Читать книгу "Gamle Norge": Rambles and Scrambles in Norway онлайн

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No. 2 was Tentmaster-general, and a sportsman to the core. Reindeer, salmon, and Gamle Norge—these he had chronically on the brain, mixed up with a great love of old tankards and a yearning for silver belts and gammelt sölv. Once in his Norfolk jacket and knickers, pua de höie fjelde, how happy was he! rejoicing in the friske luft, mountain air, and snow peaks (snebræer), ready for any amount of fatigue, and always willing to cook first and eat afterwards. A rare good man was the Tentmaster.

Hitterdal Church: Sunday Morning.

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No. 3 was generally known as “the Locust,” from his constant appetite for all kinds of food, and general thirst for knowledge about everything connected with Norway. Note-book in hand, he was ever jotting down everything, even to catching mosquitoes between the leaves of it, so as to bring home the real thing. Still No. 3 had an important duty to perform. As the travellers were three, he was allowed the casting vote—a most wholesome arrangement, as he was a married man, and consequently likely to be useful in some weighty matters. Happily, to the credit of No. 1 and No. 2, the exercise of No. 3’s prerogative was never called for, and by the end of the trip was looked on as a sinecure. Still he always travelled ready to apply “a touch of the oil feather”—one of the best companions a traveller can have ready to hand. May many such trios have a trip of such great yet simple enjoyment, such health, and such pleasing diversion of thought! It is a joy to fall back upon throughout life, and the longer the life the greater the relish of recollection.