CHAPTER XXII.

PRIMITIVE WEIGHING MACHINE.

The station of Stueflaaten stands upon a rise of ground forming a kind of promontory, round which the road circles, so that you can walk up one side to the station and descend on the other into the road. There is a sort of balcony, with seats round it, and steps up to it, in front of the entrance door. A very civil hostess—we took her for such—met us from the kitchen. They had also an inner room, in which a large fire was burning. Our stores were replenished with three marks’ worth of fladbröd, potatoes, and twelve eggs. The people of the station came down to see our donkeys. At a short distance from Stueflaaten the route descends the side of steep rocky cliffs by a zig-zag road cut throughthe rocks. A large expanse of fjeld and forest, broken and intersected by rushing torrents, leaving nothing but streaks of white foam visible in the distance, converged to the deep, deep, narrow romantic valley we were now entering. The day had become fine and beautiful. We gazed in silence as we commenced our descent down the road, carried in a slanting direction to an angle, so as to render the way less difficult and steep. At a very short distance after we had turned the angle of the road a halt was called. In a recess covered with wild flowers, and bushes on the top of the sloping bank, above the road, we found sufficient room for our middags-mad.

The broken bank was overhung by steep rocks. The fire was soon lighted. Esmeralda peeled some potatoes. An excellent soup was made from our stock of yesterday, to which was added the dried meat from Holiaker, to be boiled a second time with potatoes, Liebig’s essence, and a quantity of wild sorrel. What a beautiful scene! What numberless streams dashing in their deep-worn watercourses into the blue waters of the Rauma, which loses itself in the deep ravine of the narrow valley; so we stayed until it was found to be six o’clock. Hastily loading again we followed the gradual descent of the road. Before us rose the singularly shaped mountain, said to be the Dontind.59Its shape is peculiar, with its escarped precipices and snowy summit. A very picturesque waterfall came dashing down the rocks to our right, and close by stood a very small wooden mill, with its simple and primitive method of grinding. The miller was there as we lookedin, and had just room to stand inside. He was grinding oats. If many articles of food are not so fine in quality in Norway, there is one satisfaction, that what you have is generally genuine.

At last we came to where the Rauma, at a short distance from the road, enters a deep gorge, and forms the beautiful fall of the Sœndre Slettefossen. The river passes through a deep chasm of rock, and is spanned by a narrow log bridge. Not far from the fall, on the opposite side of the road, we found some rough broken ground at the back of a rocky cliff. An old carriage-way had once gone through the rocks, but was now stopped up, so that we found ourselves on a comfortable platform above the main road.

The view was beautiful. The donkeys were driven up, and quickly unloaded. An old peasant man and woman, and one or two children were there, as if they had been forewarned of our arrival, and were ready to receive us. Out came our silver-mounted brandy-flask. It was of handsome spiral shape and formed of glass. How it escaped being broken we could never make out, but we have it now. The old man and woman drank their brandy, and seemed much pleased. They plucked some grass to feed the donkeys. Very soon other peasants came, and a reindeer-hunter, who spoke some English. The hunter was a very civil intelligent man; he could read English, and spoke it tolerably well, telling us there were many reindeer, and he would go with English gentlemen shooting them.

Our evening meal was soon ready, four eggs, fladbröd, butter, and tea. The peasants were told that after our tents were pitched they should have some music. Twoof my tent-rods were broken, and we had to splice them—. In consequence of the loss of our kettle-prop we were obliged to make holes for our tent-rods with the sharp point of one of Tennant’s geological hammers. Whilst the tents were being pitched we continued ournotes de voyage.

The peasants were not numerous, but they were appreciative as we played. It was interesting to watch their kindly countenances as they gazed on the nomads, with their tents and donkeys, on the sheltered platform of a rocky cliff above the Rauma. When our music ended, and we wished them good night, they did not remain about our tents, but quietly left us to take our rest.

“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 “Sœndre 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 onepocket 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 stationto 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 Storhœtten 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 humanlife 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 Veblungsnœs, 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, Noahseized 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 Rankny60Rackly (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. Thegipsies 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 roaden routetowards 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 othervoyageurscame 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 stolkjœrre. 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 afterthe wanderings of each preceding week. This Sunday was also Esmeralda’s birthday, and we had wished her happiness.61One 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 giœre,” “peen giœre,” 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 Veblungsnœs. 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.62Noah and Zacharia had been verywet 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 theroad. 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.

“He checked his steed, and sighed to markHer coral lips, her eyes so dark,And stately bearing—as she had beenBred up in courts, and born a queen.Again he came, and again he came,—Each day with a warmer, a wilder flame;And still again,—till sleep by night,For Judith’s sake, fled his pillow quite.”Judith, the Gipsy Belle.ByDelta.

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.

CAMP AT LEANING-STONE, SJIRIAGLNS.

A party of English travellers passed towards Veblungsnœs, and another towards Christiania. One young lady, who saw Noah fishing, asked if he had caught any. Ourgipsies 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 theouter world; that portion of the valley towards Veblungsnœs, 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 Veblungsnœs, 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, andcleanliness 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 farmen routewas 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 sixskillings, 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, wedecided 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 Veblungsnœs; 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 tokindly 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 Veblungsnœs. 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 wereen routeabout10 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 Veblungsnœs over the mountains. In answer to our inquiries, they said gipsies were sometimes seen about Veblungsnœs; 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 arésuméof Prœsten Sundt’s works, and were also very much interested on behalf of the gipsy people.

TROLDTINDERNE,MAGICIANS’ OR WITCHES’ PEAKS.

MAGICIANS’ OR WITCHES’ PEAKS.

They told us they were going to take steamer at Veblungsnœs, 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 themid-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.

“For the dance, no music can be better than that of a gipsy band; there is a life and animation in it which carries you away. If you have danced to it yourself, especially in a czardas, then to hear the stirring tones without involuntarily springing up, is, I assert, an absolute impossibility.”64Boner’sTransylvania.

Boner’sTransylvania.

THE INVALID—RESTIVE DONKEYS—FIVA—AAK—VEBLUNGSNŒS—THE NORWEGIAN FARMER—THE GRASSY KNOLL—A NORWEGIAN TOWN—THE FJORD’S SHORE—THE VEBLUNGSNŒS’ BATHS—HERR SOLBERG—HOMME GALANT—MUSICAL CONVERSAZIONE—GIPSY MUSIC.

Supremely happy in our wandering existence, we contrasted, in our semi-consciousness of mind, our absence from a thousand anxious cares, which crowd upon the social position, of those who take active part, in an overwrought state of extreme civilization. How long weshould have continued our half-dormant reflections, which might have added a few more notes upon the philosophy of life, we know not, but we were roused by the rumble of a stolkjærre along the road; it was quite time we moved on towards Veblungsnœs, and the gipsies began to get our things together. The stolkjærre stopped. A tall pale invalid man descended; he struggled through the bushes to where we were, though the exertion evidently cost him much, but he conquered; he came, and he saw the donkeys. A faint smile lighted up a countenance, expressive in its deep-lined features, of a once firm and determined will, but now marked with the last stage of consumption. Enveloped and wrapped up in dark clothes, wearing gloves, long boots nearly to his knees, although in the height of summer, he surveyed with a quiet smile our donkeys, ourselves, our gipsies, and our baggage. He had a female with him whose countenance was the exact expression of anxious care, and a young man who seemed astonished at the weight of the baggage. What was to be done to show our hospitality. Lucky thought; out came the quinine, a small tumbler filled with water, and the white powder was mixed in it; we intimated that it might be of benefit. Poor fellow! hewanted a strength-giving potent draught; it could do him no harm, it might do him some good. Taking a sip ourselves, and handing it to him, he drank it every spot. How did he know that, like Rip Van Winkle, he might not have fallen in with another Hudson and his band, and would sleep for twenty years beneath the shadow of the Magician’s peaks. The tall, careworn-looking man handed me back the glass, and seemed much pleased. We gave him the tin cannister which had contained our potted tongue, with all the wonderful hieroglyphics generally scrolled outside: it was a parting souvenir of the nomads. Just as he had turned to go, the tarno-rye made a dash through the bushes, with Zachariah and Esmeralda dragging, fighting and struggling with him; crash, crash went the bushes close by us; the invalid was nearly frightened out of his boots. What did he know about these animals, and what habits of ferocity they might possess? The contention was fierce between the tarno-rye and our gipsies, until he was brought to the baggage for loading. The invalid struggled, with unsteady gait, through the bushes, and, with the aid of his female attendant, ascended with difficulty into his stolkjærre, which was immediately driven away. He escaped the fate of Rip Van Winkle; may the draught he took under the Magician’s peaks give him health for twenty years. Some young woodcutters, with axes in their hands, came up as we were starting; they accompanied us along the road. On our left across the Rauma, we noticed a large pleasant residence called “Fiva.” The woodcutters said it was the property and residence of Mr. Bromley Davenport and a Mr. Ingram. They must have a splendid view from the house toward the Romsdalshorn; wewere informed that three farms had been purchased by the owner along the banks of the Rauma, which made the fishing very complete. The salmon in the Rauma do not ascend above Ormein. The situation of “Fiva” is admirable; the various bends and windings of the river round the estate are full of rapids and pools, that would have delighted the English father of all anglers, Isaac Walton.

The valley now became more fertile. We passed through pleasant grassy meads. Our woodcutters went to some houses on the roadside. We met several stolkjærrers, whose horses were rather shy in passing our donkeys. The peasants manifested the same curiosity about them. Now the valley assumed a more smiling aspect, and we came in sight of Aak “Lehnsmœnd,” Andreas Landmark’s House. The Hotel Aak is seven miles from Horgheim, and three from Veblungsnœs. As we saw the comfortable wooden house standing on a rise of ground above the road, with a diversity of green slopes and shady woods about it, we knew it to be the spot mentioned by Lady Diana Beauclerk in such high terms of commendation. In contrast with the wild valleys we had left, it seemed a sort of oasis in the desert.

When we passed Aak, some ladies who saw our party ran down from the house to see us; but a turn of the road soon hid us from them. Crossing two bridges, and passing a large comfortable house, we ascended the steep hill to a rise of ground above Veblungsnœs. Then passing through a gate upon the road, we saw a quiet lane through some waste ground covered with bushes, where we told Esmeralda and Zachariah to stay with the donkeys. Taking Noah, we went to reconnoitre for a campingground. Very soon we came to the edge of the descent to Veblungsnœs. Pausing a moment to look at the wooden church and town below, we went to the left, across a large space of open ground used as a drill-ground for the Militia; and, after looking at a large wooden building erected for military stores, we went down a lane to a gate, through which we saw several men and women raking up new-mown hay. This quiet spot formed a sort of knoll, above a small dingle, at the back of the bondegaard.

A green slope, and wooded mountain, rose abruptly from the other side of the stream. This seemed a haven of rest, as Veblungsnœs was to be our farthest point of travel north, our Ultima Thule. At once we entered, and going up to the farmer’s son, as we rightly took him to be, we proposed to come there and camp. Very much astonished he seemed. When he recovered his breath, he said something about his father, and went with us towards the bondegaard. The farmer’s house was of the better class, and substantially built of wood. We entered a kind of family room, where the master and his wife were seated at table, taking milk, and raw dried salmon cut in slices on their fladbröd. The bonde was dressed in dark clothes, being upwards of sixty; of respectable appearance, weather-worn countenance, with sharp angular features, at once expressive of shrewdness and cupidity. In social relations of life, he was a very respectable man. Of generosity he had none in his composition—one who would drive a hard bargain to the uttermost farthing.

The farmer came with us to the gate in a sort of bewildered state. It was a fine scene as he came alongwith his son and a retinue of peasants and peasant girls holding rakes in their hands. Then there was the consultation at the gate opening to the junction of two deserted lanes. Our imperfect Norsk was aided by signs; but we plunged through, with Noah standing as a sort of aide-de-camp waiting for orders.

A consideration was mentioned. “Ah! a consideration! moneypenge! ha, moneypenge! The silver key!” The donkeys must be seen. Noah soon had them down with his peculiar whistle. The old man’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed them. A consideration! we saw crossing his mind, as the hero in Hans Breitman’s ballad, “He stood all shpell-pound.” The donkeys were driven up to the knoll, and our things were unloaded down.

“Well,” thought we, “if we have to pay, we shall have strict privacy—private ground!”

The hay was cleared off the knoll, the tents pitched; the donkeys were put up in the wood above the mown slope, on to the other side the dingle. Esmeralda said an officer, whom she designated as the Commandant of Veblungsnœs, had passed them near the gate, and was a very pleasant gentleman, who lived in the large house we had passed near the bridges.

Eggs and bread could not be purchased at the farm. Some visitors came to our tents after tea; amongst others, Mr. L., of the telegraph office, who said he should be glad to give us any assistance. Our visitors did not stay late, and we retired to rest at an early hour.

It is Friday, the 22nd July. The morning being wet, we did not rise very early. Taking Noah and Zachariah, we left our camp for Veblungsnœs, at about three o’clock in the afternoon. Passing from the bondegaard, acrosssome open arable fields, to an avenue of trees, we entered under its shade into a small wooden town. Passing up the main street, we soon found ourselves in a kind of conglomeration of houses, with short lanes having no continuance. One open space represented a kind of square. Alleys, at occasional angles, debouched to the waters of the Isfjord, which partly surrounds the town. Veblungsnœs is the port of Romsdal. Though we could not account for it, we were at once interested in the place. There was a charm about its silent quaintness which made us linger with pleasure.

The telegraph office was closed till four o’clock. Veblungsnœs evidently was buried in its siesta. The siesta, or kief, in mid-day is claimed by the inhabitants of many northern countries. The tradesmen would be quite offended if you went to their shops in their mid-day hours of refreshment and repose. How different from the American style of one, two, gulp, and gone! No busy scenes or people met our view. The extreme quietude of the town seemed to communicate itself, and exercise its influence on the spirit. At times we imagined we were in a large ship or timber-yard, when the workmen had all gone to dinner. Strolling down a short alley, we were at once on the strand of the Isfjord. Walking along the water’s edge, we could not help admiring the beauty of the evening scene. No one was visible. One small fishing-boat, partly drawn up on the beach, was just ready for a cruise. Nets, everything—even the dried fish, probably the store of provisions for the fishermen till their return—were placed in order. Some curious-looking fish, probably rejected as unsaleable, were lying on the shingle. One had green eyes, with its mouth in its throat; two or three mouse-colouredfish, equally singular and repulsive, were thrown near. It is strange what deformity occurs in the fish creation. It is said that in a lake in Wales the fish are all deformed. We have not yet verified the fact. Returning to the telegraph office, we saw Mr. L. All that he could do to render our stay agreeable he did. Our future route was discussed, and it seemed quite clear that it would be impossible to reach Christiansand before the end of the summer season. The idea that our party might take baths next occurred to us; not that we expected to find anything approaching the accommodation or luxury of ancient Rome. Baths, containing hundreds of seats of marble, adorned with splendid frescoes, and whose fittings were of alabaster, porphyry, and jasper, where every luxury was found that human thought could devise.65What the baths of Veblungsnœs would have been we know not; but they had only one, the spreading waters of the Fjord, before us. The post-office was in the main street, and kept by polite and kindly people. The postage of each letter to England cost twelve skillings, and those to France fifteen skillings.

We sent a telegram to the Chevalier to announce our safe arrival; another to Kongsberg, for our letters to be sent to Lom. It was also mentioned to us that Herr Solberg, of Molde, wished very much to take photographs of our donkeys and camp, if we would kindly consent. We were even offered some copies without charge, as an inducement. The news of the day was also important; for the first time we learned that France and Prussia had declared war, and England would be neutral. Before we left we purchased a large quantity of bread, which Noah took into his possession. Leaving the quiet little town, we at length approached our tents, where we found two Norwegian officers seated in cheerful mood talking to Esmeralda at the tent entrance.

They were gayety itself as they reclined on the green turf. One officer, who seemed about sixty, had all the manners of the “homme galant,” and spoke some English. When they saw me they at once rose, saluted, and left. Esmeralda said the older officer, who spoke some English, was very polite, and said to her, “How do you manage with four men?” To which she answered, “I have onlythree men.” Then the officer said, “Who do you talk to most—I suppose your beloved Mr. Smith?” Esmeralda said she did not talk to anyone. The officer then wanted to purchase a lock of her hair; but she would not let him have any. We cannot venture to dwell on his feelings of cruel disappointment.

We were much pressed by the people of the farm to give them some music in a large room, probably used as a granary. We went to see it first. The room was large and lofty on the ground-floor. We consented to play for them at nine o’clock. The farmer himself we saw very seldom, and it is scarcely probable that he originated the idea.

An English gentleman staying at Aak, who had been to the telegraph office, came to our camp, and sat down in our tents. From his intimate knowledge of Norway, he was able to give us considerable information. It was very fortunate. We presented him with a copy of our gipsy song, before he left, as a souvenir of our camp.

At nine o’clock, chairs having been placed for us, we took our seats and commenced playing, ourself the guitar, Noah the tambourine, and Zachariah his violin. We had a large party—unexpectedly so, some of the officers and their wives, and many of the principal inhabitants of Veblungsnœs; and we had not anticipated more persons than the people of the bondegaard. Esmeralda was left in charge of the tents; but our visitors had so much delicacy that directly we left the tent no one went near it. What a scene! The room was suddenly filled with dancers and visitors. One tall young officer, a fine young fellow, was especially active. We had a favourite polka for them, which we afterwards christened“Veblungsnœs.” Zachariah put all his gipsy nerve and feeling into his music. Nay, our Romany Boshamengro, almost rivalled, if he did not surpass, Barna Mihali, the celebrated gipsy Violinist of Hungary.66Even Orpheus might have bit his lips; but he was not there. All that wild gipsy inspiration could do, was done—tones that produced a whirl of sensation. Noah did his part stoutly on the tambourine. We made the acquaintance of several very pleasant officers and others—one or two we had met in our wanderings. They seemed like old friends.

Then Esmeralda came and played, in place of Noah, with her tambourine. Between the dances we conversed as well as we could with the officers and other visitors. Mr. L. was also there. The Norwegian officers have much military smartness about them. Many of them can speak French or English, and sometimes both. We always found them gentlemen. The Militia officers receive regular pay all the year; their men are only paid whilst on duty. The Militia men we saw, were fine strong young men, capable of any amount of endurance. Such was our introduction to the inhabitants of Veblungsnœs. We saw almost as much of them, as if we had made a series of visits to their houses. At the same time we had escaped the inconvenience of too much hospitality, and still more, of being obliged to sit in close warm rooms,which, to one accustomed to the natural saloons of the wild forest, is at any time a very severe penance. In the clear light of a Norwegian evening, the younger people danced to the strains of our wild music; others looked on, and conversed; all seemed to enjoy themselves. Ten o’clock came: our music ceased. Specially requested, as we left, we seated ourselves on a slope of turf near our tents, and sang, “The Gipsy Song,” with guitar accompaniment. They seemed pleased. With many adieux, they left. So ended what may be termed our gipsy conversazione at Veblungsnœs.

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