Los Angeles herald., 1892-11-12

ply OF material from their summer
wanderings, and which are sold to the
lowly for mantel ornaments, or whittle
out skewers for meat stalls All do
something and earn something. If
there is a loss in one days trade, they
work the harder the next. All thus
keep from starvation, which is more
than many who are not heathens. can
do in London; and some even get
bone-wringing winter with their lives
and few shillings to the good.
A few who huddle in these congested
districts have the regulation coster
cart and the helpful donkey, and the
most curious quarters are often found
for both Gipsies and donkey Last
winter, while haunting this bit of dark
est London L got on very good terms
with a Gipsy family who had lost their
donkey cart, and nearly their donkey,
through fateful collision with d Ham
mersmith bus. 1t was early in the
winter and the loss pretty nearly meant
starvation. There are scores of dealers
in costers' carts and barrows in Lon
don where cart or barrow can be
hired, though at ruinous rates, or pur-
chased on weekly payments. At one
of these l made first payment of ten
shillihgs on a donkey cart in behalf of
the Gipsy family, became surety for
the remainder, and the incident fur
nished to me thereafter open sesame to
the innermost recesses of Leather
Lane.
1t was in one of these innermost
recesses that my Gipsy friends had
their habitation, and it is certain that
a no more curious dwelling place and
disposition of home belongings we're
ever seen. About half way from Fur
nivaps Inn to Theobold's Row a mar
row, dingy court, above which a strip
of sky could barely be seen, wriggled
an hundred feet or more to the east
To the right and left the ramshackle
yet stout old house fronts seemed
pitching at each other threateningly.
From the noisome pavement to the
strip of sky it seemed as though hun
dreds of humans we're constantly in a
state of existence on trembling bal
comics and tottering window-sills The
density of half fed life behind these
raven-like beings clinging to the outer
walls must have been terrible.
The dark court narrowed at the end
coming to a sudden stop against a
black dead wall, which rose thirty or
forty feet above the pavement as if to
shut out the desperate poverty of
Leather Lane from some better en-
closure. Here at the end of this court
against the dead wall my Gypsy
friends had practically encamped by
system of more than partial suspen-
sion. Some twenty-five feet from the
ground a mass of patched bits of sail
cloth and blankets formed the only
roof. Ingeniously braced bits of
wood-hotsam and jetsam from the
markets and the Thames-made three
intervening stories, or floors, between
the Tapping roof and the pavement of
the court, all of which we're open to the
weather and Leather Lane way, save
where rags and other seive-like blan-
kets and sail cloth answered the place
of curtains.
r These stories or floors were about
six feet square, except the lower or
pavement story which was as long as
the prowess of the Gipsies could make
it against the hordes of the sitting
court. An ap erture had been made in
the dead wall which, with a few brick
and little mud mortar. provided a
capital chimney piece. The draught
was perfect. There was good deal of
SOiht COO, etOOuU OulS
fireside. The cart was "whortled," that
is, turned bottomside upwards for
table. A shelflike piece of timber had
been fastened against one side wall for
lounging bunk and bench. A ladder
ran from this along the wall to the
second story where cooking utensils
and food were kept.
But the most curious of all was the
nightly disposition of donkey. what
was left over from the days hawking
and the Gipsy family. Immediately on
arrival, the donkey was hauled up by
rope and tackle into little cage, which
constituted the third story under the
sail-cloth roof. Such vegetables as
were left that the family did not use
were stored on a shelf alongside the
donkey; and on retiring for the night
the family, comprising eleven grown
people and children, assembled into the
second story loft, and in manner,
fished all movable belongings up after
them.
"Yes," admiringly said old man Low
ell, the head of this Gipsey house, after
1 had just witnessed the sprawling
donkey hoisted into his cage for rest
and provender, Illus jess hall goes hup
inter hour 'ole by night, an pulls the
'ole in arter hus!'
The east end district, locally called
"The Mint" where London's ancient
mint was located, is another favorite
haunt of Gipsies in winter. From Liant
street in the Borough to Blackfriar's
Road are more than 100 almost i'm
penetrable lanes and closes. This re-
gion was the former haunt and home
of Jack Sheppard and Jonathan
Wild, and From the same To-
colity have sprung many of the
noted prize-fiehters of our time. Bill
ingsgate porters, the most jaunty and
rollicking of all London costermon-
gers, and class of Gipsies who are
noted for their fistic prowess, are the
sole inhabitants. Into this savory re-
gion one must come we'll introduced;
but when once known as true friend
of any inhabitant, progress through
the quarter is attended often with even
embarrassing greetings and familiari-
ties.
found the Gipsies of this locality,
who number, perhaps, fifty families,
which means fully 500 souls, chiefly
those who ply their various vocations
at country fairs and all huge gather
ings, such as the Derby and London
holiday "outings" at Epping Forest
and the like. They are portion of
that vast horde of least winsome but
most picturesque English Gipsies who,
casually seen, nearest represent the
g., of o,,, A ynariaon onunfrv fairo