Tent life with English Gipsies in Norway

by Hubert Smith

Whilst the ferryman’s son was enjoying his rapid transit, his father, mother, and sister, as we supposed them to be, were enjoying our brandy. Of course, the son, when he did land, drank “gamle norge” to his happy escape. It was not the first aquavit he had taken. Energy is catching; they began to look quite sharp. Our transit cost twelve skillings. Mephistopheles played them a tune on his Violin. The ferryman and family seemed highly delighted. We left with their good wishes, to continue our journey.

Still we became more and more unwell. Slowly we went on, until we came to a large gaard, of superior size, and comfort.

The road passed through a large open meadow, shut in by gates, on the banks of the river. Near the river the grass had been newly mown. The farmer, and some of his family, came to see the donkeys, which the gipsies halted for their inspection. The farmer’s wife asked if they stood on their hind legs. The people seemed so kindly; the meadow so charmingly situate, on the banks of the broad river, that we decided to stay. We made the farmer, and his wife, understand that we wanted a mark of fladbröd, and six skillings’ worth of milk. Esmeralda went to the gaard for it. They nearly filled one large can full of milk. Noah in the meantime lighted a fire, and made the gröd. The donkeys were driven across a dry portion of the shingly bed of the river, to a green island for rest and shade.

The farmer and his wife sat down near us. It was astonishing the kindly interest they took. We fancy we looked ill and worn. At first we said nothing to our gipsies. It may probably pass away, thought we. “Du courage.” Esmeralda soon discovered that something was the matter with the Rye, and we told her. Still we sat on the beautiful new mown turf, gazing on the rapid broad flowing river, the farmer, and his wife and family near. Then the donkeys were driven back for us to go. Some of the family brought green corn, and green peas, for the donkeys to eat. Then we gave the farmer’s wife a song, for, somehow, we seemed to have established a friendship with them. The farmer’s wife seemed anxious to know our name; so we wrote it on the back of the song, with the date. Then she asked, whose wife Esmeralda was, and if we worked in metals. They did not quite seem to understand, when we said we travelled for pleasure. So we parted from the friendly farmer, and his wife, and family, at about twelve o’clock, and continued our journey.

Passing the Höler Elv, we came towards Storsveen. Once a man came out of a wood, hastily put up his scythe, and followed us. He wanted to see our donkeys. The grain is stacked up in the fields, sheaf upon sheaf, round poles, six feet high. Zachariah tried the river, but could not catch any fish. It did not appear there were many.

Near Storsveen, we saw a pig with a broken nose. Soon after we had passed the turn down to the Storsveen Station, we noticed behind us a traveller. It was our friend from Eisbod, walking after us with his knapsack. We had met again. Our friend said he was much better, and was going to Storsveen; but seeing us before him, he had overtaken us. After a pleasant converse, he returned to Storsveen Station to get a conveyance, and said he should overtake us again.

Struggle as we would, we got worse. Our gipsies noticed it. They became more silent. We told Noah to camp, at the first convenient spot. About two o’clock we came to a beautiful part of the valley. All that we could desire. The road passed through an amphitheatre of green turf, closed in by rising rocks, covered with dense, and thickly hanging woods. In front we had the broad river. A dry, level, shingly beach, stretched out, to nearly the middle of the stream. On the opposite bank, to our right, there was a magnificent cliff, above the river, clothed with wood. The scene was well suited for a rest. Our gipsies quickly drove the donkeys to a rising hillock, beneath the wood, a short distance from the road, and pitched our tents. Our friend from Eisbod, came soon after in a conveyance. Paying a short visit to our camp, he had one of our cigars, a pleasant converse, and had almost recovered.

As he was leaving in his conveyance, two smart young tourists came along the road; they were on foot. Their whole equipment was neatness, even to the umbrella. As, very far from well, we sat near our tent, we could see them in conference, with our friend from Eisbod. Immediately afterwards, one produced a sketch-book, and apparently sketched the donkeys. Then he appeared to be taking a sketch of our camp, and Esmeralda, and ourself. Noah got up, and in an earnest tone said, “They are ‘lelling’ you, sir,” and vanished off to the river, where Zachariah was disporting himself on the shingly beach, with nothing on but his shirt.[117] They at last appeared to have completed the sketch of our donkeys, and camp, for suddenly the book was shut. They took off their hats; we, of course returned the salute, and they continued their excursion. If we had not been so unwell, we should have sought their acquaintance.

Very quietly we rested in our camp. Esmeralda did what she could. No one came. It was just such a spot one could wish to die in. Yes; but who is to write “Tent Life with the English Gipsies in Norway”? Where are the Birmingham bagman’s two copies? Where will be the many others required, including that for the officer with the Roman fever? Are they to be disappointed? No: we shall not fail them, in the closing scenes of our nomad wanderings.

Noah came back before our aftensmad, with thirteen minnows, and Zachariah three, which were fried for tea, with fladbröd and butter. The afternoon was beautiful, and at nine o’clock we retired to rest.