The very look of each of them denotes strong talent; while in
whatever they have undertaken to perform, they seem to have
surpassed others, whilst they are at once unabashed and polite.
It is true that they have not been tried in many things; but
they are, it seems, the best fortune-tellers, the best singers,
the best boxers, and, perhaps, the best doctors in the world....
They speak, too, the several languages of each country with much
greater propriety than the lower ranks of natives themselves do.
_The Gipsies._ By SAMUEL ROBERTS.
THE PEASANT’S WOOD--SKEAKER--OUR FAIR VISITOR--ESMERALDA’S
INDIGNATION--THE GIPSY HORNPIPE--THE FATE OF EZEKIEL-- FEEBLE
ADVOCACY--THE RANKNY[86] RACKLY--THE OTTA VAND.
Noah broke his alpenstock. Descending still lower, we saw a waterfall
formed by the stream from the lake. In a large extent of wood, on the
other side, numbers of firs, which had once formed a picturesque
shelter, had been cut down, and were lying on the ground. The owner, a
well-to-do farmer, had yielded to the solicitations of a
timber-merchant, and had cut down much of his wood. The timber-merchant,
after buying and taking some of the best, found it was not worth his
while to remove the remainder of the trees, owing to the roughness of
the stream down which he intended to float them. The timber was
therefore lying as we saw it, probably to be used as firewood.
By a short cut we descended down a very steep bank, with our animals and
baggage, to the level road to Skeaker. The road was an extremely narrow
lane, with a wooden fence on both sides; fields of grain were improved
in luxuriance by irrigation. At one place we saw a peasant throwing
water over his grain with a wooden shovel. The peasants seemed
well-to-do. The farms on each side the road were numerous, but small in
size.
Then we had the usual rush to see the donkeys, and an occasional meeting
in the narrow lane with ponies, who obstinately refused to fraternise
with our cavalcade.
At last, after passing a large well-built wooden house, with a stuffed
owl on the summer-house of its garden, we crossed a bridge over the Otta
Elv.
Our camp was selected on a large open common, under the shelter of a
wooden fence, not very far from the road. Ole went to a farm-house for
provisions, and to say we had camped there. The tents were soon pitched,
a fire lighted, and we had tea and eggs in our tents. The gipsies were
very lively; the day’s exertions had quite cured Esmeralda.
Numbers of peasants came in groups toward the camp. One man, dressed in
black with a slouched hat, was the most solemn-looking individual we
ever saw. The gipsies called him Uncle Elijah; another was styled
Ezekiel. Ole said there were some peasants who did not like music or
dancing.
The numbers increased, and they thronged round with eager curiosity. We
were thankful that Ole was now showman; no doubt, with much ingenuity,
Ole made many difficult explanations. Our guide was quite equal to the
task.
The donkeys were ever surrounded by anxious visitors. One very pretty
girl came up, as we were standing at the tent entrance; speaking English
with a strong American accent, she said, “And where do you live?”
Our answer that we occasionally resided in London, seemed a sufficient
address, for she continued, “Are you married?”
“Oh, no,” said we, with a tone of much melancholy.
Then she told us she had been in America and England; that she liked
England better than Norway. She said she wanted to get married, and
stayed in Norway to be with her mother. Her brother had sold the large
house and farm, on the other side the river, to the government for 6,300
dollars. For some time we conversed together.
After the pretty Norwegian had left, we went to sit in our tent. As we
entered, Esmeralda drew herself up with much dignity. A storm was
coming--indications of the hurricane appeared on the surface of her dark
flashing eyes.
“The Rye had better have his Norwegian Rackly at once! She’ll keep your
tents for you! Didn’t you hear how they rocker’d together, Noah?”
“Well,” said Noah, in secret enjoyment of his sister’s indignation, “the
Rye did say something about marriage, when she axed him.”
“Won’t she see after the Rye’s things?” exclaimed Esmeralda, more and
more indignant.
“Dawdy! dawdy!” said Zachariah, in his blandest accents, as he sat on
the ground and quietly rubbed his hands, swaying to and fro, whilst his
dark eyes sparkled with malicious fire. “Dawdy! dawdy! but the Rye can
tice it on with the girls, can’t you, sir?”
“Tice it on,” answered Esmeralda; “I’m not to be deceived. Noah, let’s
be a gellin.”
There was an expressive tinge of indignant melancholy as Esmeralda said
this. Our position was like the mariner in a heavy sea. After all, we
really had no desire to change our hobbenengree, Esmeralda, who had
travelled with us so many miles, and shared with us so many fatigues.
Why should we change? Why should not Noah ask the pretty Norwegian girl
in marriage? Indeed, we at once undertook to carry out the delicate
mission. The question should be asked when she came. Noah was not
unwilling.
Notwithstanding Esmeralda said, “Dawdy! There’s a scheme of the Rye’s,”
she was evidently more at ease, and in a few minutes we were playing
some of our gipsy and other tunes, nor did we forget the “gipsy
hornpipe,” the favourite air of our gipsies’ ancient grandmother, who
had recently died at some incredible age, after giving to the world
seventeen children.
The number of our visitors increased. Seated in our tents, we played a
variety of airs. Some few danced on the greensward near; many tried to
get a view of us by looking over the baulk between our tents. Ole was
the centre of many a circle, as the peasants grouped round him, asking
him all sorts of questions.
At length the push and pressure was so great our tents were in danger of
being levelled with the ground. In vain Esmeralda became impatient and
remonstrated, still the peasants, anxious to see us, crowded against
the tents and baulk.
Well we remember the tall active form of the gipsy girl, rising suddenly
from the ground. Never shall we forget the amazon of our tents, the wild
spirit of our many wanderings, seizing Noah’s broken alpenstock. We were
reminded of
Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!
Were the last words of Marmion!
as she went forth. There was a sudden withdrawal of pressure from our
tents; there was a tramp of feet, a hurried stampede of short duration.
Whether Uncle Elijah was knocked down, or what became of Ezekiel we
never knew. We did not go out to pick up the wounded. Probably their
bodies, like that of King James II., at the battle of Flodden, were
never discovered. They did not appear the next morning. We mourned them
as amongst the slain. Flushed and heated from the fray, Esmeralda soon
returned. Our music continued till closing eve warned us it was time for
rest. The peasants wished us good-night, and departed.
Yet once more before they all departed we held converse with the very
pretty girl of Skeaker. Esmeralda had the satisfaction of hearing us
propose for Noah. Our visitor did not appear altogether adverse, but we
fear our advocacy was feeble, for nothing ultimately came of it, and we
retired to rest.
We mused lightly upon the novelty and charm of our wild wandering life
as we rose at six o’clock. Ole Rödsheim procured us eggs for breakfast.
Fire was lighted; Zachariah tried the river for fish. In vain we sought
a spot sufficiently private for matutinal ablutions; the river banks
were almost level with the water’s edge; our camp was almost on an
island. We afterwards retired beneath the arch of the second bridge,
where we had all the seclusion of a private boudoir.
As we appeared on the bridge, refreshed and braced up for the day’s
exertion, to our surprise we again met the pretty girl of Skeaker. She
had a young companion with her. Her American accent seemed now to give
us pleasure, and then she spoke English very well. As we exchanged
greetings chance caused us to look towards the river; the tall slim form
of our hobbenengree (gip. housekeeper) was standing by the water’s edge,
looking towards us. Her dark flashing eyes followed every movement.
As we slowly returned to the tents we expected another storm, but
Esmeralda waited till she was gone. “I saw it all,” said Esmeralda,
somewhat reproachfully. “How artfully the Rackly waited till you were on
the bridge; but never mind, you can take her.”
It was difficult to convince her that Noah’s suit required several
interviews and much pressing solicitation.
Our camp ground was delightful; several visitors came to our camp. Noah
was leading the donkeys for our departure. Then we soon perceived our
pretty Norwegian friend who spoke English; she had one or two young
ladies with her.
Whilst Ole Rödsheim gave Noah some assistance, I proposed to give our
visitors a few parting tunes; in fact, they were anxious to hear us play
once more.
Esmeralda looked in no lively mood towards her supposed rival. She
would not play for the gorgios. Taking our guitar, we sat down, and,
accompanied by Zachariah on his violin, we gave them some farewell
music.
All is ready. The morning is beautiful. About ten o’clock the word was
given to start. Ole formed our advance guard, and led the way, staff in
hand, some distance a-head. By some shuffle in the cards of fate,
Esmeralda was in the rear guard as we bowed farewell to our friendly
visitors, and especially to the long-to-be-remembered pretty girl of
Skeaker.
Our party quietly followed the narrow road along the right shore of the
beautiful “Otta Vand.” The road was very narrow, and fenced in.
Comfortable homesteads of the peasant farmers were delightfully placed
between the road and the lake. We remarked their substantial, and
well-to-do appearance. This seemed one of the most fertile districts we
had yet traversed.
Crossing the “Sand Aa” (Nor. sandy rivulet) we gradually approached Lom,
which is about six or seven English miles from Skeaker. Some of the farm
houses built on promontories, stretching from the shores of the lake,
have names terminating in “næs” (Nor. point), as for instance, Studnæs
(rough point), and many others. At a farm called Sundtnæs, we bought
twenty-five eggs for one mark five skillings. Our expenses at Skeaker,
including butter, eighteen eggs, and fladbröd, amounted to three marks.
On our way from Skeaker, Esmeralda soon recovered her wonted spirits,
and said quietly, she hoped we would not think anything of what she had
said; she did not mean it; was it likely we should have anyone else to
look after our things. It is wonderful how soon the heart inclines
itself to forgive; yet in after days now, and by chance, a quiet
allusion to the pretty girl of Skeaker produced its effect on our
suspicious hobbenengree.