The Island of Alden.
Sande is a place of sweet waters to the traveller. After rough roads, bad beds, sparse food, and occasional parasites, what a change! The probability is that a stranger would pass the comfortable-looking house, with its creepers over the porch, its well-stocked garden, English home life, and generally inviting appearance. The geniality and kindly welcome offered by the master of the house are most delightful, and every one who visits it has a strong wish to rest for awhile in such agreeable quarters. The valley is very bold and grand, and good expeditions can be made in all directions. The Paymaster-general, with honest pride, pointed out to us where, on a former visit, he had killed a fine fish, and seemed to realise the fact that, having once experienced that gratification, you can go on killing the same fish, with all its pleasant associations, for the rest of your life. But we soon had to leave this inviting spot for rougher quarters, being bound due north, to be up for August 1st and reindeer; and as time, tide, and August 1st wait for no man, we started for our next station—Nedre Vasenden, on the Jolster Vand.
Nordfjord Peasants.
On arriving there no luxuriant garden growth welcomed us. Instead of a south aspect, it was a north one. The atmosphere was changed, and we missed our beloved Sande. As it was Saturday night, we looked forward to a quiet Sunday, with church, the meeting of the peasants, and a good chance of seeing all the costumes of the district, which is wild, barren, and uncultivated. The Sunday morning was inviting, and we took the opportunity of going to the lake, at a retired spot where the mountain path came down to the water’s edge, for a quiet bathe; but no sooner were we in the water than a troop of peasant girls came slowly down the path. Confusion and dismay! Norwegians do not understand our amphibious tendencies. However, No. 1, with his characteristic retiring disposition, dived, leaving a certain disturbance of the water after his plunge, which attracted attention. Beyond this, only the smallest possible part of two heads might be seen. Now came the anxiety of wondering what the spectators would do. Would they throw stones at us, to make us run, or examine the contents of the chief’s pockets, or try on some of our garments? No; while wishing we had the epidermis of a Captain Webb the whole group suddenly laughed, and moved slowly off, evidently thinking how curious the English were in their habits. We afterwards met at the church porch.
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VERY traveller taking to pony travelling in Norway implicitly believes that there is no danger of the animal ever falling; and it is a happy and comfortable faith. The blakken are rare good animals, cream-coloured, with dark points; hog manes like hat-brushes, with white down the centre, the black being outside; and their hind legs rather zebra marked. From the first they are petted, and their intelligence and stolid kindliness requite the care of the owners. They trot well; and how they can go down a hill! As they crouch and run close to the ground they need never be handed: no “’ands” required, as the British groom would describe it. Still, exception proves the rule, and we met with an instance in this stolkjær trip.
We were going over the crest of a grand mountain road, below us a large lake, and beyond a glorious range of mountains. The deep tone of the fir forest added solemnity to the scene, and our good health and enjoyment of such company made it a happy moment. The Paymaster-general was leading—driving fast, as was his wont; for his driving was like the driving of Jehu. The Tentmaster-general was next, with a huge Norwegian sitting by his side. In a second came the transformation scene—nothing visible to the Patriarchal eye but the soles of the boots of the two persons in the stolkjær, the expanse of the huge Norwegian foot forming a contrast to the small neat extremity of the Tentmaster, who was shot out with great velocity, and stunned by his unavoidable concussion with the earth. We laid him in the heather by the side of the road, anxious for his recovery. Happily he soon came round, but was much shaken; it was, therefore, necessary to proceed very gently to avoid further shaking, and we purposed halting for a day or two, until we could get the advice of a doctor. It assumes the form of real travel when doctors are two days distant or more, and you carry your own lint and medicine. Thankful were we to see the return of the old smile on the Tentmaster’s face, and to hear from his own lips the welcome bulletin, “I am better.” The pony was not hurt, while the big Norwegian had a skaal of whiskey, and, we fancied, was ready to be thrown out again to obtain a second remedy. Soon afterwards we arrived at Jolster Vand by Nedre Vasenden.