Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1892-11-10

of the dying year than the scurrying
towards winter quarters in any land BY
innumerable bands of pilgriming folk,
my tawny friends, the Gypsies.
With your own fancy's eyes you may
see the farthest southern flights of song
birds which have deserted your lower
ing skies for lands of endless summer
balms, and feel its certain premonition
of frozen days to come; or contemplate
the myriads of brown leaves whipped
along the ways and fences by advance
picket-lines of winters resistless hosts,
and possess all the tender, mournful
musings of the changeful autumn time,
But this Fastening of whole people
from out the summer-heart of the coun-
tryside; this reluctant, driven, hurried
human scattering from hedgeside home
beneath the sun and stars to the misera-
BILE makeshifts of city housing; has in
it far more impressive revelation of win
ter's coming than all the autumn flights
of birds and wind whipped beatings of
bare branches and bedraggled brown
leaves.
Illus gifts old, doa'nt hus? p"
This from tinker Zeke, the other
morning where l had remai,ed over
night with Gipsy caravan beside a
dreary down on the old stage road to
Bath. Bareheaded and barefooted he
had clambered outside of his tiny road
side habitation to "look DER the day."
could see him through the frowsy tent
mouth, looking anxiously for omens in
the still half darkened sky, the crisp
wind tossing his grazing locks and flap
ping the unbuttoned corners of his
wooden shirt-front across his shaggy
breast. He looked again and again at
the sky, and over to the saffron tinted
east. Then, with both hands deep in his
trousers pockets, he gave his old body a
sort of shuddering rub and twist and
vouchsafed dejectedly:
Illus gifts old, doa'nt hus?"
slows that, ZekeY l answered mer-
rily enough, determined to provoke a
continuation of his strain of gypsy phi
losophy if possible. "Gypsies never get
old. And, besides, you're too brave an
old rascal, zeke, to whimper about get.
ting on in years little"
"Hi tells ye, hus all gifts old" This
yehemently. "Hi never quits the coun.
try 'thout mindin' me o hit. Hits like
,oulian dying, leastwise fur me to
Jaw vree the drom ito leave the road).
aan's sturdie (the towns a prison)w
Here was a genuine exhibition Of
gypsy sentiment. Zeke pumped him
ielt down alongside the Wondering
campfire, with his elbows upon his
6nees and his fine old head in his hands
and apparently gave way to the most
gloomy reflections. Catching u Gypsy
off his guard is not common thing
and felt like prodding him little.
Turn Gorglo (non gypsy then, Zeke;
enjoy every day of life with a happy
permanent home over your head; go To
church like white man; and finally get
to heaven where there wont be any
rough Gypsy winters"
He looked at me first in blank amaze
ment. A fine scorn came into his
swarthy face. Then in a tone of min.
gled reproof, disbelief and almost
pathetic longing, he said with ridiculous
solemnity: AYE, m Hid turn Gorgio
nor even kair rajah Gown or false Gypsy
the most contemplate of all beings in
the estimation of road Gypsies) fur a
that-made sure '
Alb, honest Zeke and who would not
Here were perhaps two score vans
with all their ramshacke belongings
their ponies, asses and dogs, their crock
cry, cocodnuts and oilcloths, theil
skewers, pegs, rush baskets, dried flow
ers and leaves, and their far more ode
and interesting owners. Some of thu
wanderers had come from as far nortl
as Beauty in Scotland, from away up in
classic Wordsworth land by the quie
English lakes, from off south west BY
the shore hooks of Somerset and Devon
shire, and even from st. Ives and Pen
zaAce in Cornwall, but most from dick
eriug and dukkering in the midland ant
western counties fairs. As if by som,
secret understanding they had drifteC
together for bit of roadside reunion a
the edge of these windswept moors
where few of the constabulary COM
with their remorseless summons o
.'move on, you GYPSY dogsp Return
ing to the great city from countr,
tramp in Buckinghamshire, by RICH
of rank and station as Gorgio Cha
(Gypsy's friend), had become one o
them in the little FOSTERING, before thei
final abandonment of the seasons wan
behring's by blossoming lane aud road.
Camp was to be broken this yer
morning. The dark places of Londo
would close upon the tawny crew, seal
tered in little groups and families, b
night. 1t was absolutely certain the
would never all meet again, even thong
separate families or bands should agai
know the boundless joy of the spring
time outgoing And there is larg
and ample human regard, one fo
another, in this community of roadsid
interest and companionship, which W
of the civilized thought and ways ca
never know.
Tinker Zeke was not alone in hi
mournful regret. The camp was rii
with it, Just as the landscape, sky an
air were instinct with the tender sac
ness OF the dying year. 1t seemed to Mi
nor was it all of seeming, that the ire
themselves burned with less crackle an
flame. Even the sizzling pots, hangin
from the grimy kettle-sticks, boiled an
blubbered in minor hearthside tones.
Over in the stunted copses of tn
moor the tethered donkeys stood meekl
silent, with bowed heads, or nibbed /
the frosty grass as if in serious rum
nation. As the morning advanced goo
wives sat by the tent-mouths, or in tn
open van doors, in sober discussion wit
their husbands, or busted themselyt
with the morning meal less spry an
clipper than is the Gypsy woman
way. Youths bringing water from IL
stream, or returning TO camp with fox
der for the animals and dead moo
brushwood for the fires, did their woI
Kloomily, and with none of the summe
Nme whoop and halloo Here and the
II were groups of the elder Gypsy mel
seated on reversed buckets, yan-thill
OF leaning their beSks against val
wheels, smoking their pipes with lon
strong, interpretive pulls, and saYir