I was surprised, at approaching the water, to find a little cluster
of houses pleasantly situated, and an excellent inn. I could have
wished to have remained there all night; but as the wind was fair,
and the evening fine, I was afraid to trust to the wind - the
uncertain wind of to-morrow. We therefore left Helgeraac
immediately with the declining sun.
Though we were in the open sea, we sailed more amongst the rocks and
islands than in my passage from Stromstad; and they often forced
very picturesque combinations. Few of the high ridges were entirely
bare; the seeds of some pines or firs had been wafted by the winds
or waves, and they stood to brave the elements.
Sitting, then, in a little boat on the ocean, amidst strangers, with
sorrow and care pressing hard on me - buffeting me about from clime
to clime - I felt
"Like the lone shrub at random cast,
That sighs and trembles at each blast!"
On some of the largest rocks there were actually groves, the retreat
of foxes and hares, which, I suppose, had tripped over the ice
during the winter, without thinking to regain the main land before
the thaw.
Several of the islands were inhabited by pilots; and the Norwegian
pilots are allowed to be the best in the world - perfectly acquainted
with their coast, and ever at hand to observe the first signal or
sail. They pay a small tax to the king and to the regulating
officer, and enjoy the fruit of their indefatigable industry.
One of the islands, called Virgin Land, is a flat, with some depth
of earth, extending for half a Norwegian mile, with three farms on
it, tolerably well cultivated.
On some of the bare rocks I saw straggling houses; they rose above
the denomination of huts inhabited by fishermen. My companions
assured me that they were very comfortable dwellings, and that they
have not only the necessaries, but even what might be reckoned the
superfluities of life. It was too late for me to go on shore, if
you will allow me to give that name to shivering rocks, to ascertain
the fact.
But rain coming on, and the night growing dark, the pilot declared
that it would be dangerous for us to attempt to go to the place of
our destination - East Rusoer - a Norwegian mile and a half further;
and we determined to stop for the night at a little haven, some half
dozen houses scattered under the curve of a rock. Though it became
darker and darker, our pilot avoided the blind rocks with great
dexterity.
It was about ten o'clock when we arrived, and the old hostess
quickly prepared me a comfortable bed - a little too soft or so, but
I was weary; and opening the window to admit the sweetest of breezes
to fan me to sleep, I sunk into the most luxurious rest: it was
more than refreshing. The hospitable sprites of the grots surely
hovered round my pillow; and, if I awoke, it was to listen to the
melodious whispering of the wind amongst them, or to feel the mild
breath of morn. Light slumbers produced dreams, where Paradise was
before me. My little cherub was again hiding her face in my bosom.
I heard her sweet cooing beat on my heart from the cliffs, and saw
her tiny footsteps on the sands. New-born hopes seemed, like the
rainbow, to appear in the clouds of sorrow, faint, yet sufficient to
amuse away despair.
Some refreshing but heavy showers have detained us; and here I am
writing quite alone - something more than gay, for which I want a
name.
I could almost fancy myself in Nootka Sound, or on some of the
islands on the north-west coast of America. We entered by a narrow
pass through the rocks, which from this abode appear more romantic
than you can well imagine; and seal-skins hanging at the door to dry
add to the illusion.
It is indeed a corner of the world, but you would be surprised to
see the cleanliness and comfort of the dwelling. The shelves are
not only shining with pewter and queen's ware, but some articles in
silver, more ponderous, it is true, than elegant. The linen is
good, as well as white. All the females spin, and there is a loom
in the kitchen. A sort of individual taste appeared in the
arrangement of the furniture (this is not the place for imitation)
and a kindness in their desire to oblige. How superior to the apish
politeness of the towns! where the people, affecting to be well
bred, fatigue with their endless ceremony.
The mistress is a widow, her daughter is married to a pilot, and has
three cows. They have a little patch of land at about the distance
of two English miles, where they make hay for the winter, which they
bring home in a boat. They live here very cheap, getting money from
the vessels which stress of weather, or other causes, bring into
their harbour. I suspect, by their furniture, that they smuggle a
little. I can now credit the account of the other houses, which I
last night thought exaggerated.
I have been conversing with one of my companions respecting the laws
and regulations of Norway. He is a man within great portion of
common sense and heart - yes, a warm heart. This is not the first
time I have remarked heart without sentiment; they are distinct.
The former depends on the rectitude of the feelings, on truth of
sympathy; these characters have more tenderness than passion; the
latter has a higher source - call it imagination, genius, or what you
will, it is something very different.
