ENGLAND’S FAREWELL—SUMMER TOURISTS—THE CHEVALIER—SEAFARING—A GIPSY RECEPTION—CHANGE OF PLANS—NORWEGIAN PILOT—THE BIRMINGHAM BAGMAN—INDUCEMENT TO AUTHORSHIP—STRANGE WILLS—A SAILOR’S PHILOSOPHY—ICELANDIC LANGUAGE—PROGNOSTICATIONS.
The steamer’s saloon was elegantly fitted up. Bouquets of flowers shed their fragrance on each table; books, pens, and ink had been supplied for the use of the voyagers. One passenger soon entered, carrying a long sword; another—a French gentleman—followed, and expressed a wish to be in the same cabin with his wife. We have pleasure in saying that we found the captain very agreeable, and courteous.
The Albion steamer left the Hull docks at eight o’clock the same evening, being towed out by a steam-tug. The under-steward, went to meet some passengers, whose arrival was expected by a late train, but returned without having found them. The gipsies and ourself, as we stood looking over the bulwarks of the steamer, took our last view of the fading shore, and the steamer was soon fairly on her voyage. Our gipsies were almost famished; but we managed to get them some tea, at nine o’clock, and they went off to bed.
Our cabin was one of the best in the steamer. We awoke as daylight dawned through the open bull’s-eye window of our upper berth. Not feeling decidedly well, or ill, we got up, to see how we were; then we had some conversation, with our fellow-passenger in the berth below. (We were the only two occupants of the cabin.) This traveller, who was invisible behind the curtain of his berth, informed us that he was going on business to Gottenberg; while we told him, that we were going to make a tour, in the wilds of Norway.
When we sought our gipsies, we found that they were not up. In company with several of our fellow-passengers, we afterwards sat down to a capital breakfast provided for us in the saloon. The steamer had its usual complement of travellers to Norway in summer—some for fishing, some for health, and some for business.
One pale, gentlemanly passenger, whose acquaintance we made, had met with an accident to his leg. Another agreeable tourist, whom we will call Mr. C., was accompanied by his wife—a tall young lady, with a Tyrolese hat and feather. A young invalid officer, just returned from Italy, had had the Roman fever, and was given up; he had, however, recovered sufficiently to travel, and intended going to Lyngdal to join some friends. There were also two or three Norwegian gentlemen (one of them, a Chevalier de l’Ordre de Wasa), a Scotch traveller with a large sandy beard, and a tall, portly gentleman, going to visit some friends near Christiania.
Finding we had three donkeys on board, the Chevalier and another passenger accompanied us to see them. The first-named gentleman, was especially interested in our proposed excursion. How shall we describe him?
He was rather under middle height, thick-set, and strongly built; and occasionally his countenance expressed, much animation, and good-humoured energy. The information he possessed was extensive; he spoke English perfectly; had travelled much, and knew Scandinavia, and its people well.
The donkeys were declared very fine ones, especially the large light-coloured animal, with a dark cross on its shoulders, long, finely-formed legs, and beautiful head. This donkey was about six years old, and we called it the Puru Rawnee.[13]