At this juncture a storm of rain came on, and my gipsies disappeared with the baggage under the large waterproof. The peasant contented himself with the scanty shelter of the trees; and we were protected by our light waterproof coat. Whilst we conversed with the old man, Noah now and then put his head out from underneath the waterproof, and would say “Blankesko.” The peasant, looking round, could see nothing, and appeared puzzled to understand what blacking shoes had to do with his observations about the donkeys. Sometimes it was “meget godt,” or a “Romany” word, or scrap of a song, with smothered laughter from Esmeralda. We spoke to Noah afterwards, and he promised to be more careful. Some license we permitted among themselves, to exhaust their exuberant spirits.
The rain ceased. The donkeys were loaded. Wishing the peasants adieu, with mutual salutations, we continued our route through the forest. Scotch firs, and light sandy soil; no enclosures—nothing but open forest. Here and there, the trees were scattered thickly near the road. Occasionally we came to an open glade. Zachariah, who had gone on before, fell asleep on a rock on the road-side. As we came near, he suddenly jumped up, and our puru rawnee, taking fright, shied across the road, and fell all fours under her load.
Of course there was a torrent of Romany and English poured by Noah on his brother’s devoted head. The puru rawnee was unloaded, and fortunately unhurt. The place where she fell was soft, with loose sand. Our journey continued, and at about half-past four o’clock we came to some open greensward in the forest. The road made a curve round it. At the farther corner, sloping from the road, about a hundred yards distance, at the foot of a wooded bank, near a small narrow purling stream of clear water, we pitched our tents.
A picturesque mountain, with pointed summit, rose to view above the dense mass of forest trees which intervened between our camp and the Logan. On the other side the stream, a narrow green mossy glade, fringed with thickets, diverged to another bend of the main road through the forest.
Our tents, when pitched, could be seen from the road. Zachariah suffered every kind of misery it was possible to imagine from irritation of the skin, resulting from bites of insects or impurity of blood—perhaps both. His feet were the worst. We made him bathe his feet in warm water and oatmeal, which relieved him very much. At night, when he was warm, the itching was intolerable. Instances of this kind only experienced at night without eruption or rash on the skin’s surface, we had met with before in camp life. Yet it does not seem to be a common occurrence in gipsy life. Potatoes enter largely into their diet in England. Noah’s feet were slightly troubled with this irritation. When an opportunity occurred, we determined to dose them all with brimstone and treacle.
Noah went to look out for a bonde-gaard, and purchased some fladbröd for twelve skillings, and a pound of butter for one mark. Just before tea, a boy in a red cap came to our tents. The boy was a fair, interesting, slim boy, about seventeen. His features were good. There was a serious earnestness about him which we admired. He had a small quantity of brandy to drink, and he left. Then his father and mother came, as we supposed them to be, to the tents, and some other people. They came from the farm-house, where Noah had bought the fladbröd. The father was a bearded, thickset, middle-aged man. There was a look of much intelligence about him. Whilst we were taking our tea and fladbröd and butter, they all sat on the opposite side the stream looking at us. Noah commenced pitching our tents directly after. When Noah had put up our tent, and our things were all arranged in it, they seemed much astonished. After we had shown them the arrangements of our tent they were going away, when we went after them, and said, if they came back, we would give them some music. Noah and Zachariah played several airs. Esmeralda began to remark upon our visitors’ appearance; but we very sharply rebuked her, and, murmuring something about not being able to say a word, she retired submissively into the privacy of the tents. Upon an expedition of this kind it is necessary to maintain discipline.
One of our female visitors had a child slung on her shoulders. When they had left in the still hour of closing evening—so delicious in the forest—we sang two songs to the accompaniment of the guitar, violin, and tambourine.
Our health had wonderfully improved. Continued and incessant reading was now impossible. The mind transplanted, as it were, to new fields of observation, gathered fresh tone and vigour. The physical senses became quickened. The disturbing influences of the busy world were felt no longer. Seated on the turf near our tents we were busily engaged writing our notes. The gipsy girl came noiselessly behind us—so quietly we did not hear her, as she came from the tents in her stockings, treading lightly on the green sward. Silently she gave us a chuma (gip. kiss). It was a kiss for reconciliation. We looked up surprised. A peasant boy, till now unseen, stood looking through the bushes in amazement. He did not appear to comprehend the scene, nor could we give him any explanation. We turned, and were again alone. What could we do? We dismissed it as the chimera of a forest dream. We had forgotten it; yet it is upon our notes, and so it is left.
Several peasants were looking at the donkeys quite late. We alone were up. They afterwards came to our tents, and conversed till we wished each other good night. The musketos continued their attacks during the evening.
The morning was very rainy. About eight o’clock some people came and walked round our tents. We were not up. They walked away without observation. When we got up at half-past eight o’clock, the rain had partly abated. We were not troubled with musketos in our tent during the night. Zachariah was much benefited by the oatmeal and water. A mark’s worth of fladbröd was consumed for breakfast; this, with the addition of butter and tea, completed our meal. Whilst we were at breakfast the farmer’s son came by carrying three calves’ skins on his back, accompanied by some peasant boys. Nearly all the Norwegians carry hunting-knives by their sides. Another boy afterwards passed by our tents with a long pole, used as a “fisk-stang,” or fishing-rod. After breakfast two women tramps, or “highflyers,” as the gipsies called them, passed along the road. One had a child fastened on her back, and was leading another by the hand. They seemed astonished at our tents and donkeys, and sat down looking towards our camp for some time.