The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1894-02-11

IIln IDuuf lifE Wn"EHfg
and Cages which she sold. Bob vron.ts
at his rude forge quaint %trinkcts. loo
Chief Zcph. wno was skilled in Mood
rraft. Iured wild song-birds from the We
sahickon glen 10 her htue cages. while
all the women OF the camp gathered and
tied the punches OF cfess, tansy, mini
spearmint. and sourgTass. winch not only
made her welcome at the market-nlacc
but gave this hungering life kindly ex.
cuse for wandering from door to door
whore her dim old eyes scanned every
likely lass in Almost savage eagerness.
Even as the winter came, the bands an
nual pilgrimage in SUMMER lands was
| abandoned. They became the, "a the ,rro
Gipsies OF the tent and the road. con-
temptible kair rajahs, 'house lords" or
/ dwellers In habitations, alongside P,ba
! Sy'ra's cottage. When the long evenincs
came they gathered. as many as coptd
in her little room. cheering her hours win
tales Of the road. Of Gypsy adventure
and in believing olden Gypsy ballads. like
Jaw the drom take the road Gipgv
friend:
Jaw the Grom.
May good hours with thee attend
Jaw the Grom,
On the moor among the heather.
In the hedge, a. snug together.
In the tents wi a a-tether.
Come each day but sunny weather,
On the drom,
or
The night ha' come. the stars arc ont,
The camp-flres twinkle i tn hedge,
But sure as I'm n Gypsy Tout,
If boobies sneak this camp about.
The stones will rattle from the ledge.
An heads will break. my word pledge
Ny word I pledge. my word l pledge.
or again that roaring Gypsy tinkcrs
-song-
I work IN brass and dicker. too.
with canny yak (eye) and busy vastle
hand);
"Chor, Choir dhieO they cry, and
strike me, too;
But when the rat OighO murks DER the
blue.
I'll have a caunie Chen). maybe. two,
For half a dozen hungry chauvies Chill
dren):
An then the tent an my own raunle
(wifel,-
while belated Dutch farmers drowsily re-
turning TO the outlying farms, startled
at the unseemly clamor and recalling the
olden hobgoblin revelr,es of the Wissa-
hiekon glen. would lash their stocky
horses into ambling speed until their
upland homes were safely gained.
As the winter closed IN upon the city
and region roundabout. Baba Sv'ra's
quest began 10 wane from her darkeaing
min and lessening powers. Days would
eiapse without Raba and Boze being seen
at the market: ard even when they
came. the women noticed that old syria
seldom spoke. Then they would settle
her dow In a corner where the biting
wind could not reach her; gather sacks
and horse-rugs about her, sell the triiles
which she brought. and as the hustle of
the day was done. press the li.tle money
they had gained into her withered hand
and start her h~oueu;trd with sharp
orders to Boze 20 mind his mistress
closely: the while purring ~pleadines to
the wrecked old life 10 bide at home
until the summer came and with il. they
would kindly whisper in her eager ear,
Griselda and tho flowers.
One bitter November evening found
the two old pilgrims. while on their
homeward way from the market. standing
gazing into TIE window Of a basement
cottage. whose little brass doOr-plate
bore the legend, CITY Missionary along
side a tumble-down. desOlate mission
chapel I'm the Oldest quarters OF the city.
a comfortable looking man sat inside of
the cottage window munching an apple
and ccntentediy humming a psalm. Ac-
customed as he was % ontac with
every pitiable form and expression OF
forlorn human lie. the intensity Of the
old woman's gaZe disturbed MIN. lie
stepped to the door and asked her kindly
enough. but in that p%erfunctory way
long association with the lowiy often
gives.
"Weil. mother. whats wantin'?"
II Jess wants GTisold9."
The missionary put bis head inside the
door and carried on a brief conversation
with a quereious, tired voice: perhaps the
voice OF a wife who longed more for a
peaceful home OF earth than the promise
of palm-shaded palaces beyond the hori-
zon Of human needs.
Never but one Griselda known about
here" he at last answered. Better II
home. mother. Shouldn't be out. Bad
coming on. sure. our Griselda was
on the books a long time ago. Died nigh
twenty years since. Lovely death, Lean
ed ON the strong arm to the last. Hope
you lean on the strong arm. too, mother?
But our Griselda was white" he con-
cluded. shiyeringly, getting inside the
door. and glancing AZ the wTiak!ei, tawny
face above him. Couldn't been yours.
Run along home, now; there's a good wo-
man. Good-night."
He could not have seen the lettering
human clutch at the area railing Tor sup
port, nor have heard the dogs disconsO-
late whine. or he would not have so soon
his apple and his psalm: but the
that were beginning 10 twinkle in
ows upon the city streets whirled roun
round her as she staggered away, |
moaning and muttering:
mo, no, nO.-the one as died wus
white; was Gorgio. Boze. Couldn't a been
our Griselda, Boze; couldn't q been ours.
no. no."
SO she muttered on while BOze COM
forted as best he could, as they trudged
and t~ottered out past the darkening places
OF trade; out past the Frightening regions
Of home; out along the wide white coun-
road, now winter still for the
gently falling snow.
They could almost see the light Ephe
placed in their window against
heir coming when they had reached the
,rtat cemetery along the Schuylkill. on
he city side Of the W~issahickon. It's
gates had been heedlessly left ajar.
'1utching one with either skinny hand.
Saba SYRIA peerad Within. Her Gypsy
nature, ever abhorrent Of the place of
graves. must surely have met with some
marvellous transformation now. Boze tug
scd at her gown and Whined plteouslv
va IrI 10 ''Uit AWAY HNl BfIq. syria !
leaned forward and forward. gazing
nto the white, hushed. forest OF head.fones
lnhcedinSiy. Wondr0us the life mystery
-h"t ever calls us 10 our own. Woncr0us
ma lnscrutahle that higher mystery
which IN an instant makes clear and trle
md shining as the sun the OPEN nor;als
o the Light inefable. Wond-ous sin the
aim. the rest. the gentle nature-call
which lured this broker life from the
amonS the white and peaceful
FOR suddenly with q cry Of unutterable
lellght Baba Sy'ra's quest tnok hnarf