The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-11-18

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and Eleven: looked about the court as Il
| TO say TO its other inhabitants: Wen
/ soon be going i'm for going out Of here
/ and disappeared blandly behind he door
! of No. :.
Not fifteen minutes later a carriage
halted at the door of No. g.
This time tears of humiliation gathered
! in Aunt Prue's eyes as she stole NOR
! titled glances at the movements in front
! Of our nearest and therefore most OBJ
/ jeCtiOnable neighbors.
/ The bachelor with the olden boyish face.
assisted by his little old lady companion,
| was directly bundled into the vehicle.
/ Sundry tiny tin boxes, a leather case sug-
gestive Of "a microscope, several large
[ books filled with huge blotters and a bun
/ die of curious nets, We're soon bestowed
/ beside him.
The little old lady then came down
! close to the carriage and said feeIingly.
Brother, I know you dislike to leave me
| between these extensively mysterious peo-
pie; but don't mind me. While you're
away, l will see what I can find out Ken
sngton way -
"Or over in quiet old Chelsea. sister.
Anywhere out of sight OF Seven and
Eleven"
Il wish I could, said the little old lady
| sadly.
Pm sure they're both professional peo-
ple-though probably not of much ac-
1cAANs bNA II = AbO Ddil init ltlts lIiS
morning Of all mornings. when you are
just starting out upon your vacation, they
should fiaunt their hansoms and carriages
in our very eyes, Going TO move to
Chelsea, too! Ugh' concluded Aunt
Prue shudder and a sob.
The little old lady of No. 9 looked trium-
phantly into the bow windows of No. and
No II. Her manner indicated that she was
announcing to Three Bachelors Court
how soon she would be quite done with it.
Then she disappeared with a toss of her
head, closing her door with so decided
bang that Aunt Prue gave an unhappy
little start
I was then but a modest London literator
and gypsy traveller; but at once sent our
maid servant into Regent street for the
smartest four-wheeler that could be
found It's driver was to call and wait
until l was ready.
How this lighted up my old aunt's face.
dear soul.
We were a long, long time packing my
little portmanteau. Through numberless
forgivable ruses my aunt got me back
into the house again, and again al the
last moment, bending affectionately over
me in the carriage window and raising her
voice in the most penetrating converse
tionul tone, she Cired out:
I'VE wouldn't remain here another six
months for all of London, would we Rob
ert2'
Not for all Englandn' I promptly an
swered
"Kensington and Chelsea aren't much
better, are they, Roberto"
Il should think not" I insisted con-
temptuously. "Try Grosvenor square or
Victoria Park, Aunt Prue. Either would
be about the thing after-well, after Seven,
Nine and Eleven, Aunt Prue! Good-byr
l shall never forget the look of graft
tude and pride which came into her face,
I Il O.
shut with spiteful click; and | rode all
the way from Euston station to Winder-
mere, thiTd-class, to recOup my vacation
savings for the sad extravaganza of that
carriage in positive thankfulness and
! good cheer for the lightened heart it had
left behind.
All this is neither tragic nor dramatic,
| as becomes a thrilling story; but it has
a direct bearing on how Three Bachelors
Court exchanged its interesting appella-
ton for the still more characterize title
| -Four Gipsies Row"
1t was pleasant reunion that one given
me with gypsy friends from the accident
| of crossing Furness Fells and stumbling
! upon their picturesque camp, at the edge
| of Dalepark, near ancient blo1-5m-hidden
| Ambleside 1t was late in the afternoon,
! and found only the old men and women,
| the sentineling gypsy dogs, the very
! young gypsy ohauvies or children in pos
! session OF the lovely BlGn winch formed
| their temporary home.
| As the shadows heightened the camp
| began to stir. The fires which had smol-
| dered the day through, were renewed by
| the now busting old gypsy women, and
| the pots and kettle sung merrily of good
| things to come. Gypsy men and women
| began coming into camp from all direc-
! tons, and nearly all came singly or in
| groups to the tent l had been given, to
| emphasize my welcome as their "Gorgio
| char (the non-gipsy friend to the gpsy)
! of olden days and ways.
| All, you who hear these words can never
| know the thrill that gladstone welcoming
| term has brought to me in all lands for a
| quarter of a century past!
Georgia chalr'-"Gorgia chair
| Those words of GYPSY trust and endear-
| ment follow me ever out into the outer
/ world of labor, struggle, endeavor. They
| pursue me into the haunts of men wher,
life RACES and activities roar They call
| from striving and winning, from race and
place, almost as the sweetest of all home
| sounds to me. They come across invisi-
BILE hills and meadows when the brain is
tired and the pen is weary.
Georgia chal.'--"Gorgio chal"
These are as the sound of summer mel
odies, of singing birds, Of falling waters
! when one all but faints in the whitening
| city's ways. They call 10 me even IN
dreams. ] would not resist their spell #
| could. For they are my own, these
tawny folk. who press around to thrill MY
heart and mist my eyes with the heartiest
trust sweetest welcomes 1 ever knew IN
| all the wide. wide world
| Everywhere the campside was filled
| with rewak life and activity. Min
gled with the lusty notes of roystering
| gypsy ballads were merry "tally-yo-hosT
rung out on the evening air by returning
horsemen who. with whoop and halloa
dashed through the brush to tether. max.
ing the tree limbs rattle and clatter In
passage, while approving shouts or half
serious yells and obiurgatiOns followe,
with the laughing children and ecstati,
dogs.
Soon came the supper-the really on,
great universal home-moal Of the GYPSY
day. They were "a long time at IL as the,
always are. and as much fun as food wa.
taken. Then, with the CHEEKY campfire,
brightly burning, here and there "a Ian
tern hung from elevated carthiu or sway
ing copsewood branch ana with blaziui
Uressets I'm honor of the stranger. am,
children's game ANA AN manner of camp
/ side ioility. These were followed by sing
ing and dancing of marvellous jigs 8nt
reels, until at last sleep and silence set
tied upon the DaloparlS camp and the on,
ttlt "a 81 d. ..