MUSICAL PEASANT—CASCADES—THE LEANING-STONE—THE SERIOUS PEASANT—ZACHARIAH ILL—NO VENTILATION—THE MAGICIAN’S PEAKS—THE MANGEHÖE-“RAMULOUS”—ROMANTIC VALLEY—AGREEABLE VISITORS—THE SERENADE—FUTURE ROUTE—HORGHEIM—RIP VAN WINKLE.

The young peasant who played the concertina came and looked at the fence next the leaning-stone. He probably owned the adjoining enclosed land. Esmeralda said she thought he seemed doubtful whether part of his fence had not gone on to our fire. Esmeralda at once gave him some brandy, and he seemed pleased, and went and brought her a large heap of fire-wood. Strict injunctions had been given, that the dead wood, and there was plenty of it, should only be taken from the adjoining bushes.

A party of English travellers passed towards Veblungsnoes, and another towards Christiania. One young lady, who saw Noah fishing, asked if he had caught any. Our gipsies returned to tea at eight o’clock. Plenty of fried trout, tea, fladbrÖd, and butter formed our meal. Zachariah was very cold, and unwell at tea, with severe pain in his shoulders. We sent him to bed, and rubbed him with brandy, and gave him some to drink. One young peasant came, and seemed to have ridden some distance to see the donkeys. The valley of our camp was beautiful. Like Rasselas, we seemed completely shut in from the outer world; that portion of the valley towards Veblungsnoes, by the Sjiriaglns Fjeld, which forms a barrier of three lofty bastions of rock, jutting forth in rugged outline, and rounded summit, marked with streaks of snow.

Sterile crags of dark and green rock have here and there cascades, falling through the air, from the highest summits of these mural precipices. No egress seems possible from below. White fleecy clouds of mist gather on the upper cliffs, relieved by the green verdure which clothes the sides of the valley. The foliage creeps and feathers up the high ramparts of rock, till lost in the regions of desolation and sterility. What magnificent waterfalls leap forth from the hidden recesses of mist and cloud. They fall in thick white foam, are scattered in floating spray, glittering in a myriad of spangles, when illumined by the passing gleams of sun. Down, down, the white foam falls to depths far beneath. Birch-woods mingled with the fir stand forth from their mossy beds, and line the valley with the richest colouring. The gurgling waters of the Rauma wind their course along, fringed at the sides with birch and alder63, wild flowers, grass, and fern. Unceasing moisture gives the freshest green, and a luxuriant ground of varied colour carves forth a natural setting, to the romantic woods of birch, the juniper, and the Norwegian pine, unrivalled in conception, and inimitable by the art of man.

About eleven o’clock at night we were writing these notes by the leaning-stone, near the remains of our camp fire, when the old man from the nearest log cottage came up, and asked what o’clock it was. As he came noiselessly round the leaning-stone, we motioned him to take a seat, on a loose piece of rock near to us. When he sat down we noticed that he was one of those deep-lined featured men, who seem worn by exposure and hard living. Telling him the hour, he looked curiously at our gold watch, which we at once showed to him. This was supplemented by a glass of brandy, and some tobacco, with which he filled his pipe. As he sat by the embers of our fire, in answer to some questions about the winters in Norway, the peasant looked fixedly, and earnestly at us, and said, “Meget kalt, meget ice, meget snee,” and he raised his hand high above the ground. The tone in which he slowly said these words, in deep-marked emphasis, we shall not easily forget. Many of his countrymen, he said, went to America. The peasant then asked about England, and its climate. He told us there were many reindeer, and he went after them into the mountains. No one was allowed to shoot them from the 1st April to the 1st August. He remained sitting with us, and talking by the large stone. At last he suddenly asked what o’clock it was, and when we told him the hour, he wished us good night, and departed. It was nearly twelve o’clock when we went to bed.

During the night Zachariah was groaning and complaining; his head was very bad, and his stomach. Noah was up at twenty minutes past four o’clock, and he had breakfast ready at twenty minutes to five o’clock. We gave Zachariah a hot glass of brandy-and-water with sugar. Our breakfast consisted of the remainder of our trout and grayling. Zachariah could take very little to eat or drink. The morning was fine, the sun just tipped the edge of the mountains above the valley. We decided to go if Zachariah could be removed, when the sun had reached us in the valley. We got Zachariah out, and placed him in a snug corner under the leaning-stone, whilst the tents were struck, for it was about eight o’clock. When near the river, a tall young English traveller passed, who was anxious to catch the steamer at Veblungsnoes, and, saying the scenery was the finest he had seen, asked if we had caught many fish. He was soon after followed by a traveller in another carriole, whom we took to be his friend. The donkeys being loaded, we placed Zachariah on the packs of one, and were leaving, when a man came up just in time to see the donkeys, with which he was much delighted. We left him sitting on a rock watching us as we went out of sight.

The sun became clouded before we had proceeded far down the valley. The two first cottages we passed were shut up, but at the third we saw a peasant woman, who seemed much pleased when we gave her an empty bottle. The three small homesteads of this part of the valley were of the most humble description—far inferior to an out-building, or hovel of some of our second-rate farms in England. Ventilation is scarcely ever thought of, and cleanliness much neglected. We were told that a clever scientific Norwegian gentleman had lately given especial attention to this subject, and had written upon the sanitary condition of the Norwegian people. It rained heavily as we passed through a succession of narrow and romantic glens, of the valley of the Rauma. The peasants collected as usual with unabated interest to see our donkeys. Purchasing a mark of fladbrÖd and butter at one place, and a mark’s worth of butter at another, we passed “Kors,” and at a large house which we believed to be the Fladmark Post Station, they came up to the road, and grass was placed for the donkeys to refresh themselves. They all seemed to give us a friendly welcome. The Rauma formed most picturesque falls and torrents along its rough and broken course. Sometimes we passed through pine woods on its rocky shelving banks, and at other times through the cultivated land of some Bondegaard. As we travelled onwards all was enclosed from the road, and though inclined to halt for dinner, we could not find one convenient place. Our gipsies, notwithstanding the dismal weather, were as lively as usual, and wandered at times from the road in search of wild strawberries, cranberries, and bilberries. They had a plentiful harvest of bilberries, and even Zachariah’s voice lost much of the melancholy of its tone. At length we entered a wild valley shut in on the left by Troldtinderne, commonly translated into English as the “witches’ peaks,” but we were informed by an excellent authority that the translation should be the “magician’s peaks.” Nothing could be more wild and picturesque in outline. In front, as we advanced, rose the magnificent single peak of steep gray rock called the Romsdalshorn, rising to its lofty height from the hanging crags which formed a massive wall of rock to the valley in the distance below. On our right the dark precipices of the MangehÖe rendered the valley narrow and secluded. It was impossible not to feel the wild grandeur of the scene. The broken barren ground forming a hillock below the precipice of the MangehÖe seemed just suited for our camp. At a house beyond, the peasants were collecting in the road to see us pass, and, taking Noah, we asked if we could camp. A man said, “Ya, ya.” The donkeys were at once turned from the road across some rough ground. The hillock in sight of the road was gained, and our tents pitched in the heavy rain. Peasants—men, women, and children—collected to see us. Some well-dressed boys also came, and may have belonged to a pleasant residence, across the Rauma, which we had seen before coming to our camp. It was with difficulty we could moderate the loud energy of our gipsy housekeeper; indeed she required a very heavy curb to repress, at times, the too boisterous spirits of her wild free heart. Our tents being pitched, our middag’s mad was prepared. The Australian meat was excellent as usual, and fladbrÖd and butter completed the meal. The butter we had bought at the farm en route was not good. Our gipsies pronounced it bad, and it was ordered to be used for frying purposes. This was the only instance when we had met with indifferent butter; at other times we found the Norwegian butter exceedingly good.

The woman of the nearest house showed Zachariah where he could get water for our tea, and we bought from her two pounds of very good butter for two marks, six eggs for twelve skillings, some milk eight skillings, cream six skillings, and from another woman a small goats’ cheese eighteen skillings.

In the evening we had tea, and fladbrÖd, and the goats’ cheese. The cheese was good of the kind, but the gipsies pronounced it “ramulous.” It is not unusual to find in those classes of people, who may be said to be poor, proneness to criticise what is placed before them, and often to have a greater want of economy than many who have been accustomed to plenty. In this instance we spoke in its favour, and said it was good enough for our camp, and in a day or two the gipsies took a great fancy to it, and in a very short time it was all eaten.

After tea we gave the peasants, who collected at our tents, some music. How we enjoyed the picturesque scene; wild nature seems to give singular inspiration. The music of a mountain land has a melody peculiar to itself. It seems to come forth from the deepest recesses of the heart,—those fine vibrations in nature, which seem but the echoes of other worlds. First we sang them our gipsy song with violin and guitar accompaniment; then the “Mocking Bird.” Afterwards we played a number of airs. Sometimes we played the tambourine with the gipsies, sometimes the castanets. It rained, but what cared the Norwegian peasants for rain? There they sat till about ten o’clock, when we told them that after two more tunes we should go to bed. The music ceased; a kindly good night, and they left our camp. Then we watched the splendid outlines of the magician’s peaks above us, in the silent night, the stillness was only broken by the loud rumbling sound of falling snow from some shelving ledge, to the rocks beneath. As we surveyed the lofty “Skulnablet” above the Rauma, we decided to try some part of the Romsdalshorn or adjacent mountains if the next morning was fine. We retired to our tent, with all the pleasure of one who enjoys refreshing repose in the midst of nature.

It rained in the morning, and we could not attempt a mountain ascent. About nine o’clock we had breakfast, and sent Noah and Zachariah off to the Rauma fishing for our commissariat. We had tea, boiled milk, and fladbrÖd and butter for breakfast. The gipsies caught some fish for dinner,—Noah 10 and Zachariah 9, one being a grayling one foot two inches long. The morning was showery, and we wrote letters in our tent to post at Veblungsnoes; Esmeralda was cooking dinner. We noticed a young lady looking at our donkeys with the peasant boy from her stolkjÆrre; very soon afterwards she came up to our tents, with her three sisters and a tall young gentleman, her brother,—he did not appear in very strong health. They spoke to Esmeralda, and then looked into our tent, where we were writing our letters, we bowed, and they seemed rather surprised at the interior comfort of our tent. Then taking one of our gipsy songs, we presented it to one of the young ladies; she seemed much pleased at the unexpected present, and they tried to sing it to a tune. Taking our guitar we sang them the song; their brother took off his hat when we concluded. As we were sitting in our tent, they sang a Norwegian song very nicely together. The incident gave us much pleasure, as it was unexpected; one sister spoke English, she had a brother a clergyman on board some vessel in England, so Esmeralda informed us. They had not long left when the boy came back with the song, and a note on the back in pencil with Miss M.’s compliments, asking us to kindly write our name and date on back of song: we did so, and they went off in the direction of Ormein. After our dinner of fried fish, tea, fladbrÖd and butter, the gipsies were sent off fishing. The woman of the nearest house, which we understood was called “Monge,” brought a jacket to sell to Esmeralda; the purchase of two marks worth of fladbrÖd was preferred instead. During the afternoon we wrote letters, and after tea our correspondence still continued until 9 o’clock. The peasants again came, and our music commenced; this evening Zachariah with the violin, ourself guitar, Esmeralda castanets, and Noah tambourine. Our music is certainly improved. The people seemed to live very hard in this valley. One of the peasant boys, a lively little fellow, picked up a number of English words; we were asked for another song, and they left at 10 o’clock. After 10 o’clock the rain ceased, and the mist cleared away, and the night was beautiful; we had a serious consultation about our future route after we had reached Veblungsnoes. On looking at our maps, it was quite clear we had a very short time to accomplish the distance to Christiansand; still we did not like to give it up, and decided that if we could get over some mountain track from Gryten to Skeaker we might yet reach Christiansand before the end of the summer.

The morning was fine, we were up about 7 o’clock, and bought from the woman of the nearest house some very nice thin sweet fladbrÖd cakes, stamped in relief, for one mark, and also some cream for 12 skillings. A man came, and we paid him what he required, 36 skillings, for our camp accommodation on his ground. The tents being struck, and the donkeys loaded, we were en route about 10 o’clock; before we reached the station of Horgheim we were overtaken by the Miss M——s and their brother; they had been to see the waterfall near Ormein; we came up with them again at Horgheim, and asked their advice about our route from Veblungsnoes over the mountains. In answer to our inquiries, they said gipsies were sometimes seen about Veblungsnoes; when they were told our gipsies’ names and ages, they were much pleased with the name of Esmeralda. The young lady, who spoke English, said that Mr. Sundt had interested himself very much with the gipsies, and had written upon the subject. We told them we had a rÉsumÉ of Proesten Sundt’s works, and were also very much interested on behalf of the gipsy people.

They told us they were going to take steamer at Veblungsnoes, and passed us soon after we left Horgheim. As we followed the road round the base of the Romsdalshorn, we came to some waste ground open to the road, and partly covered with bushes. The donkeys were driven to a shady spot near a small stream of water. The Magician’s peaks rose immediately above us; at irregular intervals, we heard about its summits a noise like distant thunder, the sound was produced by falling masses of snow loosened by the summer sun; we could almost imagine ourselves in the Catskill Mountains, where Rip Van Winkle met Hudson and his spectre band. A witchery seemed to hang about those grey fantastic peaks. The middags-mad consisted of fried cheese, tea, fladbrÖd and butter, and potted tongue. We can assure our readers that few can realize the luxury of lounging on soft mossy turf, after a pleasant meal, though simple it may be, near a rippling stream, shaded from the mid-day sun, at the foot of lofty and picturesque mountains. Half listless and dreamy, We gazed on the singular outlines of the Magician’s peaks; a thousand spells of enchantment seemed to chain the spirit to an absence from all care, trouble, anxiety, and woe, which is wearing to the grave three parts of the mortals of this world! All our gipsies were at once in a delicious state of unconsciousness, in tumbled heaps, as part of the baggage, lying on the turf around.