What a picture study! wild valley, night-fall, two excited gipsies, ourself arbitrator, trout lying near on the turf, hanging rock, camp fire, gipsy girl standing by the tents, roar of river, dark gloom of precipices above our camp. Can we forget the scene? About ten o’clock several peasant girls arrived to lend more romance to the evening incidents. One or two old men in red caps also arrived. The night was beautiful; we sat down on the turf outside our tents, Zachariah boshamengro (gip., violin-player), myself with castanets, and Esmeralda with her tambourine. Bowing to the peasants, we said in our best Norwegian, “Ver so artig tage en stole” (be so good as to take a seat), pointing to the turf, upon which they sat down. After some music an intelligent-looking young Norwegian played some Norwegian tunes on an accordion he had brought. It was not in very good tone, but we were glad to hear the Norwegian airs he played. Then we suggested a dance.
“Ah!” said Esmeralda, “look at that Rackly a salin at Noah.”
Noah at once got up, and whilst a young peasant was apparently trying to prevail upon her to dance, Noah seized her round the waist; the ice was broken, and they whirled round in a polka on the turf. Then the young peasant took her for a partner; she was a nice-looking girl, but wanted rather more agility of step. The Norwegian girls, as a rule, want the elasticity of the southern belles. Norwegian girls have, however, a quiet and kindly expression of all that is good and sweet in disposition, and true-hearted feeling. What a contrast between them and the dark-eyed olive-complexioned girl of the south. Equally in contrast the warm-blooded animation of the southern girl, when roused by the excitement of some strong and sudden emotion.
Only one Norwegian peasant girl joined in the evening green-sward waltz. The accordion-player had his dance with the Rankny[60] Rackly (gip., pretty girl), as the gipsies called her. We played two more tunes for them, and when we had finished we wished them good night, and they left. The carriers then departed on their journey, and as we were going to bed some more came up and halted for the night by the leaning stone. The newly-arrived immediately went to the donkeys, and got some grass for them. One man brought me something to drink, but we declined it with thanks. To one we gave some tobacco for his pipe, and, retiring to our tents, we were soon all asleep.
Another Sunday. We lay unusually late—nine o’clock. The morning was not inviting, but very dull and cloudy. The rain fell fast, and we could hear the roar of many waterfalls down the precipitous sides of the lofty mountains above us. The sound of the river and the roar of waterfalls in a wild valley were conducive to sleep. The gipsies soon had a fire under the shelter of the leaning rock. The carriers were gone. Our frokost consisted of tea, fried trout, bread, and potted tongue. After breakfast Noah and Zachariah rode the donkeys, in search of bread and butter. We stayed in our tent writing. Some peasants came, from time to time, to look at our camp and donkeys.
As we were writing before dinner, we observed several carrioles coming along the road en route towards Ormein. The carriole is a light easy carriage, admirably suited for a hilly land, and well adapted to the small sure-footed ponies of the country. The only objection we are disposed to make is the necessity of travelling along the road alone; if with friends, you post from one station to another, at some distance apart, without being able to hold much converse or communication. In this instance the carrioles followed, one after the other, at some short distance. As they passed our tents and the hanging stone, two of the travellers, in knickerbockers and Scotch caps, appeared to be Englishmen. The driver of one of the carrioles was dressed in black, and appeared to be a Norwegian. The animal he drove was rather larger than a pony, and apparently timid and shy. Suddenly the horse swerved, and the driver checked him rather sharply. In a moment both shafts broke through with a crash. The traveller got out; the horse remained still. We went down to the broken carriole, and said it was unfortunate. The traveller said something quietly in Norsk. Returning to the tents, Esmeralda gave me some rope. In the meantime two or three of the other voyageurs came back from their carrioles, including one of the Englishmen in knickerbockers. Three of the party seemed Norwegians. Very few words were said—they were men of action. In less time than it has taken us to write this, the broken carriole was fastened with the rope they brought with them to a stolkjœrre. The other travellers went forward, and getting into their carrioles, they were all soon out of sight. Noah and Zachariah met them as they returned, in pouring rain, from a farm, where they had purchased butter and excellent fladbröd. The people were very kind, and gave them some milk, and the donkeys grass. They were both very wet; but had no change. At two o’clock, a second tin of Australian meat was opened. We had tea, Australian preserved meat, potatoes, and fladbröd. The Australian meat was excellent, and a very good dinner we all made. From our tents we could see very plainly all who travelled along the road. During the afternoon a close carriage drawn by three horses abreast pulled up, and a lady and children inside seemed much interested. A gentleman outside said to them, the tent is waterproof. They all stayed for a short time, looking from the road at the fragile abri which sheltered us from the elements. Several peasants arrived, and immediately went to see the donkeys. We gave two of the peasants some tobacco, and one brought us a steel pen which we had dropped on the turf near our camp. They wanted us to “spille” a little; but it was Sunday, and we made it a day of rest. It rained heavily during the afternoon. Thick mist clung to the summits of the steep and lofty mountains. Noah, Esmeralda, and Zachariah all fell asleep till seven or eight o’clock.
A Sunday on the banks of the Rauma.—With how much pleasure we welcomed a day ordained for the world’s especial rest. To our party it was welcome after the wanderings of each preceding week. This Sunday was also Esmeralda’s birthday, and we had wished her happiness.[61] One could not help feeling regret as we reflected upon the condition of these light-hearted wanderers. Esmeralda knew one prayer. We hoped on our return to England to have her confirmed. With all their waywardness, wilfulness, impulsiveness, irrepressible energy, and at times apathetic listlessness, careless alike of to-day or to-morrow, there were still some redeeming points of character, gleams of sunshine, which gave uncertain glamour to their mystic fate.
We talked to some of the peasant visitors as well as we could. They sat at our tent entrance. One young peasant came in with his pipe, and began to smoke and spit in all directions. When he understood that no smoking was allowed inside, he seemed annoyed at his own forgetfulness, and took his seat again at the tent entrance.
There is a high principle of character about the Norwegian people, which won our respect and esteem. It was not on one occasion, but many occasions, that we had instances of their strict probity. Many are poor; but they are honest. That conscious feeling of good intention, produces the manly bearing, and national independence of spirit, with which the Norwegian people are so largely imbued.
Many of the peasants wished particularly to know what the donkeys cost, and were often loud in their exclamation, “peen giœre,” “peen giœre,” as they walked round them.