Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-01-27
A Gypsy BELLE DIES.
A Nomadic Beauty and a Ro-
nance Laid Low in a Tent.
THE TIE RUDELY SEVERED
That Bound a Rcmany Rye to a
Charmer of a Wanderers Camp.
MARRIED UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
An Escape From England and the Strange
Meeting in America.
ASHES TO ASHES WITH UNIQUE RITES

lives of two vagabond Gipsies, whose evel
shifting home for one brief interval rested
near this city; the pathetic conclusion of {
chapter in nomadic life; the joint record o
two lives united to go through this world
hand in hand-a bond rent ssunder by the
hand of death. One volume of the record
was yesterday closed forever; but the page,
of its companion work are yet unwritten, 6
single, touching tale of Gipsy life and
love.
On the side of gully through which 6
little brook runs musingly to a larger
stream a mile away, and thence makes it:
wav into the Ohio river, there rested until
Yesterday morning twin pairs Of tents. Un.
protected by hill or woods they were open
to the winter blasts from the East. The
landscape is dreary and uninviting, seem
ingly most congenial spot for disease and
death to lurk. The monotonous noise
emitted by the escape pipe of steam-engine
in brick-yard short distance away is the
only sound which disturbs the dreary ST.
lenCe. The spot in which
THIS Gypsy CAMP
is located is known as McCastrey's Hollow.
and is near the boundary line of the city in
the West End. To reach it one must wade
through fields of sticky red clay.
A reporter paid visit to the camp yes
terday, to learn the story of the death, in
the morning, of one of its former residents,
Mrs. Annie Stanley.
The camp is at present composed OF one
small wall-tent. The flaps have been re-
moved, and temporary shelter has been
formed in front of the tent by planting a
number of poles in semi-circle and then
bending them over toward the tent and
binding the tops together with willow
wands. This framework is covered with
coarse cotton bsgging. A shed Of logs and
bushes stands at one side and forms shell
ter for horse. A small spring wagon and a
NANCY yellow cur complete the outfit,
As the reporter climbed the hill which
led to the camp, be was greeted by young
lady and a gentleman who had just had
their fortunes told and had evidently been
informed that each of them would pass
through life hand in hand with some con-
genial companion. Each thought the other
at that moment the most capable of fulfill
ing the necessary conditions. Little they
knew of the closing scenes Of q story with a
preface similar to their own.
A little old woman, with a red handker-
chief wrapped about her head and knotted
under the chin, greeted the newspaper man
with the words:
'It's mucky road you've travelled, my
SON."
IN THE TENT OF MOURNING.
The English accent was very pronounced.
An invitation to her tent was accepted.
Bending low, the writer entered through a
narrow arch; but, once within, there was
plenty of room to spare. At one end was a
bed of blankets and straw, from which
came the cries of child but few days old
A boy of u was taking care of little girl
about 2 years old. A stove, a few low
stools and broken chair were all the other
conveniences in the tent Tie atmosphere
was vitiated, and the odor of meals gone by
was too plain to be relished.
The old lady took one child in her arms
and endeavored to hush the complaints of
the other, who finally got in such posi-
tion as to be unnoticed by its nurse. She
troubled her with complaints, at the same
time slyly smiling at the reporter. The old
lady then told the story of the eyoung woman
who had died.
They were English gypsies, and two
brothers and their families had wandered
up and down the roads and lanes of Eng
land for many years. William Stanley had
q son; his brothe, Richard, had daughter
Both were about the same age, and, being
thrown much together in their rovings, the
young folk fell in love with one another.
Each had warm, passionate disposition,
which brooked no interference. Three
years ago last June the two families were
camped in Somersetshire, Englsnd. The
parents of Richard, who was Romany Rye,
and of Annie as well, objected to the pair
marrying so young. She was only 20.
THEY WERE FIRST COUSINS.
Both listened to the words of their
parents, but managed to meet and exchange
vows of constancy and love. One dav the
parents of Richard left for a visit to friends
near Bristol. Now was the time, thought
young Dick, as he was commonly called.
He and Annie hurried to Bridgewater and
were married. Their parents were furious.
The young couple did not return to their
camp, but came to America and commenced
a rowing life.
Annie was a Gipsy beauty, tall and 1.-THE,
with raven hair; her eyes always twinkling
and sparkling, and the roses on her cheeks
never fading until touched by the finger of
death. Her good humor and winning WAYS
had won her host of friends. Dick is
tall, well-formed Gipsy, quite handsome;
and be loved bis pretty young wife better
than he loved his life.
Dicks father and mother and one child
left for America as soon as they learned
where their son had gone. On reaching the
States all trace oftheir boy and his bonny
bride was lost. True to their habits, they
commenced to roam through the country.
Four months passed, and yet no tidings of
the son.
The parents started on a circuit in a d.
rection opposite TO that the boy had taken,
One day, while driving along a country
road in the South, near Charleston, the two
companies met each other. Since that time.
for three years, they have travelled together.
A child was born to Dick and Annie two
years ago.
The party of nomads came to this city last
December. Annie had been i'll with the
fever. Here friends were to have met here
at Christmas time, but they never came,
and, since that time until her death, she
had bemoaned their tardiness.
DEATH BIDS LIFE WELCOME.
Last Friday evening a second child was
born to Mrs. Stanley, little girl. She be-
came violently i'll shortly afterward, and |
sank rapidly during the week During all |
to days and nights of pain endured she |
kept continually calling for Dick" her |
husband. Once she expressed the wish that |
her child be called after her mother, whose |
name is Fannie.
A few kind neighbors from adjacent |
houses relieved the poor wanderer as much |
as possible in her last hours on this earth. |
Shortly before o'clock yesterday morning