CHAPTER XIII.
Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope and fear and peace and strife,
In the thread of human life.
Song of Meg Merrilies. Sir Walter Scott.
WET TRAVELLING—VODVANG—OUR RUSSIAN LAMP—SWEDISH VISITORS— ALL WELL—MY HOBBINENGREE—THE CHILD OF NATURE—GUITAR SONGS—THE VILLAGE BEAU—MERLES GONE—THE MUSKETOS’ VICTORY —MORE RAIN—SCOTCH TRAVELLER—TIMBER FLOATERS—GIPSIES— ENRAGED ENGLISHMAN—THE FRIGHTENED SKYDSKARL—GIPSIES’ ENDURANCE—THE LISTARI COMMOTION—LISTAD SCENERY.
Our donkeys were pressed onwards, and passed some carts laden with merchandise. Anxiously our gipsies looked out for a camping ground. The waters of the lake, dashed in waves on the stony shore. The wind and rain met us in the teeth. Misty clouds gathered on the summit of the mountains opposite, as we travelled along at a quick pace. The packs on our donkeys, were carefully covered with our waterproofs. In vain we looked at every point for a camping ground. At one log cottage on the hill above the road, a woman with a yellow handkerchief over her head, rushed out, and ran down towards the road. Then a boy suddenly appeared on the other side of the house, and throwing up his arms when he saw us, they revolved like the sails of a windmill, as he struggled with quickened pace after the woman. Both ran towards an eminence of ground at some distance below the house near the road. “I hope they will get safe down,” remarked we to our gipsies. Sometimes the boy gained upon the woman. The race was exciting. Speculations were hazarded as to which would get in first. The woman might fall, but she did not, and won the race. Both stood in breathless contemplation as we passed. At last we reached Vodvang, splashed, wet, and weary.
There were not many houses at Vodvang. People were looking out of their windows, and several men had collected on the balcony of a large house, probably the gjœstgiver-gaard, to see us as we passed. The church was a quaint wooden structure painted red. The monumental records in the graveyard round it, were few in number—small wooden crosses, generally of similar pattern. Two men followed us along the road. Noah was sent up a wild-looking pathway to the top of a wooded hill, but found no camping ground. Then we inquired from the two men, who pointed several times to a thick fir wood a short distance beyond. We gave them twelve skillings, which they seemed very reluctant to take, and wished to return, but we said it was drike penge, and left them. Proceeding as fast as our donkeys could travel, for it was now past eight o’clock, we at length came to a private road, leading, through a gate, to the wood. There was no time to hesitate. We must go somewhere. Zachariah swung open the gate, and our wayworn looking party, were soon in a large, and picturesque forest glade. The track apparently led to some house. Almost immediately, we unloaded our baggage, and commenced pitching our tents, in a small gulley below the forest track.
The tent rods were scarcely in the ground, when up came three men, and two boys. The brandy flask was brought out in the heavy rain, and brandy poured out for the three men. They seemed pleased that we were going to camp there, and showed us a better place in the wood, for the donkeys to graze, than where Zachariah had tethered them. It was raining fast. Noah and Zachariah were wet through. Esmeralda not very dry; and our own boots and legs very wet. Our gipsies were not easily dispirited. We could not have selected better people for our campaign; accustomed to all weathers from their infancy, they met with ourselves cheerfully, all difficulties. Our tents were soon pitched, the siphonia waterproof cover fastened, and our things stowed away. Then the fire must be lighted in the rain. Whilst we prepared the Russian lamp, Noah gathered sticks. Only damp ones could be got. A crowd of peasants had come to our camp, and watched with curious interest our Russian lamp. They looked on with much astonishment, especially when the Russian lamp, underneath the sticks, gave forth its brilliant stream of flame. At the first trial the lamp ignited the sticks, but the fire was soon extinguished by the falling rain.
A boy kindly brought us some dry wood, and notwithstanding the rain, our lamp succeeded upon the second trial, and our kettle was soon boiling for tea.
Just as we had made the tea, Noah called out in Romany, that a boro rye (gip., great gentleman) was a vellin (gip., coming). The new visitor was a young gentleman wearing spectacles. He said he was not a native of Norway, but from Sweden. He was staying at a large house on the side of the wood above the road, and had seen our party come up in the rain from the main route. Two ladies who were travelling with him were in the forest track near our tents. Though he did not speak French, he informed us that one of the ladies was well acquainted with the language. The ladies then came to our camp. The rain had partly ceased. One of the ladies, yet young and good-looking, possessed an ease and dignity of manner we have seldom met with. She asked permission, in French, to see our tents. How useful we always find the French language as a medium of communication in our wanderings over the world. The tents were examined. Our gipsies were described as gitanos, who always dwelt in tents and were faithful to us. The young lady, her companion, who seemed amused during the visit, was also much interested in our wild, wandering life. At length, after a pleasant conversation, they all three left our camp. Then we had our tea. The peasants did not come during the meal, lest they might disturb us. When a number of them came afterwards, Zachariah played his violin, and Noah and Esmeralda their tambourines. Great curiosity was manifested, whilst Zachariah, all life and spirit, sitting in his damp clothes, on the wet grass by the fire, was ever pulling queer faces, new and then saying, “Dit a kei, look at that Bongy mouee, ha, ha”; and again they played some lively and spirited tune. We lounged in a corner of our tent. The Swedish gentleman came again. For some time he sat with Noah by the camp fire, asking occasional questions in broken English. He was lively and pleasant, and much fun seemed going on. Noah gave him some very original answers. The peasants seemed anxious to see us all in bed, but at last dispersed, and we fell asleep.
After a sound and refreshing night’s rest we were up at 7 o’clock; the morning was fine, and we could now appreciate the beauties of the woodland scene. The forest extended over the rocky hills, which bounded the valley. Esmeralda bustled about to prepare our breakfast; no one was the worse for the toil and fatigue of yesterday. Some peasants came, and were told we should give them some music at Otta Klokken (Nor., 8 o’clock). Noah and Zachariah were furnished with fishing tackle, and sent off fishing.[40] The Swedish gentleman and the two ladies, we observed early in the morning, passing along a track through the wood near our camp. We both saluted. They were making an excursion, partly on foot, through Norway. As they crossed the river, they met Zachariah, and asked him if he always slept out in tents, and how many they were in family. The morning was devoted by Esmeralda and ourself to our camp arrangements; she was becoming an excellent housekeeper. What an impulsive dark-eyed girl! notwithstanding her odd sayings, and at times roughly turned phrases, one could not but admire the rude energy, and exercise of will she possessed. Noah and Zachariah returned. Mid-day meal consisted of broiled ham, tea, and bread and cheese. Two men came, and also the woman with bare legs, who had visited our last camp; they took much interest in our Australian method of making tea.[41] Some children who came had bread and butter; one man had tobacco, and as they sat near, our musical box seemed to give them much pleasure. The two men suggested a better spot in the wood for the donkeys to feed, and they were taken there. Esmeralda and ourself left at 3 o’clock, and ascending a steep hill through the forest, reached some broken rocks, where we had a delightful view. After we had seated ourselves, we wrote our notes, and Esmeralda, who sat at our side, conversed occasionally. Who could feel other than regret, at so much want of culture, and so much wild sterility of mind, yet if she had undergone the modern methods of training, she would no longer have been the wild flower of nomadic life; she would not have been my companion in the wild forest, the valley, and lonely glen. There was much that was impulsive, and original, much that was impassioned, and sensitive in her powers of appreciation. It was astonishing, with all her disadvantages, she was what she was. As the brilliant sunshine of a Norwegian evening, gilded the pine forests, and distant fjelds, the indescribable feeling of happy freedom, cast its bright rays upon our hearts. Lingering for a moment, as we shut our note book we quitted a scene we may never view again, and returned through broken forest glades, to our camp, ready for tea at 6 o’clock. When we reached our camp, no one was there. Noah came in soon after, having been in quest of eggs. When our tea, and bread and butter was consumed, Zachariah returned from a boating expedition; presently the peasants came, and asked when the music would begin. Taking out our watch we told them it was five minutes to 8, and we should begin at 8 o’clock. We sat in our tents, and opened our concert, first with our gipsy song and guitar accompaniments, and then with the “Mocking Bird.” The tents were decorated with a picture of Alpine scenes. One or two tunes were played by all our gipsy party, but the peasants crowded round our tents until they nearly brought them down. Finding they wished to dance, we took some rugs, and went to the side of the flat roadway through the forest.
The forest scene pleased us; the evening was very fine. Zachariah never tired as he played his violin; sometimes we joined with castanets, sometimes with guitar, and occasionally with tambourine, relieving each other by turns.