While I wait for the horse, I eat breakfast, and look about me. Wonderful to relate, I find on a shelf—what do you suppose, reader?—a Bible! yes, that was there, but there was another volume, a cookery book, printed at Copenhagen, 1799. One might as well expect to meet with a book of Paris fashions among the squaws of the Ojibbeways. Eating, it is true, forms the main part of a Norwegian’s daily thoughts. The word mad (meat, food) is everlastingly in their mouths, and the thing itself almost as frequently, six meals a day not being uncommon. But then, what food! No cookery book surely required for that. So that no doubt this book got here by mistake.
The little almanac, edited by Professor Handsteen, of Christiania, who is known in England as the author of “Travels in Siberia,” also lay on the table. A little note I found in it is very significant of the simple-minded superstition that still lingers among the peasantry, of which I have been giving indications above. It is to this effect:—
“The orbit of the moon (maane-bane), has the same position with regard to the equator every nineteenth year, and it possibly may influence the atmosphere. It has been supposed, in consequence, that there is some similarity in the weather on any day to that of the corresponding day nineteen years ago. For this reason, in one column under the heading ‘veirliget,’ the weather is given as observed at Christiania, nineteen years ago. This, however, must not be looked on as divination (ingen spædom), but only as an historical calculation.” This veirliget (weather) column having, notwithstanding the above caution, been turned by the peasants to superstitious uses, was, I hear, omitted for a time, but it had to be restored, as the bonders would not buy the almanac without it. I may here mention that the old dispute about the exact day on which St. Olaf fell at Stikklestad has been recently revived with great vigour. This great national festival has hitherto been kept on the 29th of July, “Olsok.” Hakon Hakonson was crowned king on that day in 1247, and ever since it has been the coronation day of Norway. But the national mind was some time ago disagreeably disturbed by the discovery that the 29th could not after all have been the day of St. Olaf’s death; for although tradition and Snorro assert that there was an eclipse of the sun on that day, it has been ascertained by astronomical calculation, that this eclipse did not take place on the 29th July, but on the 31st of August. One party, therefore, is contending for the observance of the festival on the actual day (31st of August), while another insists upon adhering to the former date. Upon the whole, it would seem preferable to observe the day hallowed by the traditional recollections of the people. If we may be permitted such a comparison, who would like to see the festival of the Nativity altered from December 25th to some other day in the calendar?
Meantime, after an unusual delay, the fresh relay arrives; a fine black stallion, dripping wet.
“I must write a complaint in the book for this,” said I. “You are long after your time. I shall never get to the end of my journey at this rate. You’ll be fined a dollar, and serve you right.”
“Oh! pray don’t, sir; it’s not my fault; the landlord’s son is to blame; he never comes straight to tell us. And then the horse was over the river. I’ve had to swim him across, and the water is bad just now for swimming. He shall go fast, and make up for lost time.”
Somewhat mollified, I did not put my threat in execution, much to the satisfaction of Svend.
Svend was a simple-minded individual in shooting matters, as I presently had occasion to see. On the sedgy shallows of a lake, just before the river began again to contract into rapids, a score of ducks were assembled; some motionless, others busily employed in standing on their heads in the water. Leaving the carriole, I stole with much circumspection towards them, managing to keep some bushes between me and the birds, until I got within shot. Bang went one barrel, and then another, and four ducks were hors de combat. When I returned to the vehicle with my prize, Svend expressed great astonishment that I had fired the barrels separately, as he thought they both went off at once.[20] He had never seen a double-barrelled gun before. Another peasant who was by, speedily cut some birch twigs with his toll-knife, and packed up the birds, taking care to stick the bills inside, that the flies might not get into the gape (Gapë).
At length we descend upon Gulsvig, at the head of the Krören Fjord. I at once perceived, from a glance at the interior of the house, that the station-keeper was a man of some importance. In fact, he turned out to be the Lehnsman of the district. In the inner room there were a large quantity of silver spoons, and a huge tankard of solid silver, pegged inside, and of great weight, which at once bespoke the owners to be people of substance.
“Ah! that was left me by my grandfather,” said the landlord. “It has been a very long time in the family.”