Ewn law law, cymm’rwn lili,
A’u blodau’n rhanau i ni,
A bysedd rhwymwn bosi,
Ffel yw hyn nid ffol wyt ti,
Rhoet yn glòs, fel ar rosyn,
Gwlwm da ar galon dyn.
Let’s hand in hand pursue our way,
And pluck the lily as we stray,
Its flowers pretty we will take,--
Our fingers can a posy make.
This, and with a fragrant rose,
Place on man’s heart, whence goodness flows.
_Welsh Pennillion_, by LEATHART.
NIGHT ALARM--THE PURU RAWNEE--DONKEYS ADMIRED--NORWEGIAN
PONIES--OUR GIPSY LIFE--NORWEGIAN FLOWERS--WILD FOREST--THE PIPE
OF TOBACCO--PICTURES OF IMAGINATION--THE CRIPPLED MAN--CAMP NEAR
HOLMEN--NOAH’S SELF-DENIAL--WET NIGHT--PEASANT GIRLS’
SERENADE--ZACHARIAH’S GAIETY--LOVELY NATURE--NORWEGIAN
NEWSPAPER--THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED--FROKOST SPOILT.
Our tents were pitched with a balk towards the embankment, made with our
blue rug embellished with foxes’ heads. The rug was stretched along our
Alpine stocks driven in the ground. At the top of the embankment, some
of the people still remained watching. Our large _siphonia_ waterproof
was stretched, and fastened over the intervening space between the
tents. Only an opening was left close to the edge of the steep and
almost perpendicular declivity.
The sound of the river was music to us, as it foamed in the stillness of
the night. We retired within the parascenium or partition of our tent,
and were soon asleep. Soundly we slept, lulled by the roar of the falls
of the Honnefos; we did not even hear the noise of a small stone
afterwards thrown against the tent from above, or the rush of Noah and
Zachariah outside with nothing on but their shirts, nor their shouts to
the people above, who only laughed, and had no doubt done it merely to
take a last fond look of our tall gipsy, Noah. They must have been
profoundly impressed by their very picturesque attire.
We awoke at 12.20; it was rather too early for our start, so we turned,
missed the time, and awoke at half-past five instead of four o’clock.
The word was given. All were soon stirring. It had rained heavily in the
night. Tents were struck, donkeys packed; at a quarter past seven
o’clock we were _en route_. Esmeralda was as lively as possible. We were
all in excellent spirits, our donkeys stepping out bravely with their
loads. Our beautiful Puru Rawnee leads the way, the hawk bells jingling
on its light collar of scarlet bocking. At every place we passed, we had
a rush of the country peasants to see us. It was amusing to observe
their eagerness to be in time, as they left their occupations in hot
haste to gaze upon our donkeys. At some places we had been expected.
Some mysterious intimation had been given, and the peasants were ready
drawn up waiting with great expectations our approach. As we journeyed
onwards, it was desirable to buy bread to save our stock of biscuits.
Noah tried at one or two houses. The first was a large house where they
were evidently waiting our arrival. The windows were embellished by
many heads: the female sex predominated; most of the males appeared in a
courtyard opening to the road. “Try here,” we said to Noah, giving him
some money to take in his hand, “and say, ‘smör og bröd.’” He was not
successful, for he was shown into a large room, with coffee, bread, &c.,
on the table. Probably he could not make any one understand, or they had
no bread to sell, for he returned empty-handed. One man we noticed soon
afterwards running in the distance across the fields. It was amusing to
see the wild struggles he made to be in time. With much sympathy for his
unwonted efforts to accomplish so much speed, we had regulated the pace
of our donkeys to give him a chance.
At last we came to a quiet part of the road between two fir woods, with
a narrow space of green sward on each side; a rippling stream crossed
the road in its course to the River Logan. The sun gleamed pleasantly
forth. Our fire was soon lighted, and our meal consisted of biscuit,
Australian preserved meat, and tea. The Australian meat was much
appreciated as an edible: we were all agreeably surprised to find it so
good. In a country like Norway, it is indispensable to those who seek
the freedom of camp-life. As we concluded our meal down came the rain,
but we were prepared, and all our things were immediately under our
large waterproof. Then we sheltered ourselves with the waterproof rugs,
and quietly waited for the heavy shower to cease. Several carrioles were
driven by, and some carts passed. Noah had to lead one pony who shied at
our donkeys; another pony had to be taken out and coaxed by them. The
Norwegian ponies, who are the most docile animals in the world, were
often suspicious of our harmless donkeys, who, quietly browsing, looked
as unlike dangerous ferocity as could possibly be imagined. The rain
ceased. It was eleven. Esmeralda and ourselves pushed on along the road
with two donkeys already loaded, whilst Noah and Zachariah were putting
the remaining baggage on the third. When they came in sight shortly
afterwards, Esmeralda said we must pretend to be strange gipsies, and
ask them where they were _gelling_ to.
“Shawshon baugh?” (how do you do), said Esmeralda, drawing herself up
with an assumed look of contempt, as her brothers came up with their
donkey and baggage.
“Shawshon baugh?” said they; “where be you a _gelling_ (going) to? I
suppose you Romany’s have been married some time.”
“Howah,” (yes) said Esmeralda, “we’ve been married about a year.”
We must confess to a queer sensation that by some gipsy incantation we
were no longer free.
“Which is your merle?” (gip., donkey), demanded Noah, stalking up to the
front.
“That’s mandys” (mine), said Esmeralda, pointing to the Puru Rawnee,
which she claimed for her own. Gipsy wives have evidently separate
rights of property, thought we, which we were not before aware of. “The
other is my husband’s,” said Esmeralda, looking at us with her dark
eyes, which made us feel as if we were merged into another
individuality.
“Will you gipsies chaffer with us?” said Noah and Zachariah.
But we remarked, “Your merle’s got no tail.” This was said in
disparagement of the one supposed to be theirs, for our donkeys were by
no means wanting in this respect. The tail of one was perhaps rather
smaller than the other’s.
“Why,” said Esmeralda, “that’s your donkey. You don’t know one merle
from another.”
They had got mixed, and we had mistaken the one just come up. The
serious earnestness of the gipsy girl gave us a hearty laugh. So they
went on rockering (talking) in their Romany mous (gipsy language). As we
journeyed onwards, how fragrant the wild flowers. Those wild flowers of
Norway can never be forgotten. Gipsies like flowers, it is part of their
nature. Esmeralda would pluck them, and, forming a charming bouquet
interspersed with beautiful wild roses, her first thought was to pin
them in the button-hole of the Romany Rye (gipsy gentleman). We were not
the only party with tents and baggage; for we had noticed, as we passed
along the road from Lillehammer, a number of white military tents
pitched in the valley below us, on a pleasant flat of turf land on the
opposite side the River Logan. We were informed afterwards, it was an
encampment of the Norwegian militia for military training.
Shortly afterwards we passed a large house near the roadside, which
appeared to be a gjœstgiver gaard. The people came out to look at us.
Noticing some articles for sale in the window, we sent Noah back with
some money, and he soon after returned with ten loaves of bread, and a
pound and a half of butter, for which he paid four marks and a half.
Noah said he bought all the bread they had. We were so well pleased with
the acquisition, that, finding it was a general shop, Zachariah was sent
back to replace his dilapidated hat with a new wide-a-wake, which cost
us one dollar. When we examined the hat on his return, we read within it
the well-known English name of Christy. Noah and Zachariah had each
invested in a handkerchief; Noah’s consisted of four pictures of the
loudest pattern. Noah’s commercial transactions had also extended to a
pipe and tobacco, and he appeared smoking it to the disgust of the rest
of the party. Indications of coming rain caused us to arrange the
waterproofs over our baggage. Several people came up to look at our
donkeys.
The bread being packed safely away, we again pushed on, and entered a
wild, thick forest at the foot of some steep rocky hills. The River
Logan was not far to our left. Taking the first opportunity, we now told
Noah that it was contrary to the rules of our camp to smoke, and that he
must at once give up his pipe and tobacco.
“No, no, sir,” said Noah, in a melancholy tone, “I must have some
tobacco.”
“Well, Noah,” we replied, “we must have our wish, we have always done
what we could for you, and we expect some sacrifice in return.”
Esmeralda and Zachariah joined in the request.
A slight cloud passed over Noah’s look as he dropped behind. We must,
however, do him the justice to say that his temper was excellent. Noah
was ever cheerful under the greatest difficulties.
As we quietly journeyed through the forest, how delightful its scenes.
Free from all care, we enjoy the anticipation of a long and pleasant
ramble in Norway’s happy land. We felt contented with all things, and
thankful that we should be so permitted to roam, with our tents and wild
children of nature in keeping with the solitudes we sought. So we
travelled onwards towards Holmen. The rain had soon ceased. Tinkle,
tinkle went the hawk-bells on the collar of our Puru Rawnee, as she led
the way along the romantic Norwegian road.
“Give the snakes and toads a twist,
And banish them for ever,”
sang Zachariah, ever and anon giving similar wild snatches. Then
Esmeralda would rocker about being the wife of the Romany Rye, and as
she proudly paced along in her heavy boots, she pictured, in painful
imagery, the pleasant life we should lead as her Romany mouche. She was
full of fun: yet there was nothing in her fanciful delineations which
could offend us. They were but the foam of the crested wave, soon
dissipated in air. They were the evanescent creations of a lively,
open-hearted girl. Wild notes trilled by the bird of the forest. We came
again into the open valley. Down a meadow gushed a small streamlet,
which splashed from a wooden spout on to the road-side below. From a log
cottage in the meadow above, a man quickly crawled down the steep bank,
like a spider along in his web. He took his station on the bank near the
streamlet’s falling water. The man was pale and wan, and begged for
alms. He seemed to have no use in his legs. Could we refuse? We who
roamed free as the birds of the air. We gave him some skillings. The man
seemed very thankful, and we soon after saw him crawling slowly up to
his small wooden cottage, from whence he commanded a view of the road.
Now we came near the river-side, and pushed along to find a camping
ground. We had again forest on either side. The river was near, and on
the hills of the narrow valley we could see many farms. At last we
decided to camp on a rise of ground above the road: an open woodland, on
the edge of the thick forest, which covered the hill above. The road
wall was broken down in one place, giving passage for the donkeys, after
we had unloaded them. Our things were hoisted up, and soon carried to a
pleasant slope, partly secluded with scattered brushwood and trees,
having a view of the road, river, and lofty hills on the opposite side
of the valley. The rain commenced as we were pitching our tents. The
first losses we discovered were our two caps and guard, with a carved
fish at the end of it, and the green veil in which they were wrapped. It
was provoking. They must have been left on the roadside when we halted
near the house where we bought the ten loaves of bread; probably near
Gillebo or Skardsmoen. They were of black felt, and we were now left
with only the straw hat we then wore.
Our tents had not been long pitched, and our fire made, when a tall,
pale man came to us from the road. He carried a wallet; had a
walking-stick in his hand, and we understood him to say he was going to
Romsdalen. He seemed much interested with our tents, and accepted some
brandy and tobacco. The spot where our tents were pitched was near a
sort of small natural terrace, at the summit of a steep slope above the
road, backed by a mossy bank, shaded by brushwood, and skirting the
dense foliage of the dark forest of pine and fir rising above our camp.
We had tea and bread, and our Australian meat, which was excellent. The
clouds gathered darkly over the mountains, and there were some heavy
showers. More visitors came in succession; some had brandy. Their
attention seemed divided between the tents and donkeys. At length the
rain probably prevented more from coming.
In the course of the afternoon, when we got into camp, Noah came and
said, “I think, sir, instead of buying tobacco, I had much better have
put the money by to get me a pair of stockings.” We asked how much he
gave, and he said half a mark. “Then, Noah, give up the pipe and
tobacco, and you shall have the half-mark.” Our gipsy came soon after.
He had evidently made up his mind.
“Mr. Smith, you don’t like my smoking, sir; here’s the tobacco and pipe.
I don’t wish you to say I didn’t do what you required.”
As Noah handed over the pipe and tobacco, one would have thought he had
given up some dearly-prized treasure. Although we gave him the half-mark
with pleasure, we could not help feeling some compunction; still, as
“shorengro” (gipsy chief) of the party, we were bound to see the camp
rules obeyed, and Noah knew them before he started. Pusillanimity and
want of firmness would have destroyed the success of the expedition.
After tea we sat up to write our notes. The occurrences and events of
each day must be written whilst they are fresh in the memory. Nor must
they be left to remembrance, or the clear lettering of correctness and
truth will be lost. What are now given are mere transcripts of notes
written on the spot, and at the time. Whatever be their worth, rough as
they are, it is hoped their truth will give them some value. We were
glad to retire to rest. It rained heavily in the night. Once or twice
the light Siphonia waterproof was blown off. Noah had to get up in the
night to put it on, and to dig a trench round the tents. We could feel
the moisture coming in from the bank above. It was with difficulty we
kept our provisions dry.
Our first Sunday morning in camp. It was one of our camp rules never to
travel on a Sunday. It was made a day of rest for ourselves and the
animals. We looked forward throughout our travels to our Sunday for
quietude and repose. The morning was dull and wet. We breakfasted about
seven o’clock. The frokost (Nor., breakfast) consisted of fried bacon,
bread, and tea. The materials for a soup for dinner were put ready.
Whilst it was cooking, a German gentleman, accompanied by his skydskarl,
came up from the road. He inquired if we were German. Then he informed
us that there was an account of us in the newspapers. Having looked at
our tents, we sent Zachariah with him to see the donkeys. The German
gentleman seemed much gratified, and, shaking hands with Zachariah, left
our camp. Many carriages passed along the road during the day. After our
dinner of soup, made of ham, peas, flour, and Liebig’s essence of meat,
we remained in our tents. Some young peasant men and women came and sat
in the rain outside looking at us. We gave two of the peasants some
brandy and tobacco. Then all our visitors left, except four interesting
young peasant girls, who still lingered. One had an umbrella, and all
four standing in the rain at a short distance from our camp, sang for us
a Norwegian song to a pretty Norwegian air. They had pleasant voices. We
listened to them with much pleasure. There was so much sweetness and
feeling in the melody. It was a serenade of four Norwegian peasant
girls. We appreciated their kind attention to wanderers from a far
land. Though we could not converse, we thanked them with our looks when
they afterwards left the camp.
[Illustration: PEASANT GIRLS’ SERENADE.]
We had many visitors. At one time a group of five young peasant girls
came and stood before our tents. Noah was too shy to go out and rocker
Norwegian. Zachariah made up for his brother’s timidity. Full of fun,
what dreadful faces the young gipsy would pull. They were absolutely
frightful. Then he would twist and turn his body into all sorts of
serpentine contortions. If spoken to, he would suddenly, with a hop,
skip, and a jump, light in his tent, as if he had tumbled from the sky,
and sitting bolt upright, making a hideous face, till his mouth nearly
stretched from ear to ear, while his dark eyes sparkled with wild
excitement, he would sing:--
“Dawdy! Dawdy! dit a kei,
Rockerony fake your bosh.”
At one time a woman brought an exceedingly fat child for us to look at,
and she wanted Esmeralda to suckle it, which was of course hastily
declined. We began to ask ourselves, if this was forest seclusion.
Still, our visitors were kind, good-humoured people, and some drank our
brandy, and some smoked our English tobacco. Had they not partaken of
our salt? We, as Arabs of tent-life, gave them our friendly welcome.
After our tea, at five o’clock we had a pleasant stroll. Once more we
were with Nature. There we lingered, till the scenes round us, in their
varied beauty, seemed graven deep in our thoughts. How graphic are the
lines of Moore:--
“The turf shall be my fragrant shrine,
My temple, Lord! that arch of thine
My censer’s breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
“My choir shall be the moonlight waves,
then murm’ring homeward to their caves,
Or when the stillness of the sea,
Even more of music breathes of thee.”
How appropriate, were the words of the great poet to our feelings.
Returning between eight and nine o’clock, we found Esmeralda standing by
the tents. We went in and sat down. Another party of visitors
approached. Now and then they halted, as they looked towards our tents,
and would then refer to a paper. They stood occasionally for a few
moments in earnest discussion. We were much puzzled to make out what
they were doing, as we sat in our tent looking at them. One of the
party, a tall, fine-looking man in plaid trousers, large beard, and cap,
advanced. As we bowed, he handed us a Norwegian newspaper, and pointed
to a paragraph, which we soon found related to ourselves. They all took
some brandy; and when we offered to buy the newspaper, they most kindly
presented it to us. Then Zacharia took them to see the donkeys. When
they returned, we made them understand, that they were at the camp of
the Englishman, referred to in the paragraph. They inspected the tents
and pinthorns. They felt the blanket coverings, and also the waterproof
Siphonian cover. Examined our camp kettle; and we explained to them the
mysteries of our Russian lamp. There was much discussion among them
about our tents. They stood by them for a quarter of an hour. Perhaps
the description in the paragraph was not quite understood. The paragraph
ran thus, and underneath we give an English translation:--
EXTRACT FROM THE DAGBLADET, NO. 142, 23rd JUNE, 1870. CHRISTIANIA.
“EN ORIGINAL ENGELSKMAND.
“Blandt den Mængde af fremmede Turister skrwer Mgbl., der i disse Dage
opholder seg hei i Byen for herfra at tiltræde Reisen om i Landet, er
ogsaa en Engelskmand Mr. Smith, der er saa lykkeligat have opdaget en ny
Specialitet inden Turistlwets Enemœrker. Han reiser nemlig ikke hrerkeu
i Kariol, eller Kano, meu tilfods og forer alligevel med sig Mad,
Drikke, Klœder, Sko, Hus, Hjem og alle andre Livets Velsignelser lige
indtil gode Naboer. Han ledsages kort at fortœlle af 3 Æfler, paa lwis
Ryg der lœsses allehaande Livsforn oden heder iberegnet Telte, som
slaaes op, hvor og naar han onsker at raste, for atter at tuges ned
igjen, naar han drager videre, og som under hans Reise helt oz holdent
maa ers tatte ham almmdeligt Husly. Det er saaledes et fuldstændig
gjennemfort Romadelir, der udgjor Mr. Smith’s Specialitet; men for at
gjore dette rigtig Komfort abelt har han taget med som sin Betjening paa
Reisen et Selskab af veritable Romader, nemlig tre Tatere (gypsies) to
Brodre og en Soster. Det skal vere Mr. Smith’s tanke at anvende 3--4
Maaneder paa et gjennemstreife vore Hoifjeldsegne, og rimeligvis vil
mangeu af vore Turister da faa Leileghed til at se deu lille Karavane,
der udgjor hans Reisetrœn.”
TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING.
“AN ORIGINAL ENGLISHMAN.
“Among the numerous foreign tourists, says the Morgen bladett (Morning
Paper), there is at present staying at Byen, with an intention of
proceeding inland, an English gentleman, Mr. Smith, who has made a new
invention for the use of tourists. He neither travels by carriage or
boat, but on foot, and nevertheless carries with him food, drink,
clothes, shoes, and every other necessary of life in a small compass. It
consists of a folding contrivance on three donkeys, in which the
articles are packed, and is carried on the back, forming when spread out
a tent, whenever he wishes to halt, and the tent can be struck at
pleasure. The invention is of a completely nomadic character, and to
render the expedition still more consistent, he is accompanied during
the journey, by a party of real nomads, viz.:--three Tartars (gipsies),
two brothers, and a sister as servants. Mr. Smith designs to spend three
or four months in our upper plateaux, in which he is far more reasonable
than many of our tourists, few of whom do more than join some small
party in the ordinary way.”
Our friend in the plaid trousers, who seemed a shrewd, intelligent man,
did his best to solve all difficulties. We could not feel otherwise than
pleased at the interest they took in our expedition. The voice of the
tall man in plaid trousers generally dominated the conversation. At
length, after a comparison between the respective merits of donkeys and
mules, with many salutations, they left our camp. They had scarcely
gone, when two or three good-looking peasant girls came, accompanied by
some young men, and one rather good-looking woman, who asked a variety
of questions in rapid succession. It is to be feared our answers were
exceedingly indefinite, but she seemed to explain everything to
everybody, and we began to look upon her as part and parcel of our camp.
One lively, good-tempered, nice-looking girl knelt down near us, as we
were seated writing our notes, and kept looking at everything in the
tents, not hidden from view. Sometimes she laughed so merrily, that the
impulse was catching, and we found ourselves joining, in her cheerful
mood. Esmeralda had retired to sleep; the visitors were very anxious to
see her, when informed by signs she was asleep, they contented
themselves with looking at her Alpine slippers, which came in for a long
criticism by the rather good-looking visitor, who explained everything,
to everybody, until the hour becoming late they all left.
It rained heavily during the night, and it required some management to
keep our things dry.
At 12.38 A.M. we called to Noah to report upon the morning,--“All misty
and wet,” said Noah, as he looked out; and our getting up was postponed
till six o’clock, when all rose for frokost (breakfast). Zachariah made
the “yog” (gip., fire) in the wet damp morning; then when the fire burnt
up, Zachariah, in putting our kettle of soup on the kettle-prop to be
ready for breakfast, contrived to upset nearly the whole. The scene was
melancholy and effective; the reverse of complimentary, were the
observations of the rest of the party. Accidents will happen, so making
the best of our loss, tea was substituted. Zachariah seemed more than
any of the rest, disappointed and grieved, at what had occurred.