Morning journal and courier., 1892-11-05
wAKEMAN,s wANDERINGs.

WAKEMANsS WANDERINGS.
The Gipsies of London and Round
About-Pfcture OF tho Annual Re.
turn OF the London Romany Bands
by the Highest Living Authority
Upon Gipsies-Rfse of the English
Gipsy-Gipsy Ever, but sSTraveling
Tradesmen'' Now, Rather Than
Wandering Rogue and Mendicant.
LONDON, Oct. "a.
To the Editor Of the JOURNAL AND COURIER:
To me there Is no one thing more pict-
uresquely suggestive of the dying year
than the scurrying towards winter quar-
ters in any land by innumsrsble bands of
pilgriming folk, my tawny friends, tthe
Ripsies.
With your own fancy's eyes you may
see the farthest southern flights of song
birds which have deserted your lowering
skies for lands of endless summer balms,
and feel its certain premonition of frozen
days to come; or contemplate the myriads
c, 10 - leaves whipped along the ways
and fences by advance picket-lines of win
ter's resistless hosts, and possess all the
tender, mournful musings of the change
full autumn time.
But this Fastening Of whole people
from out the summer-heart of the ooun-
tryside; this reluctant, driven, hurried
human scattering from hedgeside home be-
meath the sun and stars to the miserable
makeshifts of city housing; has in 1t far
more impressive revelation of winters
coming than all the autumn flights of birds
and wind-whipped beatings of bare branch
es and bedraggled brown leaves.
"Hus gifts old, doan't husi"
This from Tinker Zeke, the other morn
ing, where had remained over night with
Q gypsy caravan beside dreary down on
the old stage road to Bath. Bareheaded
and barefooted he had clambered outside
of his tiny roadside habitation to '1ook
DER the day." I could see him through
the frowsy tent-mouth, looking anxiously
for omens In the still half darkened sky,
the crisp wind tossing his grayiug locks
and Tapping 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 trous-
ers pockets, he gave his old body sort of
shuddering rub and twist, and vouchsafed
dejsctedly:
"Hus gifts old, dosn't husi'
CLOVIS that, Zekel' 1 answered merrily
enough, determined to provoke a continu-
alton of his strain of gypsy philosophy If
possible. "Gipsies never get old. And
besides, you're too brave and old, rascal
Zeke, to whimper about getting on in years
a little"
"Hi tells my hus all gifts oldl" This ve-
hemently. "Hi never quits the country
'thout mindin' me O. hit. Hits like mouli-
an dying, leastwise fur me to jaw vree
the drom Ito leave the road.) Cans
sturdie (the towns prison)"
Here was genuine exhibition of gypsy
sentiment. Zeke pumped himself down
alongside the mouldering campfire, with
his elbow upon his knees and his fine old
head in his hands, and apparently gave
way to the most gloomy reflections.
Catching a gipsy off his guard is not
common thing and 1 felt like prodding
him little.
"Turn gorgio (non gipsy then, Zske;
enjoy every day of life with happy per-
church like white man; and finally get
to heaven where there won't be any rough
gypsy winters"
He looked at me FIRST in blank amaze
ment. A fine scorn came into his swsrthy
facs. Then in tone of mingled reproof,
disbelief and almost pathetic longing, he
said with ridiculous solemnity: "Aye, m
HID turn gorgio, nor even kair rsjah
(town or false gypsy, the most contsmpti-
BILE of all beings in the estimation of road
gipsies) fur that-made surel"
All, honest Zekel and who would noti
Here were perhaps two score vsns, with
all their ramshackle belongings, their po-
nies, asses and dogs, their crockery, cocoa
nuts and oilcloths, their skewers, pegs,
rush baskets, dried flowers and leaves,
and their far more odd and interesting
owners. Some of the wanderers had
come from as far north as Beauty in Scot
land, from away up in classic Wordsworth
land by the quiet English lakes. from off
southwest by the shore hooks of Somerset
and Devonslfire, and even from ST. Ives
and Penzauce in Cornwall, but most, from
dickering aud dukkering in the midland
and western counties fairs. AS if by
some secret understanding they had drift
ed together for bit of roadside reunion
| at the edge of these windswept moors,
where few Of the oonstabulsry come with
| their remorseless summons of "Move on,
| you gipsy dogsl' Returning to the great
| city from country tramp in Buckingham
shire, by right of rank and station as gor-
sio ohal (gipsy's friend), I had become one
| of them in the little roistering, before
their final abandonment of the seasons q
| wanderipgs by blossoming lane and road.
Camp was to be broken this very morn
ing. The dark places of London would
close upon the tswny crew, scattered in
little groups and families, by night. 1t
was absolutely certain they would never
all meet again, even though separate fami-
lies or bands should again know the
boundless Joy of the springtime outgoing.
And there is large and ample human re-
gard, one for another, in this community
of roadside interest and companionship,
which we of the civilized" thought and
| ways can never know.
Tinker Zeke WAS not alone in his mourn
full regret. The camp was rife with it,
Just as the landscape, sky and air were
instinct with the tender sadness of the dy-
ing year. 1t seemed to me, nor was it all
of seeming, that the fires themselves
burned with less crackle and fame. Even
the sizzling pots, hanging from the grimy
kettle-sticks, boiled and blubbered in mi
nor hesrthside tones.
| Over in the stunted copses of the moor
| tue tetnered donkeys STOOD meekly silent,
with bowed heads, or nibbled at the frosty
grass as if in serious rumination. As the
morning advanced goodwives sat by the
tent-mouths, or in the open van doors, in
sober discussion with their husbands, OF
busted themselves with the morning meai
less spry and chipper than is the gypsy
woman's way. Youths bringing water
from the stream, or returning to camp
with fodder for the animals and dead mool
brushwood for the fires, did their worh
gloomily, and with none of the summer
time whoop and halloo. Here and there
were groups of the elder gypsy men. seated
on reversed buckets, vau-thills, or leaning
their backs against van-wheels, smoking