Noah, after a coaching in Norwegian words, went to seek bread-and-butter (smör og bröd) at the farm-house. He was to display some money in his open hand as an additional inducement. No result being reported on his return, we sent him a second time to the charge for fladbröd, but they had not got any to part with. We lighted our fire; tea was made, and a pleasant meal of fried bacon, college biscuits and butter, was soon concluded. Bread was bought, when we had the chance, in order to save our biscuits.
It was now decided to have our tents pitched for the night. Noah had just made the holes with the kettle-prop, and was putting in the tent rods, when a number of people suddenly appeared at the edge of the embankment above. Down came a tall gentleman, apparently between fifty and sixty, followed by probably his son and a short stout gentleman. He said something in a tone of authority to Noah, who, not understanding what was said, went on calmly with his tent-pitching. We were at a short distance from Noah with Esmeralda, arranging some of our baggage. It appeared to us that something about illegal was said: breakers ahead crossed our mind; we must port helm. We advanced to Noah’s assistance, and said in Norsk—“Good evening;” then we quietly reached out our silver-mounted flask, and pouring out a small glass of brandy, handed it to the senior of the party. He handed it back politely for us to drink first. We just tasted it, and said, Gamle Norge.[37] He took a small sip and then emptied the glass. We poured out another and handed it to the younger visitor, whom we took to be the son, a well-dressed, nice-looking, gentlemanly young fellow, who drank some of it. His father seemed one whose views of the world were stern and not on the lively side of the picture. His son had a pleasant twinkle in the eye, and seemed rather amused at the scene. The father then began apparently asking questions. We did not understand much of what he said, and Noah and Zachariah continued putting in the tent-rods, without troubling themselves about the matter. It was necessary to say something, and we informed them we were going at four o’clock next morning, pointing to our watch; and thinking it best to clench the affair, we quietly opened our courier-bag, and handed the document kindly given us by the Presten Eilert Sundt. We felt much in the position of the Harlequin and Columbine, who are suddenly brought to a dead lock in a Christmas representation, and have to invoke for their safety some good genius of extraordinary power. We quickly observed the countenance of the senior gentleman who commenced reading. “Herr Hubert Smith from England, with Tater (Rommanes gipsies), three donkeys, and two tents, &c., travelling from Christiania to Romsdal, Voringfos, &c., to Christiansand, to see the country and study the Norwegian gipsies, etc.; with a final request that we should have help and assistance from his countrymen,” &c.[38] When our visitors came to the signature, “Eilert Sundt!!!” said the senior gentleman in a deep whisper to his son; the son, who was also looking over the paper, seemed equally astonished. They examined the seal for a few moments, and handed the document back. Without saying more, they watched the tents which were put up soon after. They seemed rather surprised at our tent with all its paraphernalia and fittings, and then politely lifting their hats and bowing, without another word they suddenly left the scene. The people who were collected on the top of the embankment as spectators evidently did not seem to understand how it was. Perhaps some terrific example was expected to be made of our tall gipsy, Noah, as a warning to all the gipsies in Norway. It is impossible to say, and probably it will remain one of the links in the history of our wanderings which can never be supplied, nor is it of much consequence.
CHAPTER XI.
Ewn law law, cymm’rwn lili,
A’u blodau’n rhanau i ni,
A bysedd rhwymwn bosi,
Ffel yw hyn nid ffol wyt ti,
Rhoet yn glòs, fel ar rosyn,
Gwlwm da ar galon dyn.
Let’s hand in hand pursue our way,
And pluck the lily as we stray,
Its flowers pretty we will take,—
Our fingers can a posy make.
This, and with a fragrant rose,
Place on man’s heart, whence goodness flows.
Welsh Pennillion, by Leathart.
NIGHT ALARM—THE PURU RAWNEE—DONKEYS ADMIRED—NORWEGIAN PONIES—OUR GIPSY LIFE—NORWEGIAN FLOWERS—WILD FOREST—THE PIPE OF TOBACCO—PICTURES OF IMAGINATION—THE CRIPPLED MAN—CAMP NEAR HOLMEN—NOAH’S SELF-DENIAL—WET NIGHT—PEASANT GIRLS’ SERENADE—ZACHARIAH’S GAIETY—LOVELY NATURE—NORWEGIAN NEWSPAPER—THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED—FROKOST SPOILT.
Our tents were pitched with a balk towards the embankment, made with our blue rug embellished with foxes’ heads. The rug was stretched along our Alpine stocks driven in the ground. At the top of the embankment, some of the people still remained watching. Our large siphonia waterproof was stretched, and fastened over the intervening space between the tents. Only an opening was left close to the edge of the steep and almost perpendicular declivity.
The sound of the river was music to us, as it foamed in the stillness of the night. We retired within the parascenium or partition of our tent, and were soon asleep. Soundly we slept, lulled by the roar of the falls of the Honnefos; we did not even hear the noise of a small stone afterwards thrown against the tent from above, or the rush of Noah and Zachariah outside with nothing on but their shirts, nor their shouts to the people above, who only laughed, and had no doubt done it merely to take a last fond look of our tall gipsy, Noah. They must have been profoundly impressed by their very picturesque attire.
We awoke at 12.20; it was rather too early for our start, so we turned, missed the time, and awoke at half-past five instead of four o’clock. The word was given. All were soon stirring. It had rained heavily in the night. Tents were struck, donkeys packed; at a quarter past seven o’clock we were en route. Esmeralda was as lively as possible. We were all in excellent spirits, our donkeys stepping out bravely with their loads. Our beautiful Puru Rawnee leads the way, the hawk bells jingling on its light collar of scarlet bocking. At every place we passed, we had a rush of the country peasants to see us. It was amusing to observe their eagerness to be in time, as they left their occupations in hot haste to gaze upon our donkeys. At some places we had been expected. Some mysterious intimation had been given, and the peasants were ready drawn up waiting with great expectations our approach. As we journeyed onwards, it was desirable to buy bread to save our stock of biscuits. Noah tried at one or two houses. The first was a large house where they were evidently waiting our arrival. The windows were embellished by many heads: the female sex predominated; most of the males appeared in a courtyard opening to the road. “Try here,” we said to Noah, giving him some money to take in his hand, “and say, ‘smör og bröd.’” He was not successful, for he was shown into a large room, with coffee, bread, &c., on the table. Probably he could not make any one understand, or they had no bread to sell, for he returned empty-handed. One man we noticed soon afterwards running in the distance across the fields. It was amusing to see the wild struggles he made to be in time. With much sympathy for his unwonted efforts to accomplish so much speed, we had regulated the pace of our donkeys to give him a chance.
At last we came to a quiet part of the road between two fir woods, with a narrow space of green sward on each side; a rippling stream crossed the road in its course to the River Logan. The sun gleamed pleasantly forth. Our fire was soon lighted, and our meal consisted of biscuit, Australian preserved meat, and tea. The Australian meat was much appreciated as an edible: we were all agreeably surprised to find it so good. In a country like Norway, it is indispensable to those who seek the freedom of camp-life. As we concluded our meal down came the rain, but we were prepared, and all our things were immediately under our large waterproof. Then we sheltered ourselves with the waterproof rugs, and quietly waited for the heavy shower to cease. Several carrioles were driven by, and some carts passed. Noah had to lead one pony who shied at our donkeys; another pony had to be taken out and coaxed by them. The Norwegian ponies, who are the most docile animals in the world, were often suspicious of our harmless donkeys, who, quietly browsing, looked as unlike dangerous ferocity as could possibly be imagined. The rain ceased. It was eleven. Esmeralda and ourselves pushed on along the road with two donkeys already loaded, whilst Noah and Zachariah were putting the remaining baggage on the third. When they came in sight shortly afterwards, Esmeralda said we must pretend to be strange gipsies, and ask them where they were gelling to.