At first the gipsies did not see any dry fire-wood. “Go to the shingly beach,” said we, “you will find plenty.” There is always some rough wood, drifted up by high winds on every beach. They found plenty, and we had a good fire.
What is that we hear, as Noah is putting up the tents? Esmeralda’s voice to her brother Zachariah, in severe reproof—“Push it on, Highflyer.—What, pushing the prop the wrong way. Oh, Lucas! Lucas! you were always a mumper!”
We had tea, fladbröd, and butter, for our aftens-mad, Ole afterwards went to the sœter, and had their iron pot cleaned out for gröd in the morning.
Noah produced a meerschaum pipe, and began to smoke. What camp rules—smoking! Noah was, upon explanation, found to have picked it up at a spring, and said he was only drawing out the contents of the tobacco in it, to empty it. He very soon put it up. After reflection—Why are thoughtless tourists so careless, as to leave their pipes about, to the serious injury, and temptation of our gipsies?
Just as we were retiring to bed, Esmeralda thought she heard a toad creaking—didn’t like it. As far as we could ascertain, it was her brother Zachariah, who was fast asleep in bed snoring.
Up at half-past three O’clock; a very cold morning; there is a wintry feeling about the air. To-day is Wednesday, the 10th August, yet, after all, we can stand without inconvenience, the chilliness of an early sunrise in the mountains. The view was beautiful, as the sun rose beyond the lake, over the sharp peaks of Koldedalstinderne. We went to the Lortwick sœter. Ole was of course up. Does he sit up all night? was a question, we again asked. He had got the iron pot full of water ready to boil. When we returned Noah was sent for the gröd. How we enjoyed, notwithstanding the extreme freshness of the morning, a summer’s day iced, as we had our matutinal splash in the lake. Noah soon brought the gröd to the tents; Ole joined us, and we had our breakfast. Gröd and milk is certainly a cheap meal, sufficient for five people scarcely exceeds the cost of ten skillings. We found the gröd very good for hard work; our cost at the Lortwick sœter was—
| m. | s. | |
|---|---|---|
| 2lbs. butter | 2 | 0 |
| Fladbröd | 0 | 12 |
| Milk | 0 | 8 |
| Sœter | 0 | 4 |
| —— | —— | |
| Total cost | 3 | 0 |
At six o’clock in the morning, we passed the Lortwick sœter on the Tyen Vand. Esmeralda and Noah had evidently got up on the wrong side the turf.
The Lake Tyen is picturesque, but not so wild as the Lake Bygdin. Time did not permit us to test the fishing. The view, especially from the “Tourist’s Châlet,” Tvindehougen, is very picturesque. On the opposite shore there are generally some Norwegian fishermen, at a place called Fiskebod.
As we left the shores of the lake, the gipsy storm rose higher; the hurricane of human intellect was even too great for Zachariah to swim in—Mephistopheles kept aloof with his donkey, as a mariner shuns a maëlstrom. Even Ole pushed ahead some yards farther than usual, not altogether out of reach of the wordy projectiles, which fell around.