Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1894-02-08


On the drom!
Or
The night ha' come, tho stars are out,
The camp-fres twinkle T. IT, hedge;
Buteure MS I'm Gipgy lout
II hobbies sne TX this camp about,
The stones will rattle from the ledge,
An heads will break, my word pledge
My word pledge, my word PLEDGE!
or again that roaring gypsy tinker's
song
wotk in brass and decker, too,
With canny yak (eye) and Lusy vastic (handl;
'Chor. Chor" (tnieD they cry, and strike
me, too;
But when the rat might murks DER the blu,
I'll have a caunie (ben), maybe, two,
For halt a dozen hungry hauvns tchildren);
An then the tent an my own raunie (wifell-
while belated Dutch farmers drowsily
returning to the,outlylng farms, startled
at the unseemly clamor and recalling
the olden hobgoblin reyelries of tho
| Wissahickon glen, would lash their
stocky horses into anbling speed until
| their upland homes were safely gained.
AS the winter closed in upon the city
and region roundabout, Bahia Sy'ra's
quest began to wane from her darken-
| ing mind and lessening powers. Days
would elapse without Bahia and Boze
being seen at the market; and even
when they came, the woman noticed
that old Syria seldom spoke. Then
they would settle her down in q corner
where the biting wind could not reach
| her; gather sacks and horse rugs about
her; sell the trifles which she brought;
and as the hustle of the day was done,
| press the little money they had gained
into her withered hand and. start her
| homeward with sharp orders to Boze to
mind his mistress closely; the while
purring pleadings to the wrecked old
| life to bide at home until the summer
came and with it, they would kindly
whisper in her eager ear, Grlselda and
| the flowers.
One bitter November evening found
the two old pilgrims, while on their
homeward way from the market, stand
ing gazing into the window of base.
ment cottage, whose little brass door
plate bore the legend "City Missionary"
alongside tumble-down, desoiate mis-
sion chapel in the Oldest quarter of the
city. A comfortable looking man sat in
side OF the cottage window munching an
apple and contentedly humming psalm.
| Accustomed as he was to contact with
every pitiable form and expression of
! AOilOlh huluuh lllSl IllC intGnoily VI LuG
| old woman's gaze disturbed him. He
stepped to the door and asked her kindly
enough, but in that perfunctory way
long association with the lowly often
| gives,
swell, mother, what's wantin'?"
81 jess wants Griselda." ..
The missionary put his head inside
the door and carried on brief con-
versation with querulous tired voice;
perhaps the voice Of wife who longed
more for peaceful home on earth than
the promise Of palm shaded palaces be-
you'd the horizon of human needs.
"Neyer but one Griselda known about
here" he at last answered. "Better run
home, mother. Shouldn't be out. Bad
night coming on, sure. Our Griselda
was on the books long time ago. Died
nigh 90 years since. Lovely death!
Leaned ON the strong Arm to the last.
Hope you lean on the strong Arm, too,
mother2 But our Griselda was white;"
he concluded shiveringly, getting inside
the door, and glancing at the wrinkled,
tawny face above him. Couldn't been
yours. Run along home, now; there's
good woman. Good night"
He could not have seen the tottering
human clutch at the area railing for
support, nor have heard the dogs dis
| consulate whine, or he would not have
so soon resumed his apple and his
psalm; but the lights that were begin
ming to twinkle in rows upon the city
streets whirled round and round her
as she staggered away, moaning and
muttcring:
mo, NO, no tho one as died wus
white; was Gorgio, Boze! Couldn't u
been our Griselda, Boze; couldn't been
ours; no, no, mol"
So she muttered on while Boze COM
| forted as best he could, as they trudged
and tottered out past the darkening
| places of trade; out past the Frightening
regions of home; out along the wide,
white countryward road, now whittier
still for the gently falling snow.
They could almost see the light Ephe
| always placed in their window against
their coming when they had reached the
| great cemetery along the Schuylkill, on
the city side of the Wissahickon. Its
iron gates had been heedlessly left ajar.
Clutching one with either skinny hand,
Baba SYRIA peered within. Her gypsy
nature, ever abhorrent of the place Of
| graves, must surely have met with some
| marvellous TRANSFORMATION now. BoZo
tugged at her gown and whined
| piteously for her to come away; but
Baba syria only leaned forward and
| forward gazing into the white, husbed
forest Of headstones unhecdingly.
Wondrous the life mystery that
ever calls us to our own! Won.
drous and inscrutable that higher
mystery which in an instant makes clear
and true and shining as the sun the open
portals to the Light ineffable! Won
| drous still the calm, the rest, the gentle
nature-call which lured this broken life
from the highway among the white and
peaceful gravel
For suddenly with a cry of unutter-
able delight Bahia Sy'ra's quest took
heart again. Springing within the en-
closure at bound, her skirts dragging
after her the faithful dog, the old woman
closed the gates as if with the joyous
strength of youth; and as the clang of
the iron shut behind the brave old gipsy
mother.heart the dolor of her life, she
turned with the face of radiant pilgrim
! come again to old home scenes, TO fields