"Looking on their silly sheep."

Shepherd life must be a very dismal reality indeed. And yet there is no accounting for tastes. At one point of the road, beyond Folkstuen, where a sluggish lagoon mingles its waters with the barren slopes of the Fjeld, I saw an Englishman standing up to his knees in a dismal marsh fishing for trout.

The weather was cold enough to strike a chill into one's very marrow; yet this indefatigable sportsman had come more than a thousand miles from his native country to enjoy himself in this way. He was a genuine specimen of an English sn.o.b--self-sufficient, conceited, and unsociable; looking neither to the right nor the left, and terribly determined not to commit himself by making acquaintance with casual travelers speaking the English tongue. I stopped my cariole within a few paces and asked him "what luck?" One would think the sound of his native tongue would have been refreshing to him in this dreary wilderness; but, without deigning to raise his head, he merely answered in a gruff tone, "Don't know, sir--don't know!" I certainly did not suspect him of knowing much, but thought that question at least would not be beyond the limits of his intelligence. Finding him insensible to the approaches of humanity, I revenged myself for his rudeness by making a sketch of his person, which I hope will be recognized by his friends in England should he meet with any misfortune in the wilds of Norway. They will at least know where to search for his body, and be enabled to recognize it when they find it.

This man's sense of enjoyment reminded me of the anecdote told by Longfellow in Hyperion, of an Englishman who sat in a tub of cold water every morning while he ate his breakfast and read the newspapers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLAYING HIM OUT.]

I met with many such in the course of my tour. Is it not a little marvelous what hardships people will encounter for pleasure? Here was a man of mature age, in the enjoyment perhaps of a comfortable income, who had left his country, with all its attractions, for a dreary desert in which he was utterly isolated from the world. He was not traveling--not reading, not surrounded by a few congenial friends who could make a brief exile pleasant, but utterly alone; ignorant, no doubt, of the language spoken by the few shepherds in the neighborhood; up to his knees in a pool of cold water; stubbornly striving against the most adverse circ.u.mstances of wind and weather to torture out of the water a few miserable little fish! Of what material can such a man's brain be composed, if he be gifted with brain at all?

Is it mud, clay, or water; or is it all a bog? Possibly he was a lover of nature; but if you examine his portrait you will perceive that there is nothing in his personal appearance to warrant that suspicion.

Even if such were the case, this was not the charming region described by the quaint old Walton, where the scholar can turn aside "toward the high honeysuckle hedge," or "sit and sing while the shower falls upon the teeming earth, viewing the silver streams glide silently toward their centre, the tempestuous sea," beguiled by the harmless lambs till, with a soul possessed with content, he feels "lifted above the earth." Nor was the solitary angler of the Dovre Fjeld a man likely to be lifted from the earth by any thing so fragile as the beauties of nature. His weight--sixteen stone at least--would be much more likely to sink him into it.

As I approached the neighborhood of Djerkin on the Dovre Fjeld, famous as a central station for hunting expeditions, I met several English sportsmen armed with rifles, double-barreled guns, pistols, and other deadly weapons, on their way to the defiles of the adjacent mountains in search of the black bears which are said to infest that region. One of these enthusiastic gentlemen was seated in a cariole, and traveled for some distance in front of me. Taking into view the rotundity of his person, which overhung the little vehicle on every side, I could not but picture to myself the extraordinary spectacle that would be presented to any observant eye in case this ponderous individual should suddenly come in contact with one of those ferocious animals.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENGLISH SPORTSMAN.]

Here you have him, just as he sat before me--a back view, to be sure, but the only one I could get in the emergency of the moment. It will be easy to imagine, from the dexterous grace of his figure, how he will bound over the rocks, climb up the rugged points of the precipices, hang by the roots and branches of trees, dodge the attacks of the enemy, crawl through the brush, and, in the event of an unfavorable turn in the battle, retreat to some position of security.

No man can be blamed for running when he is sure to be worsted in an encounter of this kind. Many a brave Californian has taken to his heels when pursued by a grizzly, and I have scarcely a doubt that I would pursue the same course myself under similar circ.u.mstances. Only it must look a little ludicrous to see a fat Englishman, a representative of the British Lion, forced to adopt this mortifying alternative rather than suffer himself to be torn into beefsteaks. It may be, however, that in this instance our Nimrod has suddenly discovered that it is about dinner-time, and is hurrying back to camp lest the beef should be overdone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEAR CHASE.]

These bear-hunting Englishmen take care to have as many chances on their own side as possible. Hence they usually go into the mountains well provided with guides, ammunition, provisions, etc., and prepare the way by first securing the bear in some favored locality. This is done by killing a calf or hog, and placing the carca.s.s in the required position. A hired attendant lies in wait until he discovers the bear, when he comes down to the station or camp, and notifies the hunter that it is time to start out. Thus the risk of life is greatly reduced, and the prospect of securing some game proportionally augmented. The black bears of Norway are not very dangerous, however, and, hunted in this manner, it requires no great skill to kill them.

They are generally to be found in the higher mountains and defiles, a few miles from some farming settlement. In winter, when their customary food is scarce, they often commit serious depredations upon the stock of the farmers. Every facility is freely afforded by the peasants for their destruction, and every bear killed is considered so many cattle saved.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PEASANT WOMEN AT WORK.]

It was late in the afternoon when I descended a rocky and pine-covered hill, and came in sight of the station called Djerkin, celebrated as one of the best in the interior of Norway. This place is kept by an old Norwegian peasant family of considerable wealth, and is a favorite resort of English sportsmen bound on fishing and hunting excursions throughout the wilds of the Dovre Fjeld. The main buildings and outhouses are numerous and substantial, and stand on the slope of the hill which forms the highest point of the Fjeld on the road from Christiania to Trondhjem. The appearance of this isolated group of buildings on the broad and barren face of the hill had much in it to remind me of some of the old missionary establishments in California; and the resemblance was increased by the scattered herds of cattle browsing upon the parched and barren slopes of the Fjeld, which in this vicinity are as much like the old ranch lands of San Diego County as one region of country wholly different in climate can be like another. A few cultivated patches of ground near the station, upon which the peasants were at work gathering in the scanty harvest, showed that even in this rigorous region the attempts at agriculture were not altogether unsuccessful. As usual, the princ.i.p.al burden of labor seemed to fall upon the women, who were digging, hoeing, and raking with a l.u.s.ty will that would have done credit to the men.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

WOMEN IN NORWAY AND GERMANY.

I must say that of all the customs prevailing in the different parts of Europe, not excepting the most civilized states of Germany, this one of making the women do all the heavy work strikes me as the nearest approximation to the perfection of domestic discipline. The Diggers of California and the Kaffres of Africa understand this thing exactly, and no man of any spirit belonging to those tribes would any more think of performing the drudgery which he imposes upon his wife and daughters than a German or Norwegian. What is the use of having wives and children if they don't relieve us of our heavy work? In that respect we Americans are very much behind the times. We pay such absurd devotion to the weakness of woman that they rule us with a despotism unknown in any other country. Their smiles are threats, and their tears are despotic manifestoes, against which the bravest of us dare not rebel. It is absolutely horrible to think of the condition of servitude in which we are placed by the extraordinary powers vested in, and so relentlessly exercised by, the women of America. I, for one, am in favor of a revival of the old laws of Nuremberg, by which female tyranny was punished. By a decree of the famous Council of Eight, any woman convicted of beating her husband or otherwise maltreating him was forced to wear a dragon's head for the period of three days; and if she did not, at the expiration of that date, ask his pardon, she was compelled to undergo a regimen of bread and water for the s.p.a.ce of three weeks, or until effectually reduced to submission. Something must be done, or we shall be compelled sooner or later to adopt a clause in the Const.i.tution prohibiting from admission the State of Matrimony. What would the ladies do then? I think that would bring them to their senses.

Not only in the matter of domestic discipline, but of business and pleasure, are the people of Europe infinitely ahead of us. In France many of the railway stations are attended by female clerks, and in Germany the beer-saloons are ornamented by pretty girls, who carry around the foaming schoppens, having a spare smile and a joke for every customer. Of opera-singers, dancers, and female fiddlers, the most famous are produced in Europe. The wheeling girls of Hamburg, who roll after the omnibuses in circus fashion, are the only specimens in the line of popular attractions that I have not yet seen in the streets or public resorts of New York.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHEELING GIRLS.]

What would be thought of half a dozen of these street acrobats rolling down Broadway or the Fifth Avenue? Doubtless they would attract considerable attention, and probably turn many a good penny. I fancy the Bowery boys would enjoy this sort of thing. A pretty girl of sixteen or seventeen, with her crinoline securely bundled up between her ankles, wheeling merrily along after an omnibus at the rate of five miles an hour, would be an attractive as well as extraordinary spectacle. For my part, I would greatly prefer it to our best female lectures on phrenology or physiology. I think a girl who can roll in that way must be possessed of uncommon genius. The wheeling boys of London are but clumsy spectacle compared with this. No man of sensibility can witness such a sight without regarding it as the very poetry of motion.

But this digression has led me a little out of the way. I was on the road to Djerkin. A sharp pull of half a mile up the hill brought me to the door of the station, where I was kindly greeted by the family.

Descending from my cariole a little stiff after the last long stage, I entered the general sitting-room, where there was a goodly a.s.semblage of customers smoking and drinking, and otherwise enjoying themselves.

The landlady, however, would not permit me to stop in such rude quarters, but hurried me at once into the fine room of the establishment. While she was preparing a venison steak and some coffee, I took a survey of the room, which was certainly ornamented in a very artistical manner. The sofa was covered with little sc.r.a.ps of white net-work; the bureau was dotted all over with little angels made of gauze, highly-colored pin-cushions, and fanciful paper boxes and card-stands. The walls were decorated with paintings of cows, stags, rocks, waterfalls, and other animals, and gems of Norwegian scenery, the productions of the genius of the family--the oldest son, a Justice of the Peace for the District, now absent on business at Christiania.

They were very tolerably executed. The old lady was so proud of them that she took care to call my attention to their merits immediately upon entering the room, informing me, with much warmth of manner, that her son was a highly respectable man, of wonderful talents, who had held the honorable position of Justice of the Peace for the past ten years, and that there was something in my face that reminded her of her dear boy. In fact, she thought our features bore a striking resemblance--only Hansen had rather a more melancholy expression, his wife having unfortunately died about three years ago (here the poor old lady heaved a profound sigh). But I could judge for myself. There was his portrait, painted by a German artist who spent some months at this place last summer. I looked at the portrait with some curiosity.

It was that of a man about forty years of age, with a black skull-cap on his head, a long queue behind, and a pair of spectacles on his nose--his face very thin and of a cadaverous expression; just such a man as you would expect to find upon a justice's bench of a country district in Norway. Was it possible I bore any resemblance to this learned man? The very idea was so startling, not to say flattering, that I could hardly preserve my composure. I mumbled over something to the effect that it was a good face--for scenic purposes; but every time I tried to acknowledge the likeness to myself the words stuck in my throat. Finally, I was forced to ask the landlady if she would be so kind as to bring me a gla.s.s of brandy-wine, for I was afraid she would discover the internal convulsions which threatened every moment to rend my ribs asunder. While she was looking after the brandy-wine I made a hasty copy of the portrait, and I now leave it to the impartial reader to decide upon the supposed resemblance. It may be like me, but I confess the fact never would have impressed itself upon my mind from any personal observation of my own countenance taken in front of a looking-gla.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.]

There was something so genial and cozy about the inn at Djerkin that I partially resolved to stop all night. At dinner-time the landlord made his appearance steaming hot from the kitchen. I no longer hesitated about staying. I am a great believer in the physiognomy of inns as well as of landlords. Traveling through a wild country like Norway, where there is little beyond the scenery to attract attention, the unpretending stations by the wayside a.s.sume a degree of importance equaled only by the largest cities in other countries. The approach, the aspect of the place, the physiognomy of the house, become matters of the deepest interest to the solitary wayfarer, who clings to these episodes in the day's journey as the connecting links that bind him to the great family of man. I claim to be able to tell from the general expression of an inn, commencing at the chimney-top and ending at the steps of the front door, exactly what sort of cheer is to be had within--whether the family are happily bound together in bonds of affection; how often the landlord indulges in a bout of hard drinking; and the state of control under which he is kept by the female head of the establishment; nay, I can almost guess, from the general aspect of the house, the exact weight and digestive capacity of mine host; for if the inn promise well for the creature comforts, so will the inn-keeper. And what can be more cheering to a tired wayfarer than to be met at the door by a jolly red-faced old fellow--

"His fair round belly with fat capon lined"--

beefsteaks in the expression of his eye; his bald pate the fac-simile of a rump of mutton; plum-puddings and apple-dumplings in every curve of his chin; his body the living embodiment of a cask of beer supported by two pipes of generous wine; the whole man overflowing with rich juices and essences, gravies, and strong drinks--a breathing incarnation of all the good things of life, whom to look upon is to feel good-natured and happy in the present, and hopeful for the future; such a man, in short, as mine host of the Golden Crown, whose portrait I have endeavored to present.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MODEL LANDLORD.]

If there be any likeness between myself and the son, it certainly does not extend to the father. He carries in his hands a steaming hot plum-pudding; he is a model landlord, and delights in feeding his customers. His voice is greasy like his face. When he laughs it is from his capacious stomach the sounds come. His best jokes are based upon his digestive organs. He gets a little boozy toward evening, but that is merely a hospitable habit of his to prove that his liquors are good. You commit yourself at once to his keeping with a delightful consciousness that in his hands you are safe. He is not a man to suffer an honest customer to starve. Nature, in her prodigality, formed him upon a generous pattern. Whatever does other people good likewise does him good. May he live a thousand years--mine host of the Golden Crown!--and may his shadow never be less!

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

DOWN THE DRIVSDAL.

The next morning I proceeded on my way, resolved, if ever I came this route again, to spend a week at Djerkin. A withered old man accompanied me on the back of the cariole. After half an hour's hard climbing up a very steep hill we reached the highest point of the Dovre Fjeld, 4594 feet above the level of the sea. From this point the view is exceedingly weird and desolate. Owing to the weather, however, which was dark and threatening, I did not stop long to enjoy the view of the barren wastes that lay behind, but was soon dashing at a slapping pace down into the valley of the Drivsdal--one of the most rugged and picturesque in Norway.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DRIVSDAL VALLEY.]

My journey down the valley of the Drivsdal was both pleasant and interesting. A beautiful new road commences at Kongsvold, the last station on the Dovre Fjeld, after pa.s.sing Djerkin, and follows the winding of the river through the narrow gorges of the mountains all the way to Ny Orne. On each side towering and pine-covered mountains rear their rugged crests, sometimes approaching so close to the river as to overhang the road, which for miles on a stretch is hewn from the solid rock.

The innumerable clefts and fissures that mark the rugged fronts of the cliffs; the overhanging trees and shrubbery; the toppling boulders of granite, balanced in mid-air; the rushing torrents that dash from the moss-covered rocks; the seething and foaming waters of the Driv, whirling through the narrow gorges hundreds of feet below the road; the bright blue sky overhead, and the fitful gleams of sunshine darting through the ma.s.ses of pine and circling into innumerable rainbows in the spray of the river, all combine to form a scene of incomparable beauty and grandeur such as I have rarely seen equaled in any part of the world, and only surpa.s.sed by the Siskiyon Mountains in the northern part of California.

About midway down the valley, after pa.s.sing the settlement of Rise, I stopped to examine a curious pa.s.sage of the river in the neighborhood of the Drivstuklere, where it dashes down between two solid walls of rocks, which at this point approach so as to form a pa.s.sage of not more than fifteen feet in width. Securing my cariole horse to a tree by the side of the road, I descended a steep bank under the guidance of my skydskaarl, a bright little fellow about ten years of age, who first called my attention to this remarkable phenomenon. I was soon compelled to follow his example, and crawl over the rocks like a caterpillar to avoid falling into the frightful abyss below. For a distance of fifty or sixty yards, the river, compressed within a limit of fifteen feet, dashes with fearful velocity through its rugged and tortuous boundaries, filling the air with spray, and making an angry moan, as if threatening momentarily to tear the rocks from their solid beds, and sweep them, into the broad and sullen pool below.

The trembling of the ma.s.sive boulder upon which I lay outstretched peering into the raging abyss, the fierce surging of the waters, the whirling clouds of spray, and gorgeous prismatic colors that flashed through them, created an impression that the whole was some wild, mad freak of the elements, gotten up to furnish the traveler with a startling idea of the wonders and beauties of Norwegian scenery.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pa.s.sAGE ON THE DRIV.]

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

A NORWEGIAN HORSE-JOCKEY.

Late one evening I arrived at a lonely little station by the wayside, not far beyond the valley of the Drivsdal. I was cold and hungry, and well disposed to enjoy whatever good cheer the honest people who kept the inn might have in store for me. The house and outbuildings were such as belong to an ordinary farming establishment, and did not promise much in the way of entertainment. Upon entering the rustic doorway I was kindly greeted by the host--a simple, good-natured looking man--who, as usual, showed me into the best room. Now I am not aware of any thing in my appearance that ent.i.tles me to this distinction, but it has generally been my fate, in this sort of travel, to be set apart and isolated from the common herd in the fancy room of the establishment, which I have always found to be correspondingly the coldest and most uncomfortable. It is a great annoyance in Norway to be treated as a gentleman. The commonest lout can enjoy the cozy glow and social gossip of the kitchen or ordinary sitting-room, but the traveler whom these good people would honor must sit shivering and alone in some great barn of a room because it contains a sofa, a bureau, a looking-gla.s.s, a few mantle-piece ornaments, and an occasional picture of the king or some member of the royal family. I have walked up and down these dismal chambers for hours at a time, staring at the daubs on the walls, and picking up little odds and ends of ornaments, and gazing vacantly at them, till I felt a numbness steal all over me, accompanied by a vague presentiment that I was imprisoned for life. The progress of time is a matter of no importance in Norway. To an American, accustomed to see every thing done with energy and promptness, it is absolutely astounding--the indifference of these people to the waste of hours. They seem to be forever asleep, or doing something that bears no possible reference to their ostensible business. If you are hungry and want something to eat in a few minutes, the probability is you will be left alone in the fine room for several hours, at the expiration of which you discover that the inn-keeper is out in the stable feeding his horses, his wife in the back yard looking after the chickens, and his children sitting at a table in the kitchen devouring a dish of porridge. Upon expressing your astonishment that nothing is ready, the good man of the house says "Ja! it will be ready directly, min Herr!" and if you are lucky it comes in another hour--a cup of coffee and some bread perhaps, which you could just as well have had in ten minutes.

Patience may be a virtue in other countries, but it is an absolute necessity in Norway. I believe, after the few weeks' experience I had on the road to Trondhjem, I could without difficulty sit upon a monument and smile at grief.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PRIZE.]

Perceiving through the cracks of the door that there was a good fire in the kitchen, and hearing the cheerful voices of the man and his wife, varied by the merry whistle my skydskaarl, I made bold to go in and ask leave to stand by the fire. The good people seemed a little astonished at first that a person of quality like myself should prefer the kitchen to the fine room with the sofa and bureau, the mantle-piece ornaments and pictures of the royal family; but, by dint of good-humored gossip about the horses, and an extravagant compliment thrown in about the beauty of the landlady's children--for which I hope to be pardoned--I secured a comfortable seat by the fire, and was soon quite at home. The great open fireplace, the blazing pine logs, the well-smoked hobs, the simmering pots and steaming kettles, had something indescribably cheerful about them; and lighting my pipe, I puffed away cozily during the pauses in the conversation, having a delightful consciousness that nature had peculiarly adapted me for the vulgar enjoyments of life, and that every thing approaching the refinements of civilization was a great bore. It was doubtless this taint of the savage in my disposition that made me look with such horror upon neat rooms and civilized furniture, and fall back with such zest upon the primitive comforts of savage life. When I told the people of the house that I was all the way from California--that I had come expressly to see their country--there was no end to the interest and excitement. "Dear me!" they cried, "and you have traveled a long way! You must be very tired! And you must be very rich to travel so far! Ah Gott--how wonderful!" "Did you come all the way in a cariole?"