composed. "No! it must be cotton, or hemp." But I stick to my silk, and finally convince them, and they evidently regard me as a very thriftless sort of person. and neither men nor Norwegian farm lasses tread very lightly. There is a great joke going on-it is to say "Goodnight" to each other in English. How they laugh over it! I can hear every word they say in this wooden house. Let me here say that although sleeping arrangements of this kind appear to be quite common in the wilder parts of Norway, there are no more moral people in the world than the Norwegians of the west coast. The doctor, who was saved from the visitation of the previous night, is up betimes the next morning and wakes me at an early hour. These farmpeople seem to care nothing about sleep during the summer months, having, I suppose, an overdose of it in the winter; for they have been up hours ago, shaving away at little patches of grass among the rocks with their small handscythes, not much larger than three "barberknivs," and nearly as sharp. While Madame Sameline is preparing some more trout for breakfast, and ap It is now as dark as it will be during this short summer night, and Mrs. Sameline has brought into my room a curious old repoussé work Swedish candlestick, with twisted stem, in which is a home-made, tapering, tallow candle nearly two feet in length. I am very tired, and though immensely interested in all these things, should be better pleased if the family would take into consideration my doubtless foolish English prejudices and forbear from spitting on the floor; in other respects my visitors are most clean. Each and all of them have removed their wooden shoes before entering the room, and are walking on the bare floor with their stockinged feet. The grandfather, in particular, takes a kindly interest in me, and sits on the edge of my bed chewing tobacco and acting after the manner of chewers. The candle grow-parently much puzzled about frying ing dim, he snuffs it with his fingers, and drops the lighted fragment of wick on the floor, extinguishing it with his stockinged foot. Finally, some of them wander out. The last to go is the eldest son, and he, I believe, has a sort of morbid desire to see what an Englishman looks like when undressed. But I do not intend to satisfy his wishes in this respect, and by dint of "god nat" many times repeated, induce him to go. But he has learned of me the English of this expression, and ten minutes later puts his shaggy head in at the door, grins, jerks out "Goodnight," retreats, and I see him no more. A good deep bed of straw with a warm woollen rug over it is not an uncomfortable thing, provided there is leg room, which in this case is wanting. But after these long journeyings, fishing by the way, one is thankful for anything in the shape of a bed, and heaven forbid that I should criticise the kindly hospitality of these good people. For a few minutes there is a great thumping about overhead, for the common sleeping-room of both girls and boys appears to be above, them in butter, a method which we had suggested to her through Sivert, I wander among the farm-buildings, and with, I hope, a pardonable curiosity, poke my nose into a number of places where I have no business. In one little wooden storehouse are sacks of meal, and barrels containing salted herrings of evil odor. A little way down the hillside is a tiny hut, some eight feet square, through the turf roof of which blue smoke is oozing. I look in here and see the farmer's eldest son working at a small forge, fashioning a new set of shoes for the mares which are to take us on our journey in a day or two. The animals, with musical bells fastened to their necks by a leather collar, and with foals running by their side and taking an early but spasmodic breakfast, are feeding on the short sweet grass near this little smithy. Two old, and evidently not often used, stolkjaerres have been dragged out from some shed and placed in front of the house containing the loom, to be prepared for the continuation of our journey. The shaft of one has been broken and has evi dently been spliced that morning with a piece of fishing-line. Bearing in mind that the roads are bad and the hills steep, that there are no traces, and a great deal of weight is placed on the ponies' shoulders, a nervous person might not feel altogether happy in contemplating the prospect of a journey in these particular convey ances. I try to take stock of the farmer's possessions. Imprimis, there is a good stout timber-built red-tiled house, and the more old-fashioned loom-house, which, I dare say, was the dwellingplace of an earlier generation. There are one or two small sheds used as stores, the big barn I have mentioned, and the little smithy. Close to the house is an all-too-small potato patch, and round it grows fine grass full of sweet herbage. Quaintly cut out of the grass in sundry places are a few square yards of land devoted to grain crops. By the edge of the potatoes are about twenty hop plants. Most of the cows and cattle are away on the common grazing grounds up the mountains. It is by no means a small farm, and I am told the tax paid to the State for it is about fifteen pounds a year. There is no hired labor; everything is done by the man and his family, and never have I met with more contented, happy, prosperous people. In the stone basement beneath the room in which we have our meals, the farmer is busy brewing two or three barrels of beer; while over a wood fire on an open hearth, Mrs. Sameline is frying our trout. Earlier in the morning the doctor has told me, with much amusement, that on his giving out some tea for breakfast, Sivert has said that more tea was unnecessary as the leaves which were used overnight would do again. "Of course I told them to throw away the tea-leaves," says the doctor, "and the man seemed quite surprised." While in the kitchen, Sivert comes up to me with a serious face. "Do you think I should throw away the tealeaves which were used yesterday? They are very good." From this I gather that they looked upon the doctor as a wasteful, thriftless sort of person, whose judgment in these matters is of no account; but pay me the compliment of regarding me as prudence personified, and as one not likely to fall in with such wicked waste. "Don't you think, Sivert, that Mrs. Johannesen would like those tealeaves?" I query. "Oh! yes, she would," says Sivert without hesitation, and so we settle the matter and please everybody, particularly Sameline; but it is quite clear the doctor has fallen in their estimation. Sivert announcing that breakfast will be ready shortly, I return to the house, and see through an open door the eldest daughter busy at her sewing-machine. She is sitting in a tiny cupboard of a room, in the angle of which is a corner cupboard, having wrought-metal hinges and finely carved oak doors. It must be centuries old, and contrasts strangely with the modern machine the girl is using. The farmer and his family are now so busy that they withstand the strong temptation to see the Englishmen eat with forks. One of the girls offers us "fladbröd" this morning, a contrivance evolved out of meal and water. I believe it can be easily imitated by means of a disc of stout whitey-brown paper about two feet in diameter. The delicate, crisp, short eating "fladbröd" of the hotels is very different from this stuff, which is tough, and requires excellent teeth for its proper mastication. On this, potatoes, porridge, and herrings, these people seem principally to live; with the addition of some trout in the summer. Green vegetables they do not trouble to grow, and for lack of these purifiers, eating too many fish, and perhaps owing to the lack of ventilation in their houses during the long winter nights, scrofula and leprosy are all too common. Apple cultivation is steadily on the increase; but the people might none the less turn their attention with great advantage to the kitchen garden. During breakfast rain commences. As soon as our frugal meal is over we sally forth, clad in mackintoshes, ascend the slope of that great rocky dam, and spend the day on the beautiful lake, catching most excellent, pink-fleshed trout. In the evening, when we sup, the family again surrounds us. And this is very much our life in this primitive spot. The curiosity of the people concerning us, and our feeling of strangeness, gradually wear off. As our hosts begin to know us better, and we them, our regard and esteem for each other increases. Stay, I have almost forgotten to explain the mystery of the kettledrum. I sound Sivert on the subject, and he tells me that the farmer's eldest son, like all young men in Norway, has been drilled for a soldier and has developed strong musical tastes which have led to his being appointed drummer. Word is passed round the family that I have asked about the drum, and on our second evening a deputation waits upon me, headed by Sivert, to inquire if I would like to hear the drum played. I weakly say "Yes," and about the time that I am longing to turn in, the whole family again troops into my room, the eldest son arming himself with long sticks, shoulders the drumsling, and fires off volleys of rolls, beats, tattoos, and other things at my unfortunate head. I say "Mange tak" many times, but the more I thank him the more he plays, until his arms weary and then, thank Heaven! I am left in peace. The moral is that English travellers in Norway should not be inquisitive in the matter of drums. How the Condor is Captured.-There were eight in the party, all well mounted on fast bronchos that, in spite of the long ride, were in good condition. The eight were lined up on the edge of the wood, and with their leader well in advance, with reata in hand, moved on. We were walking our horses, drinking in the beauty of it all, when Moreno gave a shout, and, clapping spurs to his broncho, sprang forward. The rest closed in and faced for a moment a huge bird that had been feeding upon the body of a sheep, and that, surprised, started to run; then, beating the air with its enormous wings, it raised itself eight or ten feet when the whirling reata of the Mexican fell over its neck. The fighting, struggling creature flapped heavily to the ground and began a singular dance, holding up its wings and vainly endeavoring to throw off the rope. The bird presented an extraordinary stretch of wing, and was a magnificent specimen of the California condor, the largest bird found within the borders of the United States. After dancing and leaping around in a circle, the condor made a vigorous spring into the air and seemed to clamber upward, only to fall headlong again and roll over and over, biting at the lariat, snapping its powerful beak viciously at the horses, that trembled with fear at the strange figure. Moreno held the lariat around the pommel of his saddle in a firm grasp, but in some way the noose slipped and became caught squarely around the bird beneath its wings. Thus, partly relieved, it sprang into the air, literally lifting the Mexican from his saddle for a moment, suggesting the power and strength of the bird. The condor having succeeded in entangling itself in a tree, the party dismounted and proceeded to pull it down-no easy task; and finally the Mexican was obliged to climb up and secure it. The claws of the condor are not offensive weapons, nor used as such, but the powerful beak was lunged at the climber, like a sledge-hammer, with a force sufficient to have crushed a man's skull. But the Mexican had taken off his jacket, and, boldly approaching the condor, struck its head in return, warding off the blows of its powerful wings until it became exhausted, when he seized it by the neck and wing and lowered it to the ground, where it was secured and bound. Not half a mile away another fine specimen was seen roosting in the trees, but soon flew away, rising in graceful circles till it attained to a vast height. For SIX DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually for warded for a year, free of postage. Remittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks, and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & CO. Single copies of the LIVING AGE, 15 cents. |