“Commend me to gipsy life and hard living. Robust exercise, out-door life, and pleasant companions are sure to beget good dispositions, both of mind and body, and would create a stomach under the very ribs of death, capable of digesting a bar of pig iron.” George S. Phillips (January Searle).

THE DONTIND—ORMEIN—MOUNTAIN ROAD—OUR BIVOUAC—DELIGHTED VISITOR—THE WATER ELF—EXCITED GIPSIES—TAGE EN STOL—NORWEGIAN GIRLS—SUNDAY ON THE RAUMA—CARRIOLE TRAVELLING—COMING TO GRIEF—“SPILLE” A LITTLE—ESMERALDA’S BIRTHDAY—THE NORWEGIAN CLIMATE—THE SJIRIAGLNS—UNCOMFORTABLE BED—THE LARGE ANT.

It was a charming night. The Rauma foamed beneath and lulled us to sleep. The snow-covered and singularly shaped “Dontind” towered in the distance above the valley.

At seven o’clock the next morning we were up and had breakfast, tea, fladbrÖd, and butter. Whilst the gipsies were loading, we went to the log bridge, and viewed the picturesque fall of the Rauma, the “Soendre Slettefossen,” foaming through high and overhanging rocks. Returning soon afterwards to our camp, we found Noah and Esmeralda in high dudgeon. A gale at sea, a simoom, or even an earthquake, could only be compared to it. The gist of Noah’s wrong was some real or fancied neglect on the part of Esmeralda to pack one pocket properly. In travelling our tent-cover, rugs, wardrobe, and a number of minor articles, were packed into one pocket, which was placed on the puru rawnee, and formed a pad for the other things she carried to rest upon. To avoid injury to the animal’s back it was, therefore, very essential that all hard substances should be placed in the corners of the pocket, so that they should not bear upon the animal’s back. It was necessary to use great care, especially during the long and difficult journey we had before us. Pouring oil on the troubled waters of the boro panee (gip., sea), we started with the thermometer at 78° Fahrenheit. All soon subsided into tranquillity and friendly feeling.

The sun now became very hot. Everywhere we were greeted with the same excitement, and the donkeys were much admired; grass was at times given them, and a friendly welcome to ourselves. Descending the beautiful road on the right side of the narrow valley, with pleasant farms below us on the slopes to the Rauma, we reached the post station of Ormein. Beautifully situated as it is, this station would be excellent quarters, and a comfortable resting place for the lover of nature, and the fisherman. There was a general rush as we came up. The donkeys were surrounded, and water and grass were brought for them. We went into the station and purchased a large loaf of bread, some excellent crisp fladbrÖd, a pound of good butter, and two kinds of Norwegian soap, for one mark and twenty skillings. There was a bed in the kitchen, covered with an animal’s skin. The fire was made on a raised hearth, the chimney rising straight from it, but without contact with the sides of the room; so that there is great economy of heat obtained. As you look from the station to the “Alter HÖ” on the other side the valley, the picturesque vandfos, called Vermedalsfossen, dashes down the mountain side through wild and moss-covered craigs to the Rauma. From this place the Dontind or Storhoetten may be ascended. Leaving the kind and civil people of Ormein about half-past twelve o’clock, we continued our journey on the right bank of the Rauma. The road was still inclosed, and the immediate banks of the Rauma were cultivated for hay, potatoes, and grain, which seemed to thrive in sheltered situations. At length the mountains became more steep, lofty, and rugged on either side the valley, which formed a narrow flat through which the now level road ran. Coming to a gate we entered a space of wild broken ground open to the Rauma, which was close to the road. A very large mass of rock pitched on end, looking not unlike the representations of the celebrated English rocking-stone in Cornwall, stood not far from the gate, to the right of the road. The open green sward was margined by thick and tangled brushwood, rising immediately to the mountain precipices which overhung the valley. At a short distance beyond, the lofty mural steeps of a snow-covered mountain seemed to leave no possible outlet. Towering precipices of barren rock rose almost at once from the banks green with foliage on the opposite side to Rauma. Cascades fell in fleecy clouds of spray on either side into the valley below; we were never tired of watching them. The banks of the Rauma were low, the stream broad and broken in its course, and had a thousand rippling eddies and swirls formed by its rough and uneven bed. Birch-woods clothed the lower sides of the valley. One small log cottage in the distance, close to the road and near the river, was the only sign of human life we could see. The marks of bivouac fires under the shelter of the large leaning rock showed that it was a favourite halt for wayfarers.

The tents were pitched on a dry hillock near the low bushes beyond the leaning rock. We had just said to the gipsies that we should shortly see a peasant perched on a rock or on the top of a mountain, when two peasants immediately appeared, and some brandy was handed to them. One drank his glass with evident satisfaction, but the other pointed to his chest, so his companion swallowed his share. They got some grass for the donkeys, and afterwards left. A boy, who was travelling on foot with a satchel and his coat hanging from it, came from the road; he wore long boots much patched, home-spun brown trowsers, and waistcoat to match, with large black buttons having a flower on them in relief. Poor fellow, he was delighted with the animals, and for a considerable time sat watching them, with a smile of intense satisfaction on his countenance. The donkeys, we think, began to feel their social position in the animal world much elevated. The boy at last went some distance up the steep side of the mountain to get grass for them. He first ascertained from us that they eat grass, which he might have seen had he noticed what they were doing. Some weak brandy-and-water was offered to him, but he declined to drink it. The musical box was set playing near him as he lay on the grass, and he seemed delighted. Another boy came, and they seemed very reluctant to tear themselves away from our donkeys, but at last they left.

After a dinner of tea, ham, eggs, fladbrÖd, and butter, Noah washed his shirt, and went fishing with Zachariah. Esmeralda went to the river to wash some of our things, and we lounged by the tents. Several peasants came to see the donkeys.

The scenery of the valley was charming, and the evening wore on till six o’clock. First Zachariah returned dripping with wet, looking like a water elf fresh from the Rauma. He produced a grayling more than a pound weight, and some small trout, and related that he had nearly caught the grayling, and was getting it to the bank when the fly came out of its mouth. In an instant he plunged in, and threw it out. As he was changing his wet things, which we at once insisted upon, some people passed along the road who seemed much amused, and he had to play at hide-and-seek round the large rock to conceal himself. We rubbed him over with brandy, and he went fishing again.

Esmeralda, who had completed her washing, made tea, and whilst we were finishing our meal, some carriers came up and halted near the rock. They were informed they might have the use of our fire. Zachariah’s tea was put by for him. The carriers were rough, hardy men, well-dressed, and respectable in appearance. They had a light cart heavily laden. One of them sat down, and producing a quantity of fladbrÖd from a tine (pronounced teena) and a small wooden box of butter, commenced leisurely consuming his provisions. Most of the peasants we met chew tobacco. We often saw them produce a quid from their pockets, and, putting it in their mouths, spit in all directions. Snuff-taking did not seem to be a habit. The carriers said they had come from Veblungsnoes, and had halted to rest their horses, and would not remain the night. They were delighted with our tents, the interior fittings, and especially with the donkeys.

It was after ten o’clock when Zachariah returned with his eyes sparkling with fire, and seventeen small trout. The usual animated discussion arose between the gipsies as to who had caught the most fish. “Now then, Lucas,” Noah would vociferate, “I say you have only caught twenty-three.” “What, only twenty-three?” Zachariah would answer, his eyes wildly flashing with excitement, and shouting in a still higher key, “No such thing, Noah.” “Now you count, Mr. Smith; here are seventeen, and nine before, make twenty-six.”

What a picture study! wild valley, night-fall, two excited gipsies, ourself arbitrator, trout lying near on the turf, hanging rock, camp fire, gipsy girl standing by the tents, roar of river, dark gloom of precipices above our camp. Can we forget the scene? About ten o’clock several peasant girls arrived to lend more romance to the evening incidents. One or two old men in red caps also arrived. The night was beautiful; we sat down on the turf outside our tents, Zachariah boshamengro (gip., violin-player), myself with castanets, and Esmeralda with her tambourine. Bowing to the peasants, we said in our best Norwegian, “Ver so artig tage en stole” (be so good as to take a seat), pointing to the turf, upon which they sat down. After some music an intelligent-looking young Norwegian played some Norwegian tunes on an accordion he had brought. It was not in very good tone, but we were glad to hear the Norwegian airs he played. Then we suggested a dance.

“Ah!” said Esmeralda, “look at that Rackly a salin at Noah.”

Noah at once got up, and whilst a young peasant was apparently trying to prevail upon her to dance, Noah seized her round the waist; the ice was broken, and they whirled round in a polka on the turf. Then the young peasant took her for a partner; she was a nice-looking girl, but wanted rather more agility of step. The Norwegian girls, as a rule, want the elasticity of the southern belles. Norwegian girls have, however, a quiet and kindly expression of all that is good and sweet in disposition, and true-hearted feeling. What a contrast between them and the dark-eyed olive-complexioned girl of the south. Equally in contrast the warm-blooded animation of the southern girl, when roused by the excitement of some strong and sudden emotion.

Only one Norwegian peasant girl joined in the evening green-sward waltz. The accordion-player had his dance with the Rankny60 Rackly (gip., pretty girl), as the gipsies called her. We played two more tunes for them, and when we had finished we wished them good night, and they left. The carriers then departed on their journey, and as we were going to bed some more came up and halted for the night by the leaning stone. The newly-arrived immediately went to the donkeys, and got some grass for them. One man brought me something to drink, but we declined it with thanks. To one we gave some tobacco for his pipe, and, retiring to our tents, we were soon all asleep.

Another Sunday. We lay unusually late—nine o’clock. The morning was not inviting, but very dull and cloudy. The rain fell fast, and we could hear the roar of many waterfalls down the precipitous sides of the lofty mountains above us. The sound of the river and the roar of waterfalls in a wild valley were conducive to sleep. The gipsies soon had a fire under the shelter of the leaning rock. The carriers were gone. Our frokost consisted of tea, fried trout, bread, and potted tongue. After breakfast Noah and Zachariah rode the donkeys, in search of bread and butter. We stayed in our tent writing. Some peasants came, from time to time, to look at our camp and donkeys.

As we were writing before dinner, we observed several carrioles coming along the road en route towards Ormein. The carriole is a light easy carriage, admirably suited for a hilly land, and well adapted to the small sure-footed ponies of the country. The only objection we are disposed to make is the necessity of travelling along the road alone; if with friends, you post from one station to another, at some distance apart, without being able to hold much converse or communication. In this instance the carrioles followed, one after the other, at some short distance. As they passed our tents and the hanging stone, two of the travellers, in knickerbockers and Scotch caps, appeared to be Englishmen. The driver of one of the carrioles was dressed in black, and appeared to be a Norwegian. The animal he drove was rather larger than a pony, and apparently timid and shy. Suddenly the horse swerved, and the driver checked him rather sharply. In a moment both shafts broke through with a crash. The traveller got out; the horse remained still. We went down to the broken carriole, and said it was unfortunate. The traveller said something quietly in Norsk. Returning to the tents, Esmeralda gave me some rope. In the meantime two or three of the other voyageurs came back from their carrioles, including one of the Englishmen in knickerbockers. Three of the party seemed Norwegians. Very few words were said—they were men of action. In less time than it has taken us to write this, the broken carriole was fastened with the rope they brought with them to a stolkjoerre. The other travellers went forward, and getting into their carrioles, they were all soon out of sight. Noah and Zachariah met them as they returned, in pouring rain, from a farm, where they had purchased butter and excellent fladbrÖd. The people were very kind, and gave them some milk, and the donkeys grass. They were both very wet; but had no change. At two o’clock, a second tin of Australian meat was opened. We had tea, Australian preserved meat, potatoes, and fladbrÖd. The Australian meat was excellent, and a very good dinner we all made. From our tents we could see very plainly all who travelled along the road. During the afternoon a close carriage drawn by three horses abreast pulled up, and a lady and children inside seemed much interested. A gentleman outside said to them, the tent is waterproof. They all stayed for a short time, looking from the road at the fragile abri which sheltered us from the elements. Several peasants arrived, and immediately went to see the donkeys. We gave two of the peasants some tobacco, and one brought us a steel pen which we had dropped on the turf near our camp. They wanted us to “spille” a little; but it was Sunday, and we made it a day of rest. It rained heavily during the afternoon. Thick mist clung to the summits of the steep and lofty mountains. Noah, Esmeralda, and Zachariah all fell asleep till seven or eight o’clock.

A Sunday on the banks of the Rauma.—With how much pleasure we welcomed a day ordained for the world’s especial rest. To our party it was welcome after the wanderings of each preceding week. This Sunday was also Esmeralda’s birthday, and we had wished her happiness.61 One could not help feeling regret as we reflected upon the condition of these light-hearted wanderers. Esmeralda knew one prayer. We hoped on our return to England to have her confirmed. With all their waywardness, wilfulness, impulsiveness, irrepressible energy, and at times apathetic listlessness, careless alike of to-day or to-morrow, there were still some redeeming points of character, gleams of sunshine, which gave uncertain glamour to their mystic fate.

We talked to some of the peasant visitors as well as we could. They sat at our tent entrance. One young peasant came in with his pipe, and began to smoke and spit in all directions. When he understood that no smoking was allowed inside, he seemed annoyed at his own forgetfulness, and took his seat again at the tent entrance.

There is a high principle of character about the Norwegian people, which won our respect and esteem. It was not on one occasion, but many occasions, that we had instances of their strict probity. Many are poor; but they are honest. That conscious feeling of good intention, produces the manly bearing, and national independence of spirit, with which the Norwegian people are so largely imbued.

Many of the peasants wished particularly to know what the donkeys cost, and were often loud in their exclamation, “peen gioere,” “peen gioere,” as they walked round them.

Yesterday the temperature had been, at three o’clock, up to 90° Fahrenheit; to-day, in the evening, it was only 68°; towards seven o’clock it became cold. Between seven and eight o’clock we had tea of fried grayling, fladbrÖd, and butter.

After tea, taking Noah and Zachariah with us, we went to see a beautiful waterfall not very far along the valley, on the right of the road going to Veblungsnoes. The spray from it was at times blown in thin mist across the road. The steep, dark gray rocks of the “Sjiriaglns,” as we understood the name (it was so written down for us, but we do not find it marked in any of our maps), overhung the road. In the picturesque gorge of this part of the valley three diminutive log houses stood at some short distance apart from each other—the lowly shelter of the peasants of this rugged glen. What must be the life of these poor people! How hard their fare! but still they seemed contented. It may be they have a larger share of happiness than we could imagine possible. When we returned to the tents Zachariah tried to dry his trousers at a fire at the hanging rock.62 Noah and Zacharia had been very wet in the morning. Noah had no change of trousers. Zachariah’s were soon smoked and singed, as the legs were stretched out on two crossed sticks fastened together, giving them the appearance of a mawkin to frighten the birds. Ultimately, at bed-time, it was stuck up within the tents near the water-cans and other things. As we were going to sleep, the unfortunate mawkin fell down with a tremendous clatter amongst the cans. Noah said it was a ghost. Zachariah pushed it at Noah. Noah sent it spinning at Zachariah. “Now then, Abel!” “Here, Lucas!” Bang went the mawkin into the pans again. We got up to lay the ghost, and ejected the mawkin forcibly from the tent; but in doing so our leg accidentally caught a can full of water, which emptied itself into Zachariah’s blankets. Zachariah’s hilarity was at once damped. As we turned to go to sleep, we heard him in loud lamentation about his uncomfortable state, which he had partly originated.

It was very wet the next morning. We awoke at seven, and somehow fell asleep again. The gipsies would sleep for ever. To our astonishment it was ten o’clock. Our gipsies got frokost ready at eleven o’clock. The damp mist gradually cleared from the mountains, and we had tea, fladbrÖd, and butter for breakfast. Noah and Zachariah were dispatched after breakfast to the bondegaard they had been to on the previous day, and returned with a mark’s worth of fladbrÖd and butter. They were very kind to them at the farm. We made a sketch of one of the peasants’ lonely log-houses of the valley, whilst Noah and Zachariah were fishing for our commissariat. The narrow road winds close to the cottage beneath the broken cliff. A snow plough lies on the other side the road. A narrow inclosure separates the road from the Rauma.

What a wild solitary existence in the depth of winter’s snow must the peasant owner of this cottage lead!

For dinner we had soup made of ham, peaflour, wild sorrel, rice, Liebig’s essence, and the dried meat of Holiaker for the third time. We tried to purchase some potatoes from the peasant living in the nearest log cottage to our camp, but he had none ready to get up. The musketos had not troubled us much since we had camped in the valley; but we had met with two large black ants, or, as the gipsies call them, “creas,” near our tent. They measured exactly three-quarters of an inch long.

After dinner we all went out fishing, whilst Esmeralda was left in charge of the tents. Several peasants came to look at the donkeys during the afternoon. Some travellers, hastily proceeding, stopped their stolkjerrers and, looking wildly round, hastened to where the donkeys were quietly grazing.