“There are plenty of them. I caught one not long ago with strychnine. The doctor, who has lately left, caught a great many one winter. Brun, my predecessor, who was drowned, took seven wolves in one night with poison, close by the parsonage. They are also taken in the baas (i.e., such a trap as I described above). Some winters there are very few, while at other times they abound. A fjeld-frass (glutton) was not long ago taken in a trap. We have also lynxes of two sorts—the katte-gaupe (cat-lynx), which is yellow, with dark spots; and the skrübb-gaupe (wolf-lynx), which is wolf-coloured.”
The church, like all modern Norwegian churches, is neat, but nothing more. Its very ancient predecessor, which was pulled down a short time ago, abounded, like most of those built in Roman Catholic times, with beautiful wood-carving. Near the church is a fine sycamore, two hundred years old, and three picturesque weeping birches. Oaks, I find, ceased at Guldsmedoen.
“Ah!” said the priest, in the course of conversation, “this is a marvellous country, when you consider its peculiar nature—more barren rock by far than anything else. And yet our opkomst (progress) is wonderful since we became a free nation. With a population of less than a million and a half, we have a mercantile marine second only to that of England. We have as much freedom as is consistent with safety; the taxes are light, and the overplus, after paying the expenses of the Government, is devoted to internal improvements. None of it goes to Sweden, as it did formerly to Denmark; it is all spent on the country. Yes, sir, everything thrives better in a free country; the air is healthier, the very trees grow better.”
Sentiments like these, which are breathed by every Norskman, of course found a cordial response from an Englishman. I only hope that Norway will be suffered to go on progressing uninterruptedly.
Never having seen the interior of what is called the Bad-hus (bath-house), I go with my host to see this regular appendage to all country-houses. The traveller in Norway has no doubt often seen at some distance from the main house a log-hut, round the door of which the logs are blackened by smoke. This is the bad-hus. The millstones in this country are so indifferent, that it is found necessary to bake the corn previous to grinding it. It is thus performed. In the centre of the log-house, which is nearly air-proof, is a huge stone oven heaped over with large stones. Near the roof within are shelves on which the grain is placed; a wood fire is then lit in the oven, the door of the but is closed, and the temperature inside soon becomes nearly equal to that of the oven itself, and the corn speedily dries.
It is said that this name, “bad-hus,” is derived from a custom which formerly prevailed among the people of using this receptacle in winter time as a kind of hot-air bath. The peasant, also, put it to another use. Not being the cleanliest people in the world, their bed-clothes become at times densely inhabited. When the colony becomes overstocked, the clothes are brought hither, and a short spell of the infernal temperature proves too much for the small animals, as they are not blessed with the heat-enduring capabilities of the cricket or salamander. In fact, the clothes become literally too hot to hold them, and they share the fate of Higginbottom.
This reminds me of an old tale concerning one Staale, of Aasheim, not very far from here. This man had murdered his brother about two hundred and fifty years ago. His life was spared on condition that he would rid the country of seven outlaws who harried the country and defied every attempt to take them. Staale, who was a daredevil villain, having discovered their retreat, went thither in rags, and showing them that he was a bird of similar plumage, proposed forgathering with them. The robbers were charmed at the idea of such an accession to their number. Meanwhile, Staale complained that his rags were full of parasites, and at his request a huge kettle was hung over the fire for the purpose of boiling the creatures out. As soon as the water boiled Staale dashed the fluid into the faces of the robbers who lay asleep on the floor, not expecting so warm a reception. Thus reduced, for the moment at least, to a condition like that of that precious brigand, Polyphemus, they fell an easy prey to Staale, who dashed their brains out with a crow-bar. He was, however, near being overmastered by an old woman who ministered to the wants of the robbers, like the delicate Leonarda in Gil Blas, and had escaped the baptism that had been administered to the rest. After a hard struggle, however, he overcame the virago, and thus obtained his life and freedom, which had been forfeited for his misdeeds.
In the bad-hus were also suspended the winter cloak of his Reverence, composed of six beautiful wolf-skins; the sledge-apron, made of a huge black bear-skin, with the fur leggings and gloves, also used to keep out the cold in driving. These articles are generally hung up in another part of the premises, the ammoniacal vapours of which are much disliked and avoided by moths and other fur-destroyers.