The Cecil Whig., 1885-12-05

away from their flee mountains, their
plains and woods, the sun, the stars and
the Winds The following is speci-
men of their language in the form of q
short improvised stanza:
Toraquel luchipen aba
| Abilelo un balicLoro
| Abillela goli goll.
Ustilame Galore
There runs a swine down yondcr hill
As fast e'er he can
And as he runs, he crieth s;ill
Come steal me, Gypsy man.
Much as the lives of these peculiar peo-
pie may be clad in romance and poetry
in their native countries, the apparel of
both body and soul which they wore
while in the neighborhood of Elkton was
far from suggestive of anything SO emo
bling. When WING writer peeped into
their camp in the early part of their stay
here and met with several of them on
the streets of the town several days af-
terward he found them very good repre-
sentatives of their race. In camp the
men were a lazy, slovenly and fearfully
dirty and wicked set, while the women
were, as usual, their slaves and servants,
performing all the drudgery Of the camp,
besides caring for the one or more chill
dren, each Of them carried in rude pa
poose on her back. The men were er-
gagged principally in gaming, horse trad
ing and cracking jokes, which brought
forth rude bursts of coarse laughter. In
camp the women were mild and docile,
but when out upon their begging tours
were decidedly impudent and brazen,
often walking directly into houses of
which the doors happened to be open
and demanding food and clothing. They
are evidently creatures with lost souls.
1t seems impossible that any power ex-
cept the Divine mandate of God can ever
reclaim them to decent, moral and truth
full lives. They have not passed beyond
the pale of religion and civilization,
simply because they never were within
it, having been born and nurtured in
lands where the SO called Christian dis
cards his heather brethren and ship
them off to foreign countries as a burden
and care upon their shoulders. There
was beyond doubt much of The crudely
picturesque in the appearance of the
camp in Hollingsworth's woods when
evening drew on and the fires were
lighted before the tents. Men with huge
pipes of quantity carved designs in their
mouths reclined on the ground, with
their backs against logs and posts, while
the women with their curious children
and gay head-gears hummed rude
snatches of their native mountain songs
in accompaniment with the children cry
ing and the mems rude laughter.
Whether their laughter and singing be-
tokened gladness and entert ainment it
would be difficult to decide, but we sup
pose this to them is life with its highe st
aims and ends reached. And this, tCo,
exists to-day in America, in the midst Of
all our civilization and social elevation.
NE " hip Hdl ueCltleu tHab the lien
and women were tough enough to stand
it. But as for the little babes, his heart
was touched, and it was hard to resist
an indignant burst of tears when a sweet
faced little girl whom ITS heartlts SIS
mother had set up against the fence
while she pursued her labors reached out
it's tender, brown lands to him and
plaintiyely cooed: "Me love ON, me hun
gry." Hungry in soul as we'll as body
you will be ere long, dear child, THE
WHIG man thought, as he lifted the little
one from its uncomfortable position and
spoke kind word to it. On Wednesday
last the peculiar tribe left their camp in
the woods and departed for new fields.
The work of civilization in this and other
countries will not be complete until such
as these are reclaimed from their despe-
rate. destitute and pitiful condition. We
imagine they have souls as fit for eter-
nifty as are the souls of the most of us.
and probably by approaching them with
kindness their natures could be softened
and reformed. Many of the children
they carry abont with them in the cruel
papoose are bright and beautiful, and it
is shocking to suppose them ever des-
tined to follow in the footsteps of their
race.