Nico did a great deal of work in Dalen, finishing half-completed sketches, and making many figure-drawings. One of the servants was from Sætersdalen; and, to pose for Nico, she dressed herself in her extraordinary costume. In the course of our wanderings we met with travelling natives of Sætersdalen—once, under a lucky star, with a woman taking her little child, a girl of three or four years old, to a hospital in Christiania. Between us we persuaded the child to act as model for an hour or two, so as to give Nico occasion to transfer her decorative charm to his paper. The dress for women and girl children alike is a straight garment of very thick cloth, sustained by embroidered shoulder-straps. It reaches only a little below the knee, and is edged by two or three bands of very thick coloured cloth, which hold out stiffly the rather solid material of which the garment is made. Under this they wear a petticoat made on the same model. A white shirt covers the arms and neck, and a brightly coloured knitted belt girdles the middle—I can scarcely call it the waist—of the wearer. On their hands are black mittens, embroidered in a traditional pattern with brightly coloured wools. The head is covered by a folded handkerchief, and the hair hangs loose or plaited down the back. The legs are encased in thick knitted stockings and sensible low shoes. The men and boys wear trousers that come up to their shoulders, and odd little round hats. The district in which they live we were not able to visit, to my regret. We had left it to the last, intending to take it on our way home, as the country can only be approached from Christianssand, a port touched by the steamers bound from Christiania to Hull; and at the last moment unforeseen circumstances compelled us to make our passage home as speedy as possible. There is a railway which will take the traveller up the valley as far as Byglandsfjord; but to appreciate its many charms it is advisable, and well worth while, to make the journey by road and water. Beyond this station the valley has no connection with other routes, except by rough and sometimes dangerous mountain paths. Accommodation for the tourist is exceedingly rough, and food narrowly limited in quality and variety. On account of these drawbacks, the Sætersdalen district must certainly be, from many points of view, the most interesting part of Norway. There the traveller will find the dresses, the customs, and the dwelling-places in much the same stage as they have been for the last three hundred years, and—what is always a great attraction to me and surely not less so to others—there is the joy of travelling in parts which are as yet almost unknown, and consequently unspoilt by the tourist, who must perforce bring in his wake so many doubtful blessings. For me the people of a country is that country's greatest charm—not the townsfolk or the owners and staffs of the big hotels with their far-spreading influence, but the unspoilt people of the untravelled parts. In the summer months parties of people migrate from the valley and take up their abode in the mountains. Thus the courageous but too confident traveller may find himself unable to obtain even such simple food as bread and milk. It is highly advisable for the explorer to take with him biscuits, canned food, and brandy, and to travel with as small a quantity of baggage as is convenient.
SÆTERSDALEN PEASANT GIRL
At the head of the valley it is possible to cross the mountains which separate Sætersdalen from Telemarken and to arrive at Dalen, on Lake Bandak. The peasant inhabitants of Sætersdalen are of rather a charming primitiveness, and some of their houses can show wonderful specimens of quaint and grotesque carving. Included in this simplicity, however, is an unpleasant and complete disregard for cleanliness.
The moment came when, much against our inclinations, and especially against Nico's wishes, we were obliged to leave our comfortable quarters at Dalen. For the last time I basked in the warm sunshine which had favoured us during our entire stay; for the last time I retired from the too warm welcome to the shadowy balcony studio belonging to my room, which complaisantly looked north as Nico required. Only this once more should I drop sticks of chocolate on to the golden curls of the little Andrea as she came within range during her eternal roamings over the big farmyard in search of mischief. No fewer than ten cats of variegated colours prowled over this area; they delicately fished and fought for the more toothsome morsels from the barrel outside the kitchen window containing all the refuse of food stuffs, the eventual emptying of which was to the advantage of the pigstye. In the middle of this interesting land was a well. Over it hung, high in the air, an empty bucket suspended by a chain from the lighter end of an immense pole. The pretty cowherd would fill the pail with water to plenish the tubs from which her charges drank. Most evenings, in a spirit of wickedness, the worthy brother of the golden-haired baby would fill the bucket and leave it standing by the well, the weight of the water in it keeping it on the ground. Up would come an unsuspecting cow, which thirstily would drink the contents. Slowly she would lift her head from the now empty pail, which, flying as by magic into the air, would almost invariably give the bewildered creature a smart blow on the head. Of course, it did not hurt the animal; but her expression of startled and grieved surprise was most amusing. It was one of the excitements of my days at Dalen to have mild bets with Nico whether the day's intended victim would be free of the bucket in time.
MOLDÖEN
The sun went in; the air grew cold; soon darkness was upon us. This was the proudest moment of the day. I lit my fire, invariably with success, with peelings of birch bark that I had sedulously collected during my walks. This last time all my savings went together—how they blazed! Then in came the farmer, our host, with his exceedingly easy bill, including entries for various delightful painted butter-boxes and three immense wooden drinking bowls which I had bought from him. Then followed his worthy wife and his pretty daughter, bearing a tray on which was a bottle of arac punch and four glasses—he wished to drink to us before we went, and so we clinked the small glasses, and in various words of various languages expressed that we were pleased with one another, and almost arranged that the pretty daughter should come with us to learn English and to help my nurse to look after my babies. I have not got little Andrea with me yet; but I expect that by the time this book is published she will be in my house, wearing her pretty national costume, and rejoicing us with her charming little face, which is reproduced on the frontispiece of the book.