancholy that, with three fly-rods and an immense stock of flies, in a country like Norway, we should so far lower our dignity as a sportsman as to buy trout. Still four hungry people to be fed much influenced the purchase. We hoped for better things, which might remove this passing shadow from the annals of our angler’s life.

It occurred to us to go to church, but there was the uncertainty as to the time the services commenced, and whether there would be any service on that particular Sunday. In some districts service is only held on occasional Sundays, as we remember to have been the case in some parishes in Wales. The country churches are built of wood; we only met with one exception. No church bells in the valley sounded over the waters of the lake.

A large number of peasants congregated round us as we sat down on a rock; wherever we moved there they came. As we lounged about near our tents, and looked round at the peasants of all sizes and ages, females with children in their arms, young girls and ragged boys wandering after us through the rocky mazes of the broken ground, like a comet’s tail, but not quite so luminous, we resigned ourselves to our fate. The peasants seemed as interested as usual, and we conversed as well as we could with them. They are a friendly, kind people. One boy spoke English very fairly, though he had never been in England; there was an intelligence about him which pleased us. Several questions were propounded, one was whether we had grapes in England—if we had much fruit—whether we could fish free—what kind of winter we had in England—if we had been in France and Germany? The boy was much astonished when we told him we had not only been to France and Germany, but all round the world. The boy was told, if he would come to our camp in the evening, he should have an English book as a present.

Notwithstanding frequent solicitations that we would give them some music, we remained firm, and gave our reasons. They asked if we had any objection to a peasant playing. They were told to please themselves, so that it was not close to our tents. The peasant had a large, powerful, fine-toned accordion, and, if it had not been Sunday, we should have managed a pleasant concert.

Noah and Zachariah had leave of absence till three o’clock; they returned at half-past two o’clock. Having crossed the lake in a boat, they had been for a ramble on the “KjÖlen Fjeldene.” A peasant boy had offered them the use of the boat if we stayed a day longer. Our dinner consisted of six fish and five eggs, fried in oil, with black bread and tea. Though our visitors were then reduced to about twenty-five persons, at three o’clock there were again fresh arrivals; one peasant woman brought the donkeys fresh grass. They hurried up in parties, perspiring in the warm sun, inquiring for “den asen.” Then they hastened as fast as they could over the rocks to where they were. Endless discussions were held over them; our poor donkeys must have been much astonished at their sudden importance.