That the Prœsten was in harmony with so much that was pleasing, we did not doubt, and when he came to meet us accompanied by our guide, he warmly welcomed our gipsy party; he would have us enter beneath his roof, and accept his kindly hospitality; we did not value the proffered hospitality the less, though we did not accept it. Ours was a life of travel in the fresh air of heaven; air that myriads are dying for every day. It is as essential to man as water is to fish. The delightful shade of some trees near the road, a short distance from the parsonage, tempted us; there we halted, and there, reluctantly, the Prœsten allowed us to remain. After strolling with him for a short time along the pleasant walks of his grounds, he left us to take our mid-day meal; we enjoyed it in our own gipsy fashion; our meal consisted of fried bacon, fladbröd and tea. Ole obtained our letters and newspapers from the Loms Postaabneri. We had telegraphed our correspondence from Kongsberg; the packet was large, and cost us three dollars and forty-four skillings. Our newspapers which had been sent to Bergen, we left to their fate; the “Illustrated London News” seemed to please the Prœsten Halling, and his family. When our mid-day meal was concluded, Prœsten Halling, Mrs. Halling, three young ladies, her sisters, a brother, and two gentlemen staying with Mr. Halling, came to see us; They were much interested with our gipsies; Zachariah’s swollen face had unfortunately marred his beauty, Noah had unfortunately taken some offence at his sister Esmeralda. Noah’s temper was to blame; occasionally an interchange of Romany and English terms flashed between them.
We had wished our gipsies to appear to the best advantage. One with a swollen eye and two at cross purposes had a jarring effect on our nervous system, nevertheless, our visitors seemed interested with them. We trust they made allowance for the wildness of their nature. We can assure them, Zachariah had not always a swollen eye, and Noah was rarely out of temper; even our hobbenengree had her moments of sudden sunshine, delightful after previous storms, and the fitful passions of her gipsy soul. All was harmony after we had commenced our music—guitar, violin, and tambourine. We sang for our visitors the gipsy song, and gave the Prœsten Halling a copy of it, as a parting souvenir; the ladies, and some of the gentlemen, sang several Norwegian melodies for us. They had good voices; “over the high fjeld” was a beautiful song, and seemed appropriate to our parting. Some charming Norwegian songs are written by Björnsen. Very pleasantly passed our mid-day halt, with the Prœsten Halling and his family. Wide spread, we afterwards found, was the fame of the Prœsten Halling[88] for his kindly heart, his true christian feeling, and invariable hospitality to travellers. Speaking English perfectly, we were told he had officially, much and active ministration, among the English navvies employed, during the construction of the Railway from Christiania.
Our donkeys were again loaded. The Puru Rawnee had a chafed back, but by careful folding of our tent-cover, we prevented pressure upon it; sore backs are always difficult to prevent in crossing a mountainous country. We had reached Lom about twelve o’clock, and left about four. Our gipsies were ready; we bade all farewell, perhaps never to meet again, but not the less to be held in our pleasing remembrance.
The evening was very warm; indeed, as we slowly followed the road up the “Bœverdal Elv,” we found it exceedingly hot. It is about nine miles distance from Lom to Rödsheim; comfortable homesteads met our view as we passed along. The usual excitement to see our donkeys was here and there met with. It is said there are four hundred farms in the parish of Lom, and every tenth man had lately emigrated, but no inconvenience had been felt by the diminution of population.
Not far along the road, we met a young Norwegian student en route towards Lom. Ole conversed with him. He was dressed in light tourist costume, and high lace-up boots, and had attempted alone the ascent of the Galdhöpiggen. The student had failed, and was returning with all the weight of disappointed ambition upon his mind. Ole had predicted the failure. Well we remembered our similar fate in former years, when we ourselves, and several fellow-tourists, headed by the celebrated mountaineer, poor Hudson, returned from an attempted ascent of Mont Blanc. Tired, wayworn, torn, and jaded, and, worse, disappointed, we reached the picturesque Hotel Mont Joli at Saint Gervais only to try again with better success.
Ole, anxious to reach Rödsheim as soon as possible, went on in advance. We saw him again, when he had reached his father’s farm near the road side. Ole and his father were just going to start for Rödsheim in a stolkjœrre. His services were unnecessary as guide to Rödsheim. It was useless for Ole to remain with us. They wished us much to go with them in the stolkjœrre, and leave our gipsies and donkeys to follow after.
Ole’s father was a fine, hale, strong old man, and his wife a comely stout woman. We preferred to remain with our gipsies and baggage, feeling a sort of independence of all kinds of lifts. Possessing good health and spirits, we felt no fatigue from our daily exertion. Exposure to the fresh air seemed to give us an enduring strength quite beyond the requirement of stimulant or the necessity for artificial locomotion.
It was now determined to push on after Ole Rödsheim as rapidly as we could. Zachariah was mounted on the top of the baggage on the Pure Rye. Noah took the lead on foot in care of the Puru Rawnee and Puro Rye. Esmeralda, who, was tired, we mounted on the baggage of her Merle, the Tarno Rye, and brought up the rear. The road was tolerably level and we proceeded along at a sharp pace. Every turn of the valley brought us in view of fresh scenes to admire.
Passing a wicket on the road side, we caught sight of two young artists in the garden of a small cottage. Their canvas was upon an easel. One was then painting a scene from nature. They were apparently taking a bend of the valley down which the glacier-coloured waters of Bœver Elv[89] dashed its wild course. The maisonette was so homely, the point of View so picturesque, we could not help pausing. Quickly calling a halt we exchanged salutations with them. They were both very good looking young fellows. The one, we were informed afterwards, was considered the handsomest man in Norway. He was certainly exceedingly handsome, though a trifle too effeminate for a man; yet there was much to admire in the form and expression of the countenance. They accepted an offer of some aquavit to drink “gamle norge.” Our flask was brought into requisition. Somehow the brandy seemed rather muddy, both in flask and bottle newly opened. Noah accounted for it by saying that when the old man at Veblungsnœs sold it to him, the brandy was nearly out of the cask, which had to be lifted up, before he could fill the bottles. A passing suspicion crossed our mind that it may have been caused by the addition of water, but still we did not like to suspect any one of our party. Be that as it may, the artists both quaffed off a small tumbler each without even winking their eyes. With a hasty farewell, we continued our road, pushing on at a rapid pace.
As evening fell, and we gradually lost the heat of the sun, there was a refreshing coolness in Bœverdalen. On our right the lofty heights of the Lomseggen Fjeld, extending from Lom, rose above us; on our left the Bœver Elv was ever near the road,—at times wide, broad, and broken into many rough and shallow rapids. Our party was not out of place in such picturesque scenes. The two leading merles, loaded with various baggage, tent raniers, and camp appliances, including Zachariah, the Mephistopheles of our party, mounted on one, were followed by the tall, lank, muscular form of Noah. He combined the appearance of the smuggler, brigand, the chamois hunter, and gipsy. Noah was the beau ideal of the “genus homo,” as we see them depicted according to the conventional rules of art. At a short distance behind, as a sort of rear guard, Esmeralda was mounted on the miscellaneous baggage of the Tarno Rye, with ourselves near. How lively and happy the hobbenengree seemed! Bronzed by exposure to the hot Norwegian suns, hardened by rough spare diet and continued travel through all weathers, ours was indeed a life of health, freedom, and pleasure.