The day had gradually become bright and lovely. The steamer approached Christiansand. In the afternoon, we sighted its forts. The town looked smiling, as if to welcome us from the ocean. Several passengers were going on shore: the portly gentleman, the officer who had had the Roman fever, the Chevalier, and ourselves and gipsies descended into a boat. The fare when we landed was 16 skillings. The officer was going to some place near Lyngdal. We left him at the Custom House, passing his baggage. As he wished ourselves, and gipsies good-bye, his last words were, “Remember, I must have a copy of your book.” We hope before this, he has recovered, and is able to read these pages.
The houses of Christiansand are of wood; the streets are broad, the pavement, when not Macadamized, often rough and uneven. The town had wonderfully improved since our last visit.
Christiansand recalled to mind the time, when a friend and ourself, once landed there from England. We had sailed in a small fishing-smack, commanded by Captain Dixon. It was our first visit to Norway. We stayed at the Scandinavian Hotel, kept by Madame Lemcou. The hotel was very like a private house. No one spoke English. Well, we remember our difficulties, and the kind old inhabitant, who called upon us. He had no doubt come to place his knowledge of the country at our service. His stock of English consisted of “your most humble obedient servant,” which he often repeated. Our knowledge of Norwegian, at that time was in comparison, scarcely more extensive, so that our interview, ended much as it began.
We rambled with our gipsies through the town. It was a sunny evening. The inhabitants were also enjoying their evening promenade. Although warm, and pleasant, scarcely any of the windows of the houses, were opened for ventilation. The sides of the wooden houses were often covered with weather-boards, and painted. Esmeralda, with her dark raven hair, and eyes; Noah, with his tall figure; Zacharia decorated with a flaming yellow “dicklo” (gipsy handkerchief) flaunting round his neck in gipsy fashion, were severally scanned by curious observers as we passed. Noah heard one person say in English, “How healthy-looking they are!” We could not help being amused, at the puzzled expression of some, not excepting several young soldiers we met.
We walked round the cathedral, which was not improved by whitewash, and possessed no chef d’œuvre of sculptured ornament, to make us linger in our contemplation.
The old Runic stone in the churchyard of Oddernœs Church, we had before visited. Noah—whose ideas no doubt connected most views with sites for a camp—pointed out one highly suitable on the bank of the Torrisdals Elv. Time wore away, and we at length made our way quickly down to the boats, waiting at the rough wooden piers of the harbour.
We had a boat to ourselves. Esmeralda sat with us at the stern—her two brothers sat on the seat opposite. As the boatman rowed us from the shore, we thought how strangely, we wander through the world, as we follow the high road of life. When we reached the Albion steamer, many passengers were looking over the side of the vessel. We had no small change, when we went on shore, but the portly gentleman kindly lent us the necessary amount. On our return it was necessary to pay the boatman. We gave him the smallest change we had, which was a quarter of a dollar, and then ascended the gangway with our gipsies.
The Birmingham bagman had been watching us. “Ah!” said he, coming up, as we stepped on deck, “why you gave the man too much. I saw you give a large piece of silver to him. He pulled off his hat to you. You spoil them.” We explained that we had no change. “But,” said he, in a state of excitement, “you spoil them.” We trusted it would do the boatman good, and left him, to communicate his ideas of pecuniary compensation, to some one else.
This he appears to have done; for very shortly after the Chevalier coming on board, grossly infringed, the bagman’s scale of payment, and he came in for another storm of indignant remonstrance.
Monsieur le Chevalier, whose quiet humour nothing could disturb, asked the excited bagman, why he did not give the boatman the English half-crown he wanted to get rid of? “Can you give me any discount?” shouted the bagman, infuriated. The Chevalier calmly answered, “Your appearance shows me, that you can give me nothing to discount upon.” The bagman rushed off, and we found him some short time after, when we went into our cabin, lying in his berth.