“Choriñoac kaiolan
Tristeric du cantatcen,
Duelarican cer jan,
Cer edan,
Campoa du desiratcen;
Ceren, ceren
Libertatia hain eder den.”
Le Pays Basque, par Francisque Michel.
“The little bird in the cage
Singeth sadly,
Withal to eat,
Withal to drink,
He would be out;
Because, because
Nothing is sweet but liberty.”
MODERATE BILL—PROVISIONS LOST—WE MEET AGAIN—GIPSIES IN ADVANCE—LEFT ALONE—A WELCOME TELEGRAM—NORWEGIAN BATH ROOM—SINGULAR PAINTINGS—ONCE MORE FAREWELL—THE TELEGRAPH CLERK—THE MJÖSEN LAKE—THE DRONNINGEN—RUINED CATHEDRAL—UTILITARIANISM—LILLEHAMMER—ONCE MORE IN CAMP.
Our bill was moderate—four dollars, four marks, and eight skillings; twenty-four skillings for attendance seemed quite sufficient. Our things were all placed on a truck; Esmeralda carried Zacharia’s violin, our guitar, and our two extra caps, whilst we took our courier-bags, and, under our arm, in two satchels made for them, the two Regent-street tambourines. Our appearance certainly much resembled travelling musicians.
Bidding adieu to the kind people of the house, we were soon descending the winding road to the steamer. As we walked along, we could not help alluding to the astonishment our numerous friends would express if they could see us. Noah and Zacharia soon after met us; they had left the donkeys at the railway-station, and came to say the provisions had not arrived. When we reached the station, another telegram was sent, in which we mentioned Hudson Brothers, as consignors to Messrs. Wilson. The clerk of the telegraph office began to regard us as an habitué of the bureau, and we looked upon him as a pupil in the English language. We were astonished at his progress, and he was apparently equally so at our large expenditure of money in telegrams. Rather in mournful mood, we went to the wooden platform to which the steamer was moored. There was the box; there stood the donkeys; there the men to put them into the box, and the sling, to sling them on board. How are the donkeys to be put into the box? Vain were the efforts made—all to no purpose; the donkeys had made up their minds. At last, with the united efforts of four men, and Noah, one by one they were pulled, dragged, lifted, carried, forced, in wild resistance, over the passenger’s bridge, and along the deck, in sight of the astonished lookers-on. The “Puru Rawnee” and his companions were at length safely placed before the windlass on the fore-deck, close to four brass guns, ready loaded for a salute. We decided to go to Christiania, in search of the provisions, and sent another telegram to Mr. Bennett. The passage-money of our gipsies, and the three donkeys to Lillehammer, amounted to five dollars, seventeen marks; we also paid six marks for our gipsies’ dinner, including one bottle of “Baiersk Öl” between them, and a cup of coffee each. The captain kindly promised to look after them, and arrange for them to camp, when they got to Lillehammer. Just before leaving, we gave them some Norsk words for bread, cheese, coffee, &c. The old man in the white hat, our guardian angel, was, of course, at hand. With much anxiety he wrote down the words for Noah. Unfortunately, Noah could not read; but as the old man pronounced each word aloud, Noah followed, and the old man did not suspect, apparently, the neglected education of his pupil.
There was the sound of the coming train, just before eleven; down came the passengers, hurrying with their things to the steamer. There was the officer, and his wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather—we had met again. Their two carrioles[27] are put on board—hasty salutations—we learn that the invalid barrister has left Christiania for Bergen—they are going to Gjövik. We told him our dilemma, and he said we had hurried too quickly through Christiania. They had been busy making purchases at Christiania. Our conversation now ceases, for the steamer must depart. The stout captain took up his position on the steamer’s pont, and, taking out his watch, he gave the signal for starting. As the Dronningen glided along the still waters of the Mjösen, our “cushty chavos” (gip., good children) made farewell signals to their Romany Rye.
NORWEGIAN FENCE.
Another telegram to Mr. Bennett, to say we should be in Christiania at seven o’clock in the evening, no train leaving Eidsvold before the afternoon. The telegraph clerk expressed his astonishment at the number of our telegrams, and increased his stock of English. We felt lonely away from our people. It was a very warm day, and we had some hours on hand. Crossing the bridge at the head of the lake, near the railway station, we passed the houses on the opposite side, and walked along the dusty narrow road beyond. We could see nothing but inclosures on either side the road. The common style of Norwegian road fence consists of posts, with two long parallel rails, supporting a number of slanting rails, of shorter length, loosely placed between them.
There was no shade. The wooden log houses, here and there, had generally tiled roofs. No attempt was made at ornament or picturesque effect. Everything in the rough. We sat on the narrow road side, and noted up our diary; then we returned to the houses again near the bridge, and being hungry, boldly walked into one which bore some resemblance to a place of refreshment. They civilly said they had nothing, and that there was a house on the hill, beyond the station, where refreshment might be had. They meant the house at which we had lately stayed.[28] It was about half-past two o’clock when we again crossed the bridge, and called at the telegraph office. The polite clerk seemed rather pleased to see us, at the same time handing a telegram with much alacrity.