San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-12-29
THE GIPSY'S DEBT.

"a poet is born, not made"-so some
illustrious individual said; and no one
has ventured to contradict him. | am
not an illustrious person by any means
have no ambition that way-but l do
hope that, whatever people may think,
none will be rude enough to contradict
me when | say, Nerves are made, not
born" Nature never intended me for
a heroine, or she would have endowed
me with the courage and martial in
stincts l so sorely lack.
/ was never more convinced of this
than when / announced my intention
to walk into WEXFORD "all by myself"
one lovely autumn evening about ten
years ago.
/ was staying at Thorngrove, one of
the prettiest villages in England, and
probably the sleepiest. 1t lies deep
down in a fertile valley, surrounded on
every side by densely-wooded heights
Astounding in game, both furred and
feathered: There is fishing there, too,
of the best; the bright little river that
vends its wav IN the sea thrnnph hram-
sympathies; but he had a craze-one
could call it nothing else. He was very
proud OF his gypsy blood-the little that
had come to his share through many
generations-which principally showed
itself in a somewhat peculiar form-a
determination to prove that it was not
Welsh or Gaelic, but Gypsy that was
spoken in the home of our first parents,
the Garden of Eden. To that end he
gave all his time and substance, with
what success will new be known, be-
cause, before the labors of his life were
completed, his pen was laid aside for
ever.
AS my father had no son, the title and
estates ven to his brother Gylbart,
who was ever a kind friend to me. and
did his best to supply the place of him
i had lost. He gave me a daughters
welcome to hearth and home, and, when
Jack came home from sea and the
foolish boy fell in love with me, he
gathered me in his arms and blessed US
both after the good old-fashioned style,
and it was settled that we were to be
married in the following spring, when
Jack would be home on leave.
/ was thinking of all this as l tramped
on my way to WEXFORD. The walk was
all very well at first-there were a few
farms n several struggling cottages
dotted about-but, when 1 passed the
last farm,I knew hat a long four miles
lay between it and my destination. 1
began to realise three ~things-first, that
the distance between WEXFORD and
Thorngrove varies considerably-it was
much greater walking than riding be-
hind the fast bay cob from the Abbey
Farm; second, that it was much later
than l had thought, that the evening
was closing in rapidly, that it would
soon be dark; third, and most important
of all, that l was afraid.
When the moon appeared all of a sud-
den, l was more frightened still. 1t
shone in a fitful half-hearted fashion
through little riffs in a dense black
cloud. In the uncertain light the trees
and hedges assumed strange uncanny
forms, and many a weird shadow was
cast upon the ground.
Still l went on, and presently came
to the top of a hill. At the foot lay a
small dingle, a dry cosy nook between
the hills. and l could see by many signs
that some people had camped there for
the night. Involuntarily I paused, and
strained my eyes and ears to ascertain
who and what they were. / was not
long in doubt. The light breeze bore
TO me a word or two which would have
been barbarous and without meaning
to manys-.but. which were familiar