On our left we saw the Lake by Lœsje, and at last came to a shallow stream in a large forest of Scotch firs open to the road. The soil was light and sandy; large masses of moss-covered rocks were scattered through the forest, and here and there we saw open glades amongst the trees. To a spot pleasantly secluded from the road the donkeys were driven. The day being Saturday, we expected our Sunday would be spent as a day of quiet and repose, but it was an illusory hope. The ground was covered by a kind of heath with foliage like our boxtree. We had no sooner unpacked, than the gipsies looked round and two gorgios were announced. It did not matter how secluded the spot, in less than two minutes one or two Norwegian peasants seemed to rise out of the ground; indeed if they had been smaller, and had not chewed tobacco, we should have taken them for fairies; two peasants were now gazing at our party.
The plaid bag was called for, and they quaffed brandy to Gamle Norge and filled their pipes with tobacco. One said something about a better place, but we were content to rest where we were now that we had unloaded.
The stream flowing to the Lake on the other side the road was conveniently near. A slice of fried ham and an egg each was consumed, and Noah and Zachariah were sent to the Lake to fish. When they returned at eight o’clock, Esmeralda had the tea ready; they had caught five trout, which were soon in our tetteramengry (gip. frying-pan) with four eggs. The news had spread. The peasants came in numbers; whilst Esmeralda was frying our fish our visitors earnestly chewed and spit in all directions about our fire; some went to the donkeys, some inspected our things, the rest closed in upon Esmeralda, who could scarcely complete her cooking.
We could see indications of a white squall on the usually smiling countenance of our gipsy Hobbenengree;[53] sometimes she shoved them right and left, and said something about gorgios getting in her road.
“Now then!” said Esmeralda in a fume, “chiv the Metteramengery, just dik the gorgios all round. I can’t think what they all want to see.” It was very excusable, our peasant friends had never seen our donkeys, or tents, or gipsies before, still if they would have left us quietly whilst we were at tea we should have much preferred it. When we were seated near the fire, the peasant men, women, and children closed round us; it was difficult to decide, as we watched their countenances, whether they thought our meal well or indifferently cooked; it might not have been up to a dinner produced at Les Trois Frères, (we hope the Communists have spared it). Nor had we champagne frappé, but under the circumstances we found our tea from Phillips’s, King William Street, a very good substitute. Esmeralda was an excellent cuisinière, especially when the gorgios gave her sufficient elbow room; nor had we any means of ascertaining their ideas as to the luxury of the diet. This with some other matters must remain one of the unsolved mysteries of this book. The intense and solemn earnestness with which our visitors watched every scrap we ate was interrupted by a peasant woman’s child, who was taken with a cascade fit, and very near made an important addition to Zachariah’s pannikin of tea. This closed rather abruptly our soirée. Noah went to pitch the tents, Esmeralda put up the tea things, and though rather reluctant, as she said, to play for the gorgios, at our request accompanied Zachariah on the tambourine. Our visitors seemed much pleased; Zachariah was irrepressible with Romany chaff, although I had cautioned him to be careful when we had visitors. The music ended, eleven o’clock came, no signs of any one leaving; what with Esmeralda shouting from the inside our tents at those who touched the outside, and Noah and Zachariah tumbling with wild merriment, we were au désespoir, until taking hold of Zachariah, we threw him, after a brief tussle, into the tent, and caught him such a box that he was effectually silenced. There was a gipsy collapse. We informed the visitors we wanted to go to bed, and they quietly left, except some few who still clung to the donkeys at some distance away.
We began to think we should end our days as a showman, or the respectable manager of a strolling company of players. It was a beautiful moonlight night, as we strolled forth for a few minutes before retiring to rest. Just going to sleep, we heard Zachariah’s voice, in melancholy and watery tone: “Mr. Smith’s tired of me,” whimpered he; “next time he’ll try and do without me; some people change. Mr. Smith’s changed; I hope he’ll get another as will do as well.” We seized the opportunity to explain his real position, and his proper line of conduct; the gipsies had received much kindness from us, we shared with them our provisions whatever we had. Somehow gipsies, donkeys, tents, and accessories seemed to have become part and parcel of our existence. They gave us a dreamy happiness, as we floated along by mountain, river, lake, and forest. The gipsies’ wild energy never flagged; we could pull through any difficulty; wet and fine, storm and sunshine, still our tents found a resting-place in the wild scenes of a beautiful and hospitable land. The gipsies saw the force of our observations, and with “cushty raty” to all, we were soon in a sound sleep.
We did not get up very early; it was nearly nine o’clock; Esmeralda had a slight cold. The morning was very fine, and the last three or four days had been very warm. Noah went out, and found the peasants had already collected, and were increasing in numbers. Noah made tea, fried two excellent trout with four eggs, which, with bread and fladbröd and butter, formed our frokost.
The visitors were so numerous that we had breakfast in our tent. Whilst at breakfast a peasant would occasionally try to look at us through the opening we were obliged to have for ventilation. We were at last obliged to speak rather sharp to those pressing against our tent, and they were more careful; we had very little fault to find. We do not believe they would ever give intentional annoyance; in fact, the kindness we received on all occasions throughout our wanderings will ever be remembered.
As the sun rose our tents became very warm; we strolled out, dressed in our light blue flannel jacket, white waistcoat, light trousers, long Napoleon riding boots, and straw hat, which was the only one we possessed. It was a deliciously warm morning; on the opposite side of the lake we could see the Kjölen Fjeldene rising above it. Our camp was in a large forest, extending towards the Stor Horungen. The Jora Elv, which we had crossed near Dombaas, flows between the Stor Horungen and Hundsjö Fjeldet; then on its left banks are the mountains called “Sjung Hö” and the “Tvœraatind,” and on the right the “Mjugsjö Hö,” “Skreda Hö,” and beyond are the wilds of the “Snehœtten”. The Jora Elv falls into the Logan near Dombaas. This extensive tract of mountain, forest, lake, and river is as yet, we believe, little known to anglers.
We bought twelve eggs from a peasant woman for twelve skillings; a boy brought six trout, which we also bought for twelve skillings. We confess to feelings of melancholy that, with three fly-rods and an immense stock of flies, in a country like Norway, we should so far lower our dignity as a sportsman as to buy trout. Still four hungry people to be fed much influenced the purchase. We hoped for better things, which might remove this passing shadow from the annals of our angler’s life.