Our gipsy tents were carefully inspected, then our waterproofs, pockets, bags, and other things. The method of pitching our tents was explained. Before he went he gave us a bottle of brandy which he did not want, and promised to inquire if anything had been heard of our lost caps. His driver, we thought, was under the impression that the captain would take up his residence with us. Noah came up as our visitor was leaving. The rain cleared off, and, wishing us good-by, he was soon driving rapidly towards Christiania. Our visitors continued, successively, until tea time. For our tea, we had more fried trout. An old man brought us a quantity of fladbröd and butter, for which we paid tenpence. Wire was procured at Laurgaard to suspend our boiling-can and kettle over the fire. The loss of our kettle-prop put us to much inconvenience. At eight o’clock, the peasants, notwithstanding the rain, came to our camp for dancing; fortunately, the rain ceased, and they seemed to enjoy themselves very much. One tall, powerful, middle-aged peasant, who came with our visitors, was very fond of dancing. He was, apparently, the respectable owner of a gaard in the neighbourhood. Though very anxious for Esmeralda to dance with him, she would only dance with ourself or Noah. Then he asked us to dance with one of the young peasant girls, probably, a daughter, or some relation, which we did. She was the best dancer; a very good type of the Norwegian peasant-girl, tall, quiet, modest, and good-looking; we found her an excellent partner. Our beaux of the village kept up the dancing and the gipsies their music. “Lend me your shoes” must have put his friend to some expense for repairs, and “Slim-slam,” the reindeer-hunter, nobly did his duty. We were almost bewildered at times. It was hard work to control the exuberant spirits of our gipsies. The amount of Romany chaff was something extraordinary. Fortunately, our visitors did not understand it, nor do we think the gipsies understood much of it themselves. Their gaiety knew no bounds. Esmeralda once laughed loud enough to frighten the reindeer from the Rudane Fjeld. She had more than one severe doing, as she called it, during the evening.
CHAPTER XVII.
No lust of wealth, nor scent of distant war,
Nor wisdom’s glory lures them on afar;
’Tis not for these the children of the night
Have burst at once on realms of life and light;
’Tis the dread curse—behind them and before—
That goads them on till time shall be no more;
They claim no thrones—they only ask to share
The common liberty of earth and air—
Ask but for room to wander on alone,
Amid earth’s tribes, unnoticed and unknown.
Dean Stanley’s Oxford Prize Poem, The Gipsies.
GIPSIES’ AFFECTION—LAURGAARD ADIEU—BEAUTIFUL GORGES—ONWARD EVER—ESMERALDA’S IRISH SONG—DOVRE—FRIENDLY TRAVELLERS—THE KRAMBOD—THE HERR TOFTE—KING’S VISIT—OUR NIGHT CAMP—NIGHT DISTURBANCE—KINDNESS TO ANIMALS—OUR BEAUTIFUL BOUQUET—SNEHÆTTEN FJELD—DOMBAAS—COMFORTABLE SITUATION—WILD SCENERY—OPPORTUNE VISIT—ILLUSORY HOPE.
More than once we were half-inclined to tie a loose piece of rock to our gipsies’ necks and throw them into the Logan; still, we had promised to bring them back, dead or alive, to their parents. Gipsies, whatever their faults may be, have boundless affection for their offspring, perhaps too much so. A promise is a promise; we kept ours. Our music ceased in the valley of Laurgaard, and we wished our visitors all good-by. Many lingered by the donkeys as we retired to our tent, and watched the picturesque valley before us. The delightful stillness seemed to give to our musings a charm and novelty only experienced in tent life. Then we heard the sound of merry voices in the road below; a children’s game; the peasant boys united to keep the girls from coming up the bank to the road. Sometimes there were sharp and vigorous contests, and the girls, for a time, had almost taken the road by storm. Here and there we saw single-handed encounters; then several girls, who had maintained the struggle, would be pushed down, and rolled over the bank pell-mell on one another. Now and then boys would be dragged from the road and swung in a heap on the green sward. To whom the victory, we know not; exposure to the open air predisposes to sleep. What a deep and refreshing sleep was ours when all was still. In the early morning, within view of Laurgaard and its bridge, the tents of the wanderers, with three donkeys browsing near, might be seen on the hill side.
We were late the next day, for we did not rise before seven o’clock. At eight o’clock, we had a good breakfast of trout; they were excellent. The old fisherman with red cap came to see us again, and gave us some reindeer flesh; we made him a present of some fishing-flies.
Striking camp, with a hearty farewell to those peasants who came as we were leaving, we were again en route. Esmeralda, Noah, and Zachariah were full of spirits, as we entered the beautiful wild gorge beyond Laurgaard. A man from a sæter in the mountains followed us for some short distance, and we saw him afterwards sitting on an eminence, watching us as we toiled up the steep ascent of the romantic glen.
At Romungaard, near Laurgaard, Colonel Sinclair stayed the night previous to his death at the Kringelen. The road also branches off from Laurgaard to Vaage. On either side the mountain slopes were thickly wooded with Scotch fir, interspersed with birch. We had a long ascent from Laurgaard, but the scenery amply repaid us for our toil.[51] The river foamed in the rocks below, and at one place Zachariah tried his fly, but without success. The Haalangen Fjeld, and the Rusten Fjeld bounded our route on either side. We met several carrioles, and some peasants followed us. At last, we came to a small wood of alder bushes, open to the road. On the opposite side the valley we noticed a very large house. The donkeys were no sooner unloaded, than a tall young man and several peasants came to us. It is not pleasant to have visitors pressing round when you are preparing for your bivouac meal. Explaining that if they would leave us for half-an-hour we would give them some music they at once left. Our mid-day’s meal, consisting of fish, was scarcely finished when our visitors returned. The tall young man was a very intelligent fellow. The peasant who had introduced us to our partner the evening before was there. We sang our gipsy song with the guitar; Zachariah and Noah played for them; and one of our visitors also played some Norwegian airs. The order was at length given to load; Noah did so, with a considerable amount of chaff with his brother and sister. All being ready, we bade our visitors adieu, who seemed disappointed we were not going to camp there for the night.
The valley now became more open, and we began to descend towards “Dovre.” The usual number of peasants came at various points on the road to see us; sometimes Zachariah played his violin, sometimes Esmeralda sang. One song was an Irish song; it is a curious specimen of song lore. Esmeralda would sometimes dance as she sang the words of the song; we have never met with it before, and therefore give the words. The song and the dance, and air, by the gipsy girl, with all the accessories of pine forest, rising mountains, and a wilderness of interesting scenery, was very effective.