Project Gutenberg's Peeps at Many Lands: Norway, by A.F. Mockler-Ferryman This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Peeps at Many Lands: Norway Author: A.F. Mockler-Ferryman Illustrator: A. Heaton Cooper Nico Jungman Release Date: February 23, 2008 [EBook #24676] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEEPS AT MANY LANDS: NORWAY *** Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ Original Cover. Sætersdalen Girl in National Costume [Contents] Skjæggedalsfos, Hardanger Fjord Skjæggedalsfos, Hardanger Fjord Page 61. Original Title Page. Peeps at Many Lands Norway By Lieut.-Col. A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, F.R.G.S., F.Z.S. With twelve full page illustrations in colour By A. Heaton Cooper & Nico Jungman London Adam and Charles Black [Contents] 1911 First published September, 1909 Reprinted September, 1910 Contents Chapter I. The Land of the Vikings II. Modern Norway III. The People and Their Industries IV. On the Farm V. Manners and Customs VI. School and Play VII. Some Fairy Tales VIII. The Hardanger Fjord IX. A Glimpse of the Fjelds X. Wild Nature—Beasts XI. Wild Nature—Birds XII. Waterfalls, Snowfields, and Glaciers XIII. Driving in Norway XIV. Arctic Days and Nights XV. Laplanders at Home XVI. Winter in Christiania List of Illustrations Skjæggedalsfos, Hardanger Fjord Nærodal, from Stalheim, Sogne Fjord Fishing Through the Ice on Christiania Fjord Making “Fladbröd”—A Cottage Interior A Hardanger Bride A Baby of Telemarken Godösund, Hardanger Fjord A Sæter Bondhus Glacier, Hardanger Fjord Lærdalsören A Lapp Mother and Child Skiers Drinking Goosewine [Contents] [Contents] Page 1 5 9 15 20 25 32 37 43 48 54 60 66 70 78 84 [Contents] frontispiece Facing Page viii 9 16 25 32 41 48 57 64 73 80 Sætersdalen Girl In National Costume Sketch-Map of Norway on page vii. Sketch-Map of Norway. Sketch-Map of Norway. on the cover [vii] [Contents] Nærodal, from Stalheim, Sogne Fjord Nærodal, from Stalheim, Sogne Fjord Page 6. Norway Chapter I The Land of the Vikings Who has not heard of the Vikings—the dauntless sea-rovers, who in the days of long ago were the dread of Northern Europe? We English should know something of them, for Viking blood flowed in the veins of many of our ancestors. And these fierce fighting men came in their ships across the North Sea from Norway on more than one occasion to invade England. But they came once too often, and were thoroughly defeated at the Battle of Stamford Bridge, when, as will be remembered, Harald the Hard, King of Norway, was killed in attempting to turn his namesake, King Harold of England, off his throne. Norwegian historians, however, do not say very much about this particular invasion. They prefer to dwell on the great deeds of another King Harald, who was called “Fairhair,” and who began his reign [Contents] [1] [Contents] some two hundred years earlier. This Harald was only a boy of ten years of age when he came to the throne, but he determined to increase the size of his kingdom, which was then but a small one, so he trained his men to fight, built grand new ships, and then began his conquests. Norway was at that time divided up into a number of districts or small kingdoms, each of which was ruled over by an Earl or petty King, and it was these rulers whom Harald set to work to subdue. He intended to make one united kingdom of all Norway, and he eventually succeeded in doing so. But he had many a hard fight; and if the Sagas, as the historical records of the North are called, speak truly, he fought almost continuously during twelve long years before he had accomplished his task, and even then he was only just twenty-one years of age. They say that he did all these wonderful things because a girl, named Gyda, whom he wanted to marry, refused to have anything to say to him until he had made himself King of a really big kingdom. He made a vow that he would not comb or cut his hair until he had conquered the whole country. He led his men to victory after victory, and at length fought his last great battle at Hafrsfjord (to the south of Stavanger). The sea-fight was desperate and long, but Harald’s fleet succeeded in overpowering that of the enemy, and Sulki, King of Rogaland, as well as Erik, King of Hardanger, were slain. Then Harald cut and dressed his hair, the skalds composed poems in honour of the event, and for ever after he was known as Fairhair. He was truly a great Viking, and he did not rest content with the conquest of Norway alone; for he brought his ships across the North Sea and conquered the Isle of Man, the Hebrides, the Shetlands, and the Orkneys, and he lived to the age of eighty-three. Then there are the stories of the two Olafs—Olaf Tryggvasson and Olaf the Saint, each of whom took part in many a fight on British soil, each of whom was the champion of Christianity in Norway and fought his way to the throne, and each of whom fell in battle under heroic circumstances, the one at Svold (A.D. 1000), the other at Sticklestad (A.D. 1030). To us it is interesting to know that King Olaf Tryggvasson, on one of his early Viking expeditions, was baptized in the Scilly Isles, that as his second wife he married an Irish Princess, and that for some time he lived in Dublin. To the Norwegians he is a Norse hero of the greatest renown, who during his short reign of barely five years never ceased to force Christianity on the heathen population, and who, at the age of thirty-one, came to an untimely end. His fleet was ambuscaded and surrounded, and when his men had made their last stand he refused to surrender. Neither would he suffer the ignominy of capture or death at the hands of his enemies; so, with shield and sword in hand, and in full armour, he leaped overboard, and immediately sank. For years afterwards his faithful people believed that he would appear again, and many fancied that, on occasions, their hero’s spirit visited them. Everyone knows the old triumphant line, “London Bridge is broken down,” yet few are aware that the words are translated from an old Norse song, and fewer still could say who broke down the bridge. The story goes that this was accomplished by the other Olaf, afterwards known as St. Olaf. He and his Vikings had allied themselves with Etheldred the Unready against the Danes, who held the Thames above London Bridge. The bridge itself, which in those days was a rough wooden structure, was densely packed with armed men, prepared to resist the advance of the combined fleets. But Olaf drove his stout ships against it, made them fast to the piers, hoisted all his sail and got out his oars, and succeeded in upsetting the bridge into the river, thus securing victory for Etheldred. But that was before Olaf gained the throne of Norway. What he did as King of that country would take too long to tell here. Every district of Norway possesses legends bearing on his visits when engaged in converting the people to Christianity, and describing his powers of working miracles. Everywhere the name of St. Olaf still remains engraven on the country. His death, however, was that of a soldier—on the battle-field; and the lance which Norway’s patron saint carried in his last fight may even now be seen by the altar in Trondhjem Cathedral. It was St. Olaf’s half-brother, Harald the Hard, who fell, as we have said, at Stamford Bridge, when attempting the invasion of England in 1066. But all this is history nearly a thousand years old, and the stirring tales of the Vikings are fully recorded, and may be read in the Sagas. Ten centuries have changed the order of things. To-day we have, in our turn, become the invaders, albeit full of peace and good-will; and over the same seas upon which once danced Long Ship, Serpent, and Dragon, our great ugly, smoky steamers now plough their way. Chapter II Modern Norway “Norroway over the Foam,” as it used to be called, is a good land to go to and a beautiful land to look upon. It lies less than two days’ journey from our shores, so it is easy enough to reach. Away [2] [3] [4] [5] [Contents] from the towns—and they are not many—everything is picturesque, grand, and majestic, and the country indeed looks (as the people firmly believed of it long ago) as if it might have been the playground of countless giants, who amused themselves by pulling up acres of land, letting the sea into the valleys, and pelting each other with mountains and islands. Thank goodness the giants have disappeared! But if they really did have a hand in fashioning Norway, they are to be congratulated on the result. One of the first things one likes to know about a foreign country is its size. Well, Norway is just a little larger than the British Isles, and that part of it which forms the usual holiday touring ground of British and other people—i.e., from Trondhjem to the south—is no larger than England. The remainder of the country consists of a long, narrow strip running up into the Arctic Circle, and ending in Lapland in the Far North. On three sides Norway is washed by the sea; on the other side she has two neighbours—Sweden from the south right away up to Lapland, and then Russia. Now let us see what sort of a land it is. First, there are the fjords, stretching often a hundred miles or more inland from the sea-coast, sometimes with delightful fertile shores, at other times hemmed in on either hand by rocky cliffs rising two or three thousand feet sheer from the water. Then there are the mountains, which are everywhere; for, with the exception of Spain, Norway is the most mountainous country in Europe. And on their summits lie vast fields of eternal snow, with glaciers pushing down into the green valleys, or even into the ocean itself. Again, from these mountains flow down rivers and streams, now forming magnificent waterfalls as they leap over the edge of the lofty plateau, now rushing wildly over their rock-strewn torrent beds, until they reach the lake, which, thus gathering the waters, send them on again in one wide river to the fjord. Such things lend themselves to create scenery which cannot fail to charm, and in one day in Norway you may see them all. Take, for instance, the famous view of the Nærodal from Stalheim, a place which every visitor to Western Norway knows well. Probably nowhere in the world is there anything to approach it in grandeur, for not only are there the great mountains forming the sides of the actual valley in the foreground, but away beyond appears a succession of other mountains, stretching far across the Sogne Fjord, even to the snowy peaks of Jotunheim. People who live in such a land must needs be proud of it, and the descendants of the Vikings believe that there exists in the world no fairer country than their beloved Norge.1 Maybe they are not far wrong. But these Northern people are not numerous, and they are not forced, for want of space, to spoil their landscapes by studding the country-side with little red-brick cottages, for all Norway contains not one-half the number of inhabitants found in London. Under such circumstances the feeling of freedom is great, and the Norwegians claim that, as a nation, they are the freest of the free. Recent events would seem to justify the claim. Only the other day Norway dissolved the Union with Sweden with little difficulty, and of her own free-will cast herself loose from the light fetters with which, for nearly a century, she considered that she had been bound. With Norway time has dealt kindly. In modern ages war has not ravaged her lands. The oldest living Norseman was born too late to fight for his country, and it is to be hoped that his grandsons and great-grandsons may continue to live in ignorance of the horrors which war entails. Yet are they all prepared to take up arms in defence of hearth and home, for each able-bodied man serves his time as a soldier, and doubtless, if occasion should arise, would prove to the world that the old Viking spirit within him was still alive. It is, however, the sense of restfulness pervading everything that is Norway’s charm, and even the ordinary bustle of life is unknown outside the towns. In the summer the beaten tracks of the country are practically in the hands of the foreign visitors, whose money helps not a little to support many a Norse family. In the winter things are different, as, except perhaps in Christiania, very few foreigners are to be met with, and the Norwegians live their own lives. The towns are neither numerous nor large, and, with a few exceptions, are situated on the sea-coast. Perhaps a quarter of the whole population of Norway is to be found in the towns, the remainder consisting of country-folk, who live on their farms. What we term villages barely exist, and the nearest approach to them is a group of farms with a church in the neighbourhood. Christiania, the capital of the country, is the largest town, and other towns of importance are Bergen, Trondhjem, Stavanger, Frederikstad, Tönsberg, and Christiansand, all busy seaports and picturesquely situated. But the interest of a country such as Norway does not lie in the towns, which, with their wide streets, stately buildings, well-stocked shops, hotels, restaurants, places of amusement, and crowded dwellings, do not differ very greatly from other European towns, and a townsman’s life in his town is much the same all over the civilized world. Town-dwellers in all Norway number no more than the inhabitants of Manchester, and though force of circumstance necessitates their living in the towns, their thoughts are ever of the country—of the [6] [7] [8] 1 fjeld, the fjord, the forest, the mountain lake, or the salmon river. In the summer nothing pleases them better than to tramp, with knapsack on back, for days on end, in the wilderness of the mountains, obtaining shelter for the night at some out-of-the-way mountain farm or at one of the snug little huts of the Norwegian Tourist Club. In the winter they have their sleighs, snow-shoes, toboggans, and skates to assist them in taking air and exercise, and in a Norwegian winter one does not live in a state of uncertainty as to whether the ice will bear or the snow be still lying on the ground when one wakes up in the morning. So comfortable has travelling in Norway been made for foreigners that there is no difficulty in going anywhere. There is a railway from Christiania to Bergen, and another from Christiania to Trondhjem. There are regular steamers on all the fjords and along the coast, even up to the North Cape and beyond. Wherever there are roads there is a well-appointed service of vehicles and posting-stations, and wherever anyone is likely to go by steamer, road, or rail there are hotels. Fishing Through the Ice on Christiania Fjord Fishing Through the Ice on Christiania Fjord Page 14. Pronounced Nor-gay. Chapter III The People and Their Industries The greater number of the people are country-folk, who gain a living by farming, timber-working, or, when living near the sea, by fishing. Then there are a certain number of men who are soldiers by [9] [Contents] profession, and more still who are sailors—not fighting sailors, but serving on board the 8,000 merchant vessels which Norway possesses. Everyone who lives in a Norwegian town is connected one way or another with some sort of trade or profession; and, of course, in the seaports there are always ships coming and going, unloading and loading, and so providing plenty of work for a great many men. In the towns also there are, as in every civilized town, men who follow regular professions—clergymen, merchants, bankers, lawyers, doctors, hotel-keepers, shop-keepers, and others, as well as Government officials, learned professors, literary men, and artists. As a nation Norway cannot be considered wealthy, but the fact that she employs so many ships for trading purposes is perhaps a proof that she is fairly prosperous. There are few really rich Norwegians, and still fewer who are able to live as independent gentlemen on their estates; no man can claim the right to be called noble, for the nobility of the country was abolished by law nearly a century ago, and since then equality has been the birthright of every Norseman. But no one can prevent money made in trade gradually finding its way into the pockets of a few capable men of business, and thus class distinctions must be created. The majority of the Norwegians, however, are content to work and earn sufficient to maintain themselves and their families in fairly comfortable circumstances, and fortunately the products of the country enable them to do so. The forests, covering as they do almost one-fourth of the area of Norway, are of immense value, and the timber trade is a source of income to a great number of the people. Much of it, of course, is used in the country itself, as the houses and bridges are mostly built of wood; but there is plenty left to be exported to England and other foreign countries, as anyone who visits the ports in the South of Norway can judge for himself. Between Christiansand and Christiania, for instance, one may see enormous stores of timber awaiting shipment, and one wonders how it will ever be shipped. Then, travelling among the forest-clad mountains, one finds the woodman busy with his axe, and the great bare tree-trunks being hauled down to the banks of the torrent or river, so as to float on the waters to the low country, and thence even to the sea-coast. Again, on lakes like the Randsfjord, the sight presented by the gathered logs, which have floated down from the mountains, and which are being rafted for their final voyage, is an extraordinary one. Acres and acres of floating timber cover the end of the lake, and the massive trunks are packed so close that you might wander about on them at your will for hours. But it is not only timber in a raw state that does so much for the prosperity of Norway, for a great trade is done also in matches as well as in wood-pulp. The latter is a comparatively modern industry, and its development has been rapid. Anyone who visits Christiania and has the opportunity of taking the little town of Hönefos in his travels, should not fail to pay a visit to the pulping works. It is said that in Chicago one may see a herd of swine driven in at the front gate of a factory and brought out at another gate in the form of sausages. At Hönefos trees go into the works and come out as paper, or very nearly so. The waterfall, which gave a name to the place, is at the meeting of two rivers—one flowing from Spirillen Lake and the other from the Randsfjord, and was at one time beautiful. Now, however, its picturesqueness is marred by the presence of a barn-like structure containing the pulping works, while the fall itself is utilized to drive the machinery. And, it must be confessed, all this has been brought about by an Englishman, for here at Hönefos is made the paper upon which is printed Lloyd’s Weekly and the Daily Chronicle. Neither is the fact concealed, but rather boasted of in large letters on the outside of the barn. But Norway can well spare this one scrap from its storehouse of scenery, and the works find regular employment for upwards of a hundred Norwegians. The process of pulping is simplicity itself; the trees are felled in the forests on the hillsides close by, and sawn into blocks. Aerial wires stretch from the felling ground to the works, and the blocks come swinging down in baskets, to be handed over forthwith to the mercy of the machinery. With the aid of heavy crushers and a certain amount of water the logs are soon reduced to pulp, which then floats away into sifters, to be eventually rolled out into flat sheets. An immense amount of this pulp is exported to England in sacks, and is used for many other purposes besides paper-making. Another thing which we get from Norway is ice. Most of those huge blocks of ice which you see in the fishmongers’ shops in the summer have come across the North Sea, and ice-cutting is a very important business in the winter months. The ice is obtained principally from the mountain lakes, and in the vicinity of Christiania long wooden chutes are erected from the mountain-tops to the edge of the fjord. Down these the huge cubes travel, direct from their homes to the deck of the boat, and thus save the cost of overland transport. They are sawn most carefully, the dimensions being about two feet each way; rope handles are then frozen into the blocks for facility of movement, and the cubes are stored in ice-houses until the summer, by which time they have lost almost half their original weight. [10] [11] [12] Next to timber, the chief export from the country is fish (including cod-liver oil). The great fisheries are round the Lofödden Islands on the North-West Coast, well within the Arctic Circle, and it is estimated that some 30,000 men and 6,000 boats are engaged in capturing the cod from January to April each year. The fishermen assemble from far and wide, and take up their residence for the season in temporary huts, clustered together on the shores of the islands. The work is arduous as well as dangerous, for storms and heavy seas are of frequent occurrence, and tides and currents among the islands most treacherous. And here, close to the fisheries, is situated the dreaded whirlpool, the Mælstrom of renown. But it is the people’s living, and in a favourable season they make immense hauls. An ordinary catch for an ordinary day is 500 cod per boat, and a good day will double that number, though in such a case the boat has to make a second trip to bring the fish ashore. A simple calculation will show that millions of cod are landed on the islands every day. Imagine the sight and imagine the smell! The fish are split open and, after the roe and the liver have been removed, hung up on hurdles to dry. Some are sold to the fishing-smacks, which come to the islands to buy the fresh fish, and then salt it down in barrels, or take it away to dry elsewhere. Scores of bundles of dried cod, looking like slips of leather, may be seen for the remainder of the year on every wharf in Norway. Who eats it all is a mystery; but it goes to England and Spain in large quantities, and most of us have eaten it on Ash Wednesdays. Cod’s roe and liver are probably of more value than the fish from which they are extracted, and there are large factories for making cod-liver oil, not only at the Loföddens, but also at other places on the coast. At Hammerfest, which boasts of being the northernmost town in the world, the whole air is laden with the nauseous fumes issuing from the steaming caldrons of boiling cod-liver oil. The fish trade of Norway is not, however, confined to cod and the Lofödden Isles, for in many other parts fishing is the chief industry of the people, and hundreds of thousands of barrels of salted herrings and sprats leave the country every year, while sardines and anchovies are tinned or potted in the factories at Stavanger and other large seaports. The salmon, also, for which the Norwegian rivers are famous, are brought over to England packed in ice, and well repay the owners of the rivers. Even in the depth of winter a good deal of sea fishing goes on through the ice of the frozen fjords. The fisherman erects a shelter of some kind to protect him from the biting wind, and within view of this he breaks two or three holes in the thick ice. In each hole his baited hooks are dropped down, the other end of the line being fastened to a simple contrivance of pieces of stick, which begin to waggle when a fish is hooked. On the Christiania Fjord numbers of these sporting fishermen are to be seen at work all through the winter, and judging by the frequency of their visits to their different holes, they must take a quantity of fish. It is cold work, however, sitting and watching for the signal to come from the hole, and one cannot help admiring the men’s energy and keenness. It is only natural that, living in a country where fish is so plentiful, the people themselves should be great fish-eaters, and the daily fish-markets at Bergen and other places on the coast are most interesting sights. As a rule the fish are brought to market alive in half-sunken canoes, towed astern of the fishing-boats, and at Bergen all the bargaining is done between the buyers on the quayside and the sellers in their boats. In proportion to the population the variety of occupations in Norway is certainly great, and there are other industries besides those already mentioned. There is, for example, a considerable trade in skins and furs, in condensed milk, butter, and margarine, and in certain minerals and chemicals. Employment is found also for many men on the railways—in road-making, in boat and shipbuilding, in timber-dressing, in mechanical engineering, in slate-quarrying, in stone-cutting, and in mining (principally in the silver mines at Köngsberg). It would seem, therefore, as if there were plenty of work for the Norwegians to do, and they are willing workers. Abject poverty, as we know the term, has no place in Norway at present, for the country can support its people, thanks, perhaps, to the fact that the desire to emigrate to America and Canada is strong. [13] [14] [15] Making “Fladbröd”—A Cottage Interior Making “Fladbröd”—A Cottage Interior Page 19. Chapter IV On the Farm Norway is not like England, where nearly every bit of ground is cultivated, for nothing will grow on bare rocks, and a good deal of Norway is barren land. In fact, except in the low country down in the south, the only land worth cultivating lies, as a rule, in the valleys near the fjords. There are situated all the farms, sometimes with small orchards of apples and cherries, but more often with potato plots, a little corn, and a great amount of grassland. As the mountains are always so close at hand, the fields are generally strewn with rocks and boulders, and are very uneven, so haymaking is not easy, and such a thing as a mowing-machine would be quite useless. Every blade of grass that can be gathered has to be made into hay, otherwise the ponies and cows would starve in the winter, as they are often snowed up for weeks at a time. Haymaking is, therefore, a great business, and the amount of grass which the Norwegians contrive to scrape off their land is marvellous. At the best of times it only grows to a height of about six inches, but scythes and reaping- hooks find their way into every nook and corner, and grass that no English farmer would trouble to cut is all raked in with the greatest care. Parties go up the mountain-sides to ledges of the cliffs, and on to the tops of the mountains, to make sure that nothing is wasted, the grass being brought down to the farms to be dried. Long wires may be seen stretching from the valleys away up, thousands of feet, to the tops of the [Contents] [16] mountains, and on these the bundles of grass are tied, to come swirling down to the farmstead. There is no time in the short Northern summer to make the hay as we make it, and there is usually so much rain that the grass would never dry at all if left lying on the ground; so long hurdles are put up in positions where they will catch the sun and the wind, and on them the grass is hung up to dry, there remaining until it has made itself into hay. Afterwards it is stored in covered barns ready for winter use. The corn, also, is dried in a peculiar manner. As it is cut it is made up into small sheaves, a number of these being tied, ears downwards, to a pole planted upright in the ground. This makes drying rapid, and, if wet weather sets in, the rain runs off freely. A field of these wheat-stacks has a very odd appearance at a little distance, and near the woods one sees similar, though somewhat larger, stacks of branches and leaves, on which the goats are fed in the winter. Directly the snow has melted off the mountains the flocks and herds are sent up to the highland pastures (sæters), usually in charge of the younger women and girls of the farm, and there, throughout the summer, the dairy work is carried on. As in all mountainous countries, rich and sweet herbage follows the melting of the snow, and the cows and goats give an abundance of good milk, which is turned into butter and cheese, to be sold or consumed in the winter. Life at the sæter-hut, or mountain farm, is healthy and delightful, though much hard work has to be got through each day. Children seldom go to the sæters until old enough to be able to do real work, but one often sees a girl of fourteen or so looking after a flock of goats. She will be out with them all day as they feed on the mountain-sides, and will do all the milking. When seen for the first time this is rather an amusing operation, and decidedly a practical one. The milkmaid seizes a goat, straddles her, with face towards the goat’s tail, and, stooping down, proceeds to milk. From a little distance all you see is the goat’s hind-legs emerging from beneath a blue petticoat, which looks most peculiar. But the children who are too young to spend the summer at the sæters find plenty to do at home, and they learn almost as soon as they can toddle that there is work for everyone. Quite small boys and girls manage to do a good day’s haymaking, and they can row a boat or drive a carriole before they have reached their teens. Such things they regard as amusements, for they have few other ways of amusing themselves, and their one ambition is to do what their fathers and mothers do. In some cases the small farmers move their whole families up to the mountain pastures for the summer; and, in addition to the dairy work, they rent the fishing on some of the mountain lakes, which they net freely. The trout thus caught are split open and salted down in barrels, eventually being sent down to the markets in the towns, where they fetch a good price. And all these peasants possess rifles, and are keen sportsmen, so that when August comes they go in pursuit of the wild reindeer, and lay up a store of meat, which, salted and dried, comes in very handy in the hard times of winter. As a rule the peasants eat very little meat, and what they do eat has probably been smoked and dried and hung up for several months. A good deal of salt fish is consumed; but the principal food is porridge (gröd), made of barley, rye, or oatmeal, and eaten generally with sour buttermilk, with the addition of potatoes, when plentiful. White bread is not found far from the towns, and the black, or rye, bread is a heavy compound, a taste for which takes an Englishman some time to acquire. But even that is superior to the fladbröd, which in appearance and consistency resembles old boot- leather. The well-to-do farmer lives more sumptuously. He occasionally has fresh meat and fresh fish, and the dried articles nearly every day. He also indulges in cheese, usually of the commoner kind, known as prim, or mysost, which is not unlike brown Windsor soap. There are two other native cheeses, but they are considered somewhat expensive luxuries. They are called gammelost and pultost, and are made from sour skimmed milk, being afterwards kept in a dark cellar for a year or so to ripen. The latter is the greater delicacy, and is stored, in a sloppy state, in wooden tubs. If you should ever chance to see one of the tubs being produced, do not wait to see it opened, or your nose will never forget it! Verily, winter is the bugbear of the struggling Norwegian countryman’s existence. Like the provident ant, he spends the greater part of the summer in laying up for the winter, and he has not only himself and his family to think of, but also his cattle, for if the latter cannot be properly housed and fed he will be ruined. There are times, however, when he contrives to throw off the constant thought of the future, and when he can enjoy himself thoroughly. Sunday is a day of rest, with possibly a long row across the fjord to church, after which comes a good gossip with the neighbours, and the chance of a feast at a friend’s farm. There are also high-days and holidays, weddings and christenings, accompanied by plentiful food and drink, as well as by dancing and fiddling. But when the snow covers up the country the days are none too exciting, though the cattle have to be fed and many odd jobs attended to. Most of the men are handy carpenters, and can make such things as dairy utensils, while the women in many parts weave sufficient cloth to keep the whole family clothed. By the younger men, however, the season is looked forward to as a time of real enjoyment. [17] [18] [19] [20] Then it is that they get out their snowshoes and enter with zest into the grand sport of ski-ing, or, taking their guns with them, go off on their ski to shoot ryper or hares for the market. Such is the life of the ordinary small farmer and peasant; but down by the fjords and on the beaten track of the foreign tourists the larger farmer has grasped the situation, and has discovered the value of having more than one string to his bow. So in summer he combines hotel-keeping with farming. His farm produce is consumed in his hotel, and if he is fortunate enough to have a salmon river flowing through his land, he can be certain of a good rent for it. Thus the prosperous farmer becomes a person of some importance in the district, and one day, perhaps, a Member of the Storthing, or Parliament. Chapter V Manners and Customs The religion of the country is the Lutheran, almost in its original form, for in some matters the Norwegians are most conservative. Though not, perhaps, what we would consider a religious-minded people, they are naturally good, honest, and kind, and they take their religion on trust. They pay tithes, and give Easter and Christmas offerings to their clergy willingly, since they regard the priest as a superior person, and hold him in high esteem. He is a man, like his fellows, and farms his own land, which appeals to the people in the country parts. Moreover, he is possessed of learning, and away from the towns he is mainly responsible for the national education. Often the journey to church is long, for the farms lie far apart, and when the church is distant ponies or boats are brought into requisition for the conveyance of, at any rate, the women and children. Down by the fjord on a fine Sunday morning the sight of the boats crossing over to a church is a picturesque one. Deep laden with men, women, and children, they come one after another; and when they reach the shore, the women take their clean white head-dresses and gay kerchiefs out of the compact little tiner (oval chip-wood boxes), and finish their toilets before going up to the church. The Norwegian Sabbath begins on Saturday evening and ends at noon on Sunday, after which time the day is spent in simple enjoyment as a true holiday. Then in the evening the boats start for home, and across the still waters one may hear the women singing glees, as often as not to the accompaniment of the fiddle. A wedding causes quite as much interest and excitement in Norway as it does in England, and in the olden time the festivities lasted for a week or more. Nowadays the merry-making has been somewhat curtailed, but the actual ceremony has lost none of its solemnity and little of its brightness. In the towns civilization has robbed the wedding of its picturesqueness. The men are clothed in their best “blacks,” as if going to a funeral, and the ladies wear dresses of Parisian style. But away in the depths of the country one may still see a real Norwegian wedding, with the bride and bridesmaids, if not also most of the guests, dressed in the national costume, and it is a pretty sight. In front comes a stolkjærre, the pony being led by the master of the ceremonies. On the seat sits the bride in the full dress of the country, and wearing her bridal crown; by her side the bridegroom, also well adorned for the occasion; and, on the step of the cart, that most important person, the fiddler, working his bow with astounding energy. If the pony can bear the weight, perhaps a couple of the bride’s relations will sit up behind, otherwise they will walk in the procession which follows; and there may be seen all the available peasants of the district—young men and maidens, grandfathers and grandchildren. So they wend their way to the church; and after the service, if the good old customs be kept up, the party proceeds to a green close by and enjoys a boisterous dance until it is time to go on to the wedding supper. Feasting and merry-making then continue for several hours—in fact, the sleepiness of the guests is the only thing that breaks up the entertainment for the night. Next day the festivities are resumed, and are possibly carried on into a third day. The fiddler is always busy, for without him there can be no real fun, the people’s love of music being no less than their love of dancing. The violin is the one instrument which they know and understand, and it has been in use among the Norwegians for hundreds of years. Their most famous violin-player, Ole Bull, who died some few years ago, was looked on as a great composer and musician. But all over the country there are to be found men who can play after a fashion; and a century or so ago, when the people were still very superstitious, they fully believed that anyone who could play at all well had had intercourse with the fairies, who were supposed to be marvellous musicians and acquainted with an immense variety of [Contents] [21] [22] [23]