A traveller accosted us near the station, who was probably one of the passengers of the close carriage we had seen near Dovre. He seemed anxious to know how far we were going. No time was to be lost, for it was eight o’clock. We passed along the sandy road by a piece of rough broken ground, and then all the peasant boys left us when they found we did not camp there. At last, descending a short declivity of the road, we came to some open greensward lying between the road and the river. A narrow patch of turf with a stream running through it. On the opposite side the road a thick wood, inclosed by a fence, made an admirable shelter; a quiet retired place between two hillocks. As we came to the flat we saw the trace of fires, and at once unloaded and pitched our tents as far from the roadside as possible, and very near to the low river bank. It was a romantic camp-ground.
The view was beautiful—a rocky island in the river formed the foreground, and beyond we gazed upon the mountains of the Dovre Fjeld. The day’s toil was soon forgotten as the fire burnt brightly and night cast its dark shadows on our lonely camp. Our eggs were broken one by one into a bowl. If stale, they were consigned to the river; if fresh, to the frying-pan. About seventeen out of twenty-one remained for the omelette, which with bread formed our evening’s meal.
A jolly, pleasant old man came up whilst we were camping, and taking a dram of brandy bowed and retired. Then the donkeys strayed and a tall peasant came and helped Zachariah to search for them. The donkeys were found up a lane, at some distance from our camp, and Zachariah asked the man to ride one of them back, but the peasant shrunk from it with alarm, and said something which probably meant, “Not if I know it.” Zachariah mounted on one of the donkeys, drove the other two before him at racing speed, whilst the peasant followed almost dead with laughter. Zachariah informed us some carriers were halted for the night on the road-side, at a short distance from our camp. The name of the place, as far as we could make out, was Losere. We were left undisturbed, and in the quiet enjoyment of our camp fire, till we retired to rest.
On the top of the short road ascent, near our camp, a large gate led from the road towards a house above. Some traffic seemed to be going on towards this place. About four o’clock in the morning we heard a heavy tramp of horses’ feet, apparently close to our tent. Then there was the sound of a man’s voice—pūr-r-r-r! pūr-r-r-r. It was evident that the animal fought shy of our tent or the donkeys. We called to Noah, but beyond a heavy snort or two we had no response. We went out twice; the second time we saw a man with a pony going up the opposite ascent. His pony still fought very shy of one of the donkeys grazing near the road. About seven o’clock, when we were getting ready for breakfast, we saw a boy driving a load of wood towards the gate. The pony just as he came to the gate, seeing our tent below, turned suddenly round. We struck our tent, and going up found the boy with the wood fastened on a low, light Norwegian wood-carriage, overturned in a ditch. With Noah’s assistance the pony, timber, and carriage passed without difficulty through the gate, and we gave the boy four skillings, which seemed to astonish him.
In Norway we particularly noticed the temperate manner with which drivers manage their horses. All is patient kindness. The animals are in consequence docile to a degree. Beyond the quiet pūr-r-r-r, and a shake of the reins, nothing is heard; no coarse expletives, no brutality of treatment, such as we have occasionally witnessed in our own country, unworthy the Christian and the man. In England, necessity founded a society, and passed a stringent Act of Parliament, for the protection of dumb animals, &c., but in Norway it is unnecessary.[52]
A few peasants came up as we were loading our donkeys, and the gipsies gave them some music before we continued our journey. The soil now became very sandy, and the ground below the road jutted out into large promontories towards the river’s bank.
We were joined by a travelling shoemaker and his companion, who evinced much curiosity about the boots worn by our party. The route now ascended far above the river Logan, and the view became very wild. In some Scotch firs Noah and Zachariah and the shoemaker saw a squirrel, which had a narrow chance for its life; but to our satisfaction escaped. The wild flowers were beautiful. Esmeralda plucked them as we went along, and, as usual, presented the Rye with a handsome bouquet. The shoemaker and his friend left us at some bondegaard, and we soon after reached Dombaas. This is apparently named as Lie station in an early edition of Murray. The Dombaas Post Station is a short distance from the junction of the Romsdal and Throndjhem routes. The road to Romsdalen branches off to the left, and that to Throndjhem to the right. Dombaas appears to be an excellent station. We, of course, cannot give our actual experience; but we have no doubt most excellent accommodation would be found there. We halted in some open ground of the extensive forest on the opposite side the road to the station. What a ravishing scene met our view, as we sat down on the mossy turf, whilst the gipsies made preparations for dinner. What a wilderness of pine forest! On our right, the road we had just turned from continued over the Dovre Fjeld to Throndjhem. Not far from us, on the left of the road to Thronjhem, is the Snehœtten Fjeld, 7714 English feet above the level of the sea. The ascent to this mountain is gradual, and its peaked summit is only 3500 feet. Some few people came to see our donkeys; but they did not disturb us whilst we were preparing and taking our mid-day’s meal. Our meal consisted of fried bacon, one fish Zacharia had caught, and bread and tea. A very intelligent, pleasant young Norwegian came to us afterwards and spoke English. It is possible that he was the son of the owner of the station. He told us where there was good pasture for the donkeys; but we were going on, and did not intend to camp for the night. Yet we left with regret, for it was a beautiful ground for our tents. Large forests extended on various sides, with excellent pasture. A young ragged boy, to whom we gave some tobacco and brandy, came and conversed, whilst one, who was probably the owner of the station, stood in the road above, smoking his pipe as he contemplated our party. Whilst we wrote our notes, Noah loaded the donkeys, and he chaffed his brother and sister in a jumble of English, Romany, and a few Norwegian words he had now learnt. Two or three respectably dressed, quiet, well-fed men, who had come to see us, were probably connected with the station. The gipsies played a few tunes, and then we passed through the forest across two wild, brawling, rapid streams; and, ascending the steep road on the side of a picturesque valley, we came to some houses. We were at once followed by several boys; one of whom was very intelligent and spoke some English. Zachariah was mounted on the packs of one of the loaded donkeys. The boys evidently expected us to camp; but at last, after walking some distance, gave up in despair. The road now crossed the side of a mountain, with no inclosures. Below us lay the valley and the river. Finding we should shortly come to more houses and inclosures, we at once decided to camp without delay at the foot of a rocky slope covered with low scrub and bushes. As we were just unloading our donkeys, a man came in sight with an axe in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. The sight of our party soon stopped his progress. He looked as if he thought we were fairies or some such visitants to earth. The axe reminded us that our tent pole was now so broken as to be almost useless. We beckoned him in vain. The peasant had evidently resolved not to venture nearer. Noah and ourself, taking the broken tent pole, went to him and gave him a dram of brandy to screw up his courage. The peasant soon saw what we wanted, and taking the broken pole as a pattern, went off to make a new one.
As the gipsies lighted our fire, they noticed in the valley far below us, at the base of the mountains, a curling smoke, which they thought in the indistinctness of the evening to be a “gipsies’ camp.” Very anxious indeed were we to meet with a camp of Norwegian gipsies. Ever on the look-out—as yet we had been unable to meet with any Romany tents—the meeting of English gipsies with Norwegian zigeuner, and their greeting in Romany, would have been a most interesting study. The route we were travelling was evidently too much populated and frequented for these wanderers. Prœsten Sundt indeed says, “They choose the most devious and least-frequented roads or ways between Stavanger and Aggerhuus, and northwards away to Throndjhem and Finmarken.” Still there was the chance, and we hoped as we travelled northwards we should be fortunate enough to meet some gipsy tribe of dusky wanderers with their tents, horses, trappings, pigs, and baggage. In this instance, after watching for some short time with earnest attention, it was decided by our gipsies that the smoke did not issue from the camp of any of their people.
CHAPTER XVIII.
From every place condemn’d to roam,
In every place we seek a home.
These branches form our summer roof,
By thick-grown leaves made weather-proof.
In shelt’ring nooks and hollow ways,
We cheerily pass our winter days.
Come, circle round the gipsies’ fire,
Come, circle round the gipsies’ fire;
Our songs, our stories never tire.
Our songs, our stories never tire.
The Gipsies’ Glee. Reeve.