We had halted about 10 o’clock, and we left at 4 o’clock. Noah was quite unwell, and all suffered, more or less, from mosquito bites of the previous night. As we looked back, we could not help pausing some few minutes, to admire the picturesque outline of the mountains. We had not been long en route when three Englishmen in carrioles, came suddenly round a turn in the road. We heard one exclaim, “Gipsies!” as they overtook us, and drove by. We noticed the first was a bronzed, military, good-looking man. The driver of the second carriole, who was an excellent specimen of the English gentleman, said something, and bowed, and they were rapidly followed by a younger gentleman, and soon out of sight. Two or three travellers with carrioles met us afterwards, and looked at us with much curiosity as they passed. The evening was fine and enjoyable; the country on either side, was well wooded and mountainous. The river Logan added much to the picturesque beauty of the scene. Suddenly a carriole appeared behind us, driven by one who was evidently bent on salmon fishing. He wore a mackintosh, and had a south-wester over his head. When any carriages appeared my gipsies immediately got our donkeys in line along the side of the road. Noah at the head of the first, Zachariah the second, and Esmeralda led the third, so that they were all kept well out of the way. The traveller’s Norwegian pony seemed a little shy in passing us; but the traveller was driving quietly by, as the donkeys were halted, when down jumped the Skydskarl, and rushed to the pony’s head, which was suddenly checked into the road fence.
“What the devil are you doing, boy!” shouted the driver, whose nationality was unmistakable.
Esmeralda went to the pony’s head. We could hardly help laughing.
“Let go his head,” shouted our enraged countryman at the boy. Poor fellow, he was too bewildered, and probably did not understand English. With redoubled energy as he stared at the donkeys, he kept pulling the pony’s head against the fence, whilst Esmeralda was pulling the contrary way. In vain the traveller urged the pony. Wildly the Skydskarl held its head down.
“Get behind, boy,” shouted the traveller, “you’re pulling back. He’s quiet enough—let go, boy!!”
At last the Skydskarl retreated in confusion to the back of the carriole, half crying. The traveller was soon out of his difficulty, and rapidly disappeared along the road, apparently intent on his fishing expedition. Occasionally we came to a rural cottage, at one of which we noticed a lamb, and a goat. Zachariah played a pretty slow waltz, as we lounged along the road, all rather sleepy and tired. There was something of pure romance, and feeling, as we stood apart in spirit, and contemplated our calvacade, pushing their way to some unknown camping ground. There was our fine, strong, light-coloured donkey, with its Jerusalem cross, carrying its heavy packs with ease, stepping to the music of the bells on its scarlet collar. There was something soothing in those bells, timed by the animal’s movement. Then followed the puro rye, and the tarno rye, contrasting in colour. There was Zachariah walking by their side, now and then performing, a slow waltz, to the tune he was playing on his violin. However long the day, however wet and disagreeable the weather, still his gleaming eyes and merry ha! ha! dit a kei, the tarno rye, by gum, Mr. Smith is going to dell (gip., give) mandy a metramengery (gip., tea) this evening. Then came the tall form of Noah with his Alpine stock, and deer-stalking hat, set jauntily on one side. Noah was an admirable fellow for loading and packing; he had much improved since our campaign last summer; never out of temper, with plenty of energy and determination. By our side walked Esmeralda, in her long tweed cloak, fastened round her waist, small hat and feather, and thick boots studded with nails. Our guitar, in a light cover, was slung over her shoulder, whilst we carried, in a light cover, made on purpose, her tambourine, with our courier bag. Tall and slim, with raven hair, and jet black eyes, about our own height, the young gipsy girl had an indomitable spirit. Sometimes she caught hold of our hand, so that it might be more help to her, as we journeyed onwards, for she had had no sleep the previous night, and was much tired, all had been dreadfully bitten with mosquitos. The log houses we came to, had their groups of peasants waiting to see us. Some would run with tumultuous haste, to be in time, and a red cap generally appeared prominently as one of the number. They had often a good-humoured smile on their countenances. It was lovely scenery all the way, especially when we reached the turning to “Venebrygden” and crossed a rapid, broad stream, issuing from a rocky gorge, beneath a lofty mountain, whose base to nearly its summit, was covered with fir. An old man with a wallet came from a log house, near the road, and we gave him a piece of money. At length we came to a place we were told was Listari. It was a large house of superior construction, on the road side, with extensive buildings, and an appearance of much comfort. Some heads appeared at the windows as we approached. Then we heard the sudden clatter of feet, running downstairs, to obtain a nearer view of our party.
There was an excited rush. One gentleman stuck to a front window commanding the road, and looked at us with a curious, and amused expression of countenance. The old man with the wallet joined us again, and we gave him another piece of two shillings. He said something, which we thought meant camping ground beyond, and passed on. We were now anxious to camp. Coming near Listad we noticed some unenclosed ground, rising in a steep slope, to the base of some fine bold precipitous rocks, close above the valley. The sloping ground was steep, with little grass, covered with loose rocks and scattered birch-trees. A rough turf-way led apparently to a first ridge, of lofty ground, immediately above the road. Zachariah went up first, and hearing his peculiar gipsy whistle, we all climbed the track, rough with uneven grassy hillocks, studded with birch-trees, and sheltered by rocks. In a small hollow, near a rough fence, at the summit of the ridge, our donkeys were unloaded. It was a beautiful camping ground for our night’s repose.
CHAPTER XIV.
“He grows, like the young oak, healthy and broad,
With no home but the forest, no bed but the sward;
Half naked, he wades in the limpid stream,
Or dances about in the scorching beam.
The dazzling glare of the banquet sheen
Hath never fallen on him, I ween;
But fragments are spread, and the wood-fire piled;
And sweet is the meal of the gipsy child.”
Eliza Cook.
A GORGIO—COMFORTABLE BONDEGAARDS—MORE SPEILE—THE LOST KEY—DEN ASEN TOUJOURS—VEGETABLE SUBSTITUTE—THE GOODLO DISCUSSION—WIVES’ UTILITY—FRIENDLY PEASANTS—NORWEGIAN WALTZ—GIPSY CHAFF—THE DARK WOMAN—ANXIOUS QUERISTS—EARLY VISITORS—TIMID WOMAN—GIPSIES APPRECIATED—THE CHARMING POST-MISTRESS—THE MANSION NEAR HARPE BRÖ.