“Mr. Smith, you don’t like my smoking, sir; here’s the tobacco and pipe. I don’t wish you to say I didn’t do what you required.”
As Noah handed over the pipe and tobacco, one would have thought he had given up some dearly-prized treasure. Although we gave him the half-mark with pleasure, we could not help feeling some compunction; still, as “shorengro” (gipsy chief) of the party, we were bound to see the camp rules obeyed, and Noah knew them before he started. Pusillanimity and want of firmness would have destroyed the success of the expedition.
After tea we sat up to write our notes. The occurrences and events of each day must be written whilst they are fresh in the memory. Nor must they be left to remembrance, or the clear lettering of correctness and truth will be lost. What are now given are mere transcripts of notes written on the spot, and at the time. Whatever be their worth, rough as they are, it is hoped their truth will give them some value. We were glad to retire to rest. It rained heavily in the night. Once or twice the light Siphonia waterproof was blown off. Noah had to get up in the night to put it on, and to dig a trench round the tents. We could feel the moisture coming in from the bank above. It was with difficulty we kept our provisions dry.
Our first Sunday morning in camp. It was one of our camp rules never to travel on a Sunday. It was made a day of rest for ourselves and the animals. We looked forward throughout our travels to our Sunday for quietude and repose. The morning was dull and wet. We breakfasted about seven o’clock. The frokost (Nor., breakfast) consisted of fried bacon, bread, and tea. The materials for a soup for dinner were put ready. Whilst it was cooking, a German gentleman, accompanied by his skydskarl, came up from the road. He inquired if we were German. Then he informed us that there was an account of us in the newspapers. Having looked at our tents, we sent Zachariah with him to see the donkeys. The German gentleman seemed much gratified, and, shaking hands with Zachariah, left our camp. Many carriages passed along the road during the day. After our dinner of soup, made of ham, peas, flour, and Liebig’s essence of meat, we remained in our tents. Some young peasant men and women came and sat in the rain outside looking at us. We gave two of the peasants some brandy and tobacco. Then all our visitors left, except four interesting young peasant girls, who still lingered. One had an umbrella, and all four standing in the rain at a short distance from our camp, sang for us a Norwegian song to a pretty Norwegian air. They had pleasant voices. We listened to them with much pleasure. There was so much sweetness and feeling in the melody. It was a serenade of four Norwegian peasant girls. We appreciated their kind attention to wanderers from a far land. Though we could not converse, we thanked them with our looks when they afterwards left the camp.
PEASANT GIRLS’ SERENADE.
We had many visitors. At one time a group of five young peasant girls came and stood before our tents. Noah was too shy to go out and rocker Norwegian. Zachariah made up for his brother’s timidity. Full of fun, what dreadful faces the young gipsy would pull. They were absolutely frightful. Then he would twist and turn his body into all sorts of serpentine contortions. If spoken to, he would suddenly, with a hop, skip, and a jump, light in his tent, as if he had tumbled from the sky, and sitting bolt upright, making a hideous face, till his mouth nearly stretched from ear to ear, while his dark eyes sparkled with wild excitement, he would sing:—
“Dawdy! Dawdy! dit a kei,
Rockerony fake your bosh.”
At one time a woman brought an exceedingly fat child for us to look at, and she wanted Esmeralda to suckle it, which was of course hastily declined. We began to ask ourselves, if this was forest seclusion. Still, our visitors were kind, good-humoured people, and some drank our brandy, and some smoked our English tobacco. Had they not partaken of our salt? We, as Arabs of tent-life, gave them our friendly welcome. After our tea, at five o’clock we had a pleasant stroll. Once more we were with Nature. There we lingered, till the scenes round us, in their varied beauty, seemed graven deep in our thoughts. How graphic are the lines of Moore:— “The turf shall be my fragrant shrine,
My temple, Lord! that arch of thine
My censer’s breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
“My choir shall be the moonlight waves,
then murm’ring homeward to their caves,
Or when the stillness of the sea,
Even more of music breathes of thee.”
How appropriate, were the words of the great poet to our feelings. Returning between eight and nine o’clock, we found Esmeralda standing by the tents. We went in and sat down. Another party of visitors approached. Now and then they halted, as they looked towards our tents, and would then refer to a paper. They stood occasionally for a few moments in earnest discussion. We were much puzzled to make out what they were doing, as we sat in our tent looking at them. One of the party, a tall, fine-looking man in plaid trousers, large beard, and cap, advanced. As we bowed, he handed us a Norwegian newspaper, and pointed to a paragraph, which we soon found related to ourselves. They all took some brandy; and when we offered to buy the newspaper, they most kindly presented it to us. Then Zacharia took them to see the donkeys. When they returned, we made them understand, that they were at the camp of the Englishman, referred to in the paragraph. They inspected the tents and pinthorns. They felt the blanket coverings, and also the waterproof Siphonian cover. Examined our camp kettle; and we explained to them the mysteries of our Russian lamp. There was much discussion among them about our tents. They stood by them for a quarter of an hour. Perhaps the description in the paragraph was not quite understood. The paragraph ran thus, and underneath we give an English translation:—