The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1851-10-16

!
bright yellow wound round her head Had
Rembrandt still lived in the Netherlands, l know
not where he could have found more lustrous
| eyes or a more genial subject. She seemed to
| be waiting for somebody, and leaned for long
/ time at the door, looking down the road. We
approached nearer an found that she was con-
versing with some one within. TIE language
was strange; it was neither Dutch nor German ;
pat, rsJTIcd U1fe UT the
most musical voices that ever reached my ear !.
''What barbarous language" said l, when
the Rembrandt asked the first question. ''But
what musical oneH' answered my friend when
/ the youthful voice replied to it from within.
! Harmonious, indeed, was the voice. There was
no bird in all the garden OF Loo nor fountain
under the royal balcony, that could yield Il tone
so melodious! 1 could have wished that the
voice should never cease. We sat down near by
and listened. The fine old face that looked out
on from the little door, expressed no emotion
with which We could in any way be connected; ;
she looked at US and talked on, quite Indifferent
whether we listened or not She had been wan
dering about the world too many years to be af-
fected by the idle curiosity Of two commonplace
;
coats and foraging caps.
! At intervals the musical voice broke in upon
the stern tone Of the old woman, and it was
/ evident the gypsy had started a subject which
| interested both in no common degree. Soon
she turned half round, still leaning on the door
with one arm while she gesticulated yehemently
with Jhe other; then left the door and grew very
boiGtero,1s tiII rho rnusicaI yoica suuk haunath
the storm. In moment the door was slammed
back, and We turned away with hearts full Of
| sadness for this charming being We had never
seen. Perhaps the dark old Hecate had a siren
| Gagged up, \ few PAGES from the equipage we
| met boy, evidently gipsy, with the same sun
| burnt brown complexion, the same black eyes
/ that had been looking at US, though brighter,
| quicker, and with all the fire Of youth. He was
| not illdressed; he wore large trousers, jauuty
J green Jacket, with broad low-crowned hat ex-
| actly what the Spaniails call 4 scaIbrero. His
hair was not long, as though worn for effect, but
richly curled; and when he raised the sombrero,
and bade Us good day in German, remembered
portrait Of MuriIlo's for which could have
| convinced myself he had sat. '.You see how
it is, said l; this must be the son of the old
woman. You all her former beauty repro
duced in this fellows beautiful facet" He went
| to the wagon and spoke; in . moment the old
head re-appeared at the door 1t opened and
the youth entered. And was this all This
question l asked myself, and my friend put it
to me. We were both thinking Of the musical
voice; and yet, was it not enough? a rea SON
able man would have been contented with what
| iyr0C I,,t
satiate! We were in love with the musical
voice. 1t must be the voice of the old Gypsy s
daughter, the sister of the handsome youth :
and e she resembled her brother, with all his
fine features softened by the grace and delicacy
Of her sex, what paragon it were to behold
How picturesque would be the group-an old
mother with two such children! She, perhaps.
weary with the endless turmoil of the world,
timorous and uncertain Of its changes; they
almost alone in its length and breadth, cast up
on its surface like waits on the sea- 1t was a
sad thing to think what might become of them,
Of HER; and to hear that sweet voice in sorrow,
to listen to the plants of poor girl, with no
heart in the universe to pity her but her young
feeble brothers, had been intolerable l had
become impatient at the speed of time; it flew
like the falcons, and L would fain have fastened
the jesses and hooded it. The hour, however,
for the sport approached. There was a hustle
among the falconers, and futter among the
the falcons; even heard at the inn the busy
tinkle of their little bells, and saw them nod
ding their red hoods, stepping impatently along
the perches, and spreading their strong wings
in expectation of fight.
The falcOners, who had hung round the whole
morning in the ordinary loose dress of the
Dutch pcasantry, now came out in the gallant
costume of the olden time, which romancers
have long delighted to describe, and the artists
| to portray. They strong set of fellows,
imposing in stature, and energetic in their atti-
| tudes, accustomed all their lives to fly the fall
con to its prey, and mount their horses for the
chase. This inspiriting sport had given free
dom to their carriage, and certain dignity to
their department, which well became the dress
they wore. 1t consisted of top boots, highly
polished, with spurs attached light drab tights,
bright colored waistcoats, and dark green
coat, ornamented with large buttons, embossed
| In forms of animals, or small reliefs represent
ing scenes from the sport. Each had on green
hunting hat, with tuft of heron's plume stuck
jauntily in the band, while long buckskin gaunt-
lets, coming far over the wrists, completed the
gallant equipment The falcons were sent il
n If Inc IL