Morning journal and courier., 1892-11-12

| traoe tney WorR the harder the next. A
| thus keep from starvation, which is NOR
than many who are not heathens can do i
| London; and some even get through th
hard, wet. foggy, sleety, bone-wrineip
winter with their lives and few shilling
| to the good.
A few who huddle in these congeste
districts have the regulation coster cal
and the helpful donkey, and most curiou
quarters are often found for both gipsie
| and donkey. Lsst winter, while hauntin
| this bit of darkest London, l got on yer
good terms with gipsy family who ha
lost their donkey cart, and nearly thei
donkey, through fateful collision with
Hammersmith bus. 1t was early in tn
winter and the loss pretty nearly mean
starvation. There are scores of dealers Il
costers' carts and barrows in Londol
where a cart or barrow can be hired
though at ruinous rates, or purchased OF
weekly payments. At one of these mad
first payment of ten shillings ON a don
key cart in behalf of the gypsy family, be
came surety for the remainder, and the in
cident furnished to me thereafter open se
same to the innermost recesses of Lesthe
Lane.
1t was in one of the innermost recesse
that my gypsy friends had their hsbitstion
and 1t is certain that a no more curiou
dwelling place and disposition of home be
longings were ever seen. About half wa,
from Furnivsls Inn to Theobold's Row
narrow, dingy court, above which a striy
of sky could barely be seen, wriggled al
hundred feet or more to the east. To tn,
right and left the rsmshsckle yet stout ole
house fronts seemed pitching at each Other
threstenipgly. From the noisome pave
ment to the strip of sky it seemed a.
though hundreds of humans were CON
stantly in a state of e1istsnee on trem
bling balconies 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 sudden stop against 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 enclosure. Here at the end of
this court against the dead wall my gypsy
friends had practically encsmped by a sys-
tenn of more than partial suspension.
Some twenty-fiv feet from the ground a
msss of patched bits of sail cloth and
blankets formed the only roof. Ingenious
ly brsced bits of wood-ho.ssma and jetsam
from the markets and the Thames-made
three intervening stories, or floors, be-
tween the Tapping roof and the pavement
of the court, all of which were open to the
weather and Leather Lane way, save where
rags and other seive like blankets and sail
cloth answered the place of curtaining.
These stories or floors were about SIX
feet square, except the lower or pavement
story, which was as long rs the prowess of
the gipsies could make 1t against the hordes
of the sitting court An aperture had
haan ID ~, he snh
few brick and little mud mortar, provi-
ded capital chimney piece. The draught
was perfect. There was good deal of
comfort, too. about this sextrsordinary FIRE
eide. The cart was "whortled." that Is,
turned bottomside upwards for a table. A
shelf-like piece of timber had been fast
ened 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
gypsy family itself. Immediately on arri-
val the donkey was hauled up by rops and
tackle into little csge which constituted
the third story under the ssil cloth roof.
Such vegetables as were left that the fam
lily did not use were stored on q shelf
alongside the donkey; and on retiring for
the night the family, comprising eleven
grown people and children, assembled into
the second story loft, snd, in a manner,
ished all movable belongings up after
them.
"Yes," admiringly said old man Lowell,
the head of this gipsy house, after hsd
just witnessed the sprswling donkey hoist
ed into his cage for his rest and provender,
Illus jess hall goes hup inter hour ole by
night, an pulls the 'ole hup arter husl'
The East Eod district locally called 1.-The
Mint" where London's ancient mint was
located, is another favorite haunt of gip-
sizes in winter. From Lsnt street in the
borough TO Blackfriar's road are more than
one hundred almost impenetrsble lanes
and closes. This region was the former
haunt and home of Jack Sheppard and
Jonathan Wild, and from the same locsli-
ty have sprung many of the noted prize
fighters of our time. Billingsgate porters,
the most jaunty and rollicking of all Lon
don costermoDgers, and clsss of gipsies
who are noted for their fstic prowess, are
the sole inhabitants. Into this savory re-
gion one must come well introduced; but
when once Npown ss true friend of any
inhabitant, ogress through the quarter
is attended often with even embarrassing
greetings and familiarities
found the gipsies of this locality, who
number perhaps fifty families, which
means fully five hundred souls, chiefly
those who ply their various yocstions at
country fairs and all huge gatherings, such
as the Derby, and London holiday "out-
ings" 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 repre-
sent the fakirs of our American country
fairs, our circus followers and the brswl-
ing nickel-winners of such summer and
seaside resorts as Coney Island and Nan
tasket. The "Punch and Judy" shows are
getting into their hands. They are begin
ming to exhibit freaks and control the
merry-go- rounds. All the fruit and nut
stands at fairs are now in their hands: and
the cocoanut (here called "cokernut")
ranges, where a nut can occasionally be
knocked from deceptively built tier at a
penny "a shy" one of the most popular
forms of initiatory gambling sports at all
fairs and outing gatherings in Eoglsnd.
are all owned by these cunning gipsies.
Their fists are as ready as their tongues,
and their women folk are the most brazen-
ly insistive and picturesquely attired for
tune-tellers in all the world.
But the genuine drom rsjshs. or gipsies
of the road, whose vocstions of to-day are
really honorable, thriftfnl and distin-
guished by downright hard work and fair
dealing, though still full of genuine gip-
sy traits and bearing in a mild form the
gypsy tsint of dickering and dukkering
Qortune-telling). are the gipsies who, in
their enforced winter London tarrying,
retain most the manner of the summer
road life. 1 should think there could be
found from ten to twenty thousand OF
-, &Ia -r,u Is
November until March. These are en-
tirely exclusive of several thousand more
who never leave London, but travel In
endless circles about the outer edges oi
the great city, interminsble Bedouins al
all outing gathering; peas and strawber
~ pickers and Lavender gstherers In the
summer, hop-pickers in the autumn, AND
scavengers in general the remainder oi
the year. They camp where they work
and though often reduced to abjec
wretchedness, are a kindly and cheery
eet of men and women.
The road gipsies generally retain ant
occupy their vans, carts aud tents. On
Southwark way, over in Surry, are larg
communities. Many may be found round
about Esher and Woking. The Chelsel
| marshes are another winter haunt; Will,
Epping Forest, depths and edges, are full
of them. With these summer thrift Il
never exchanged for winter idleness
ment in gentlemen's and public stables
The men haunt the horse markets anS
weekly suburban markets and buy, sci
and trade horses and donkeys. Many o
the women rove about the poorer dis
tricts of the city telling fortunes TO
| whatever they can get. Those too old
for these jsunts mind the pots, kettle
and little ones against the wanderers
nightly return. Old men and lads AMI