The next donkey, was a dark animal, five years old, strong, but not so finely formed; although not so spirited, it endured all the fatigue of long travel, even better than its two companions; we called it the Puro Rye.[14]
The third was about four years old, with a beautiful head, very lively, and was called the Tarno Rye.[15] They seemed to relish the hay, and made themselves quite at home.
The donkeys became objects of special interest, and the Puru Rawnee was much admired. Most of the passengers had something to recount as to their impressions. A Norwegian gentleman said that they had no donkeys in Norway, which we afterwards found to be quite correct. Another good-humouredly said, that sixpence each ought to be charged, and the entrance closed. Many were the suggestions, and speculations, concerning them by the passengers, as they quietly puffed their cigars. The gentleman of the Roman fever, who seemed to be improving each hour, said in a significant manner, during a pause in the conversation, “You’ll write a book; your experience will be interesting—you ought to write a book.”
We now went to find our gipsies, or what was left of them. Esmeralda was lying on the deck, with her head on a closed hatchway. She raised her head in a most doleful manner, and said, “Very bad, sir.” Noah was lying next his sister, and sat up for a moment looking very wild. Zacharia was extended full length, perfectly speechless. Evidently, they wished themselves on shore again.
Great curiosity was excited among the passengers to see the gipsies. We explained, that they were in a very prostrate condition—in fact, quite unable to hold much intercourse, with the outer world; but at length we yielded, and introduced a party to them. The interview was short, and as our gipsies were still lying on the deck, and quite unable to do the honours of the reception, we soon left them in peace. The passengers were apparently much pleased with the introduction.
They were real gipsies—gipsies who had all their life roamed England with their tents—none of your half-and-half caravan people—an effeminate race, who sleep in closed boxes, gaudily painted outside, with a stove, and a large fire within. Ours were nomads, who slept on the ground, and wandered with their tents, during every season of the year.
The steward took care we did not starve. Our dinner was quite a success. The table groaned beneath the weight of soup, salmon, roast beef, veal, ducks and green peas, young potatoes, puddings, Stilton and Cheshire cheese, &c., with excellent claret from a Norwegian house at Christiania.
The gipsies did not give much sign of revival. During the afternoon, we visited them now, and then, consoled them, and gave the steward orders, to let them have whatever they wanted.
We had a long conversation, with the Chevalier, as to our route, through Norway. It had been our intention to make Christiansand our starting-point, go through the wilds of the Thelemarken, and visit again the Gousta Mountain, and the Rjukan Fos. The Chevalier suggested Christiania, as the best starting-point, taking railway to Eidsvold, where, he said, Presten Eilert Sundt resided. He then said, we could travel by road, or steamer, to Lillehammer, and from thence through the Gudbrandsdalen. He afterwards sketched out a very long and interesting route, having its termination at Christiansand, and we determined to follow as far as possible his suggestions.
There were many inquiries by the passengers as to how the gipsies fared, and we went to see them again just before tea-time. Zacharia was in bed, and asleep; Noah was just getting into bed; and Esmeralda was in the second-class women’s cabin, with some tea, and bread-and-butter before her, looking exceedingly poorly. The close proximity to a stout woman who was dreadfully sea-sick, was not enlivening.