The record-union., 1894-02-03
BABA SY'RA'S QUEST.

TCopyright, 1894. All rights reserved
Just within the western boundaries of
the noble old city of Philadelphia winds
the lovely Wissahickon, fairest and most
enhancing stream yet undefled by man.
Retaining its Indian name of Wisauck-
sickan, or the yellow-coIored stream, it
has its source miles away among the
fertile Dutch meadows and witching hills
OF Bucks and Montgomery Counties. 1t
springs from a region full of quaint su-
perstitions, and every rivulet feeding 1t.
or homestead or hamlet 1t passes, fur
nishes an added fancy, legend or old tale,
until, reaching the gorge through which,
for twelve miles, it winds in fantastic
abandon before emptying into the Schuyl-
kill, it becomes very witch nest OF phan-
tasIn, hobgoblin and myth.
For seven or eight miles above its
mouth the channel is strangely torturous
between banks of rocks of mica schist,
rising in every imaginable fantastic form
to picturesque and noble nights. These
banks are bewilderingly multiform,
clothed in the rarest and most varied
foliage, while ascending and crownlng
the nights on either side are the noblest
OF American forest trees, ranging Slngu-
larly from the magnolia TO the cedar and
the oak, ever set in majestic beauty with
IN the same narrow confines. Scarcely
more than a rivulet as it enters the gorge,
the stream increases in volume from up
land to the last deep pool where the
Schuylkill gulps 1t down at swallow,
and stream and bank, shadow and shine,
rock and forest, water below and sky
above, blend in one matchless and perfect
dream of rest.
There is not a spot upon which you may
stand your feet, place your hand or rest
your eye, which does not throb and pulse
back to your own, instantly recorded
sympathy. The sense OF genial solitude
and OF loving restfulness is almost start
ling. 1t is as a soothing dream set in
a stiffness so calm and hushed that it is
paIpably felt at the very spot where
the entrance to this wonderland shudder-
ingly faces the crowded avenues to the
great city, and shrinks aghast at the
thunderings of the flaming torges along
the SchuyIkill, few rods only will bring
YOU to such solitude that the sound Of
your own voice seems a desecrat1on.
Here reaches a long, lake-l1ke tarn, rip
pleless, dark as ebon, but SHINING like
FURNISHED silver. Beyond, there is wall
of green and bloom. This seems all-all
but silence. Breaking the spell you come
to this wall Of green and bloom TO find an
abrupt winding of the channel, and here,
in a cleaning circle, like the futtering
wings of myriad poising butterflies, the
stream is whisperingly breaking away
from another tarn above, but so softly
that all is silent still.
Then another deep pool on whose surf
ace the overarching trees rim dark shad-
OWs like black onyx frInglng bed OF
sapphire where is mlrrored the blue sky
above. This voiceless spot, mayhap, is
fed by swiftly speeding water, level and
even for little. by thread of trembling
hastings where ali the elfins' songs are
sung, or by a fleecy cascade white and
sDulnV as a shower of -thlStldOwn, but
there is never tumult nor turbulence
here.
Again appears little lake, or wide
swirl of waters where the spirits OF the
stream seem in wild bacchanalian chase
in some cleaning cauldron, but the
mirth, or witcheTy, or sprite madness, is
in a wild turmoil revealed only in a
simmer and CLINT and motion. Lake or
tarn again and again, open and White to
the sky, or folded in gloamlng-hke shad-
ows: century old dam where the moss
is almost blended with the rocks and the
outreaching roots of great trees; rivulets
trickling down from countless springs, or
shadoWy creeks creeping into the greater
stream through legend-haunted gorges;
tiny waterfalls where the sunshine, nit
ering through the branches, darts and
quivers over mottled splashes OF shade;
whirling eddy where leaf of tree or feath-
er of passing bird is dancing lively min
net to ceaselesS rythm of unheard tune;
murmurous shadows in beauteous wind
ings for cleaning distances, but hesltant
and soft as a whispered lullaby rhyme;
deep and dark backwater, where the
rounded rocks point straight to heaven;
stealthy outlets where the waters slnu-
ished bases of great powders, like threads
OF silver. cleaning through some Jagged
armor: covert channels winding through
stolen passages beneath oVerhang1ng
lodges, as if the waters huddled together
for sedition; feathery cascades wnere the
mists of the clouds are again resolved tC
mist and swirl into humid, soundless
tieeciness beloW-each and all, IN al
places, forms, moods, are to this enchant'
ed stream as if the gentle spirit OF the
place. which shall forever soothe ano
solace, must reveal itself to the human
soul alone in endless and unceaslns
expression of unobtruslVe beauty ano
SURPRISING tenderness.
The gypsies, born nature-loYers tha
they are. are ever lowering near. 1t Is
their Already of delight. The camptres
are seldom dim among the little glens
and hollows above the WlsSahlcko1
gorge. the long, bright summer through
farms and their dukkering are close al
hand. and beside them is the melodiouS
stream which, for very love, they have
come to call, in their secret Romany
tongue. "suttur-gillie coro," or the dear
sweet sleep-Song dell.
On a June morning, not many years
ago. the going of Baba Syria from out 8
Nissahickon gypsy camp was so sad 9
thing to these tawny folk of the tent anC
the road that all the place was hushed
and still.
Baba syria was only a feeble old gypsy
woman. so old that her own name OF Sy-
reira Stanley had not been heard in camp
for years; so old that the gypsy word fol
ereat-great aunt, and old, old mother,
baba. had long since obliterated hel
own: so old that Griselda, her only chic
that had lived, was born when Babs
SYRIA was still an aged woman, as gyp
sizes measures age; so old that twenty
years had already gone since Griselda, ;
fnll-orown lass, had left this very camp
srot never to return, and the old souF'
ouest began, and all had called her Bah;
SYRIA" long before.
Rnt the olden mystic fires had burned
with deadly hatred then. Grlseida ha6
forsworu her race. She had come an(
cone between the camp side and the grea
cifv at will. Those who seek the souls o
heathep. if kindred and nelghbors o.
lost. had planted in one gypsy heart In
spiritual seeds Of endless unrest. Urlsei