The record-union., 1894-06-23
PILGRIMS.

copyright, 1894, by Edgar /. Wakeman. AL
rights reserved.
On q recent May morning, not many
years ago, under great patriarchal trees
bordering the River Wharfe, which winds
through the Yorkshire wales like gleam-
ing, sinuous ribbon of silver, not further
than a strong mans voice could reach
from the quaint old hamlet of Ilkley, was
a band of Yorkshire gypsies who were
soon to break camp and set sail Tor
America, the gypsy haven beyond the
sea.
Two hearts in this Wharfe-side camp
were well-nigh broken.
One was Matthew's.
Matthew was gypsy lad. orphaned
and poor; poverty stricken nawken or
tinker; poor tinker, too, and desplsed,
for he was a reader OF Gorgio books and
dared to grope on blindly for learning
and light, had shown signs OF rhymes
besides, and had therefore become an
outcast with this people.
How great an outcast, when an outcast
of outcasts!
with single soul in Yorkshire.
Loretta loved him; loved him for these
despised things in him, which, to Just
this one human being, deified him.
Loretta was the pet OF the Y Yorkshire
tribes. She was but dainty mite OF
a thing vet, but so full of jest and wit and
merriment, that her presence had come
into a thousand peasant lives ana IeIt
there an ideal dream.
How many had already come wooing
none knew. The sprite had sent them
all away, no longer her lovers-slmply
her valiant knights of honor, and each
factory or hamlet for score OF miles
around held a discarded lover, puG al
ways housed friend.
Well was Loretta guarded by keen
eyes and strong arms, but she was a
gypsy lass that could out-gypsy them
all.
Loretta, oh, Loretta!"
In the unwonted excitement Of the
morning the pride of the camp had dis
appeared.
''Lorettap and ''Oh, Lorettap' rang
ont shriIl from spae-wife to chauvie
lchild) and was taken up and repeated
by youth and maiden everywhere.
Ivy an Were an hever is th' rack
lie dear little girl)?p sang out old Lijah
Boswell, grinder, butfoon and merry
father-heart of every boy and girl in the
band, as he clustered and hurried here
and there, and clustered and hurried
only.
Matthew was also missing.
Where was the daft nawken, Matthew?
And where was Loretta, racklie?
The throstles building their nests in
the hedge which swept down from the
highway until it touched the River
Wharfe below could have answered.
There, despite the calls from the camp,
the child-lovers were sobbing their part
ing.
but this to give you"
'An' wat is hit. Matthew"
''Only some lines Pve made TOTO
youv'
"W'at-an' made 'em all by yourself?
An for me?"
Then she kissed him impetuously, in
nocently.
Read 'em. Matthew Oh, do, do! rn
Rllus keep 'em; allus!"
Loretta, her great eyes dancing with
greedy pleasure, nestled her bright, warm
lace close, close to Matthew's, while her
long, glossy hair swept over his should
ers and breast as the outcast rhymste1
chokipgly began:
Long we We wandered, darling, wandered,
Heath and moor and highway DER;
Now we part. /, here 10 linger-
Thou TO seek a tar-Of shore
Out beyond the oceans roar.
Darling, by our troth-plot given;
Darling, be thy hope OF heaven;
Oh, be true as TO thee
Save the sweetest kiss for mel
Days will pass with long hours weary;
Nights all sleepleSs, StarleSS grow,
And thy nawken lover, dearie.
All the pain of waiting know;
Waiting, longing with their Woe
Darling, by our troth-pl1ght given:
Darling, be thy hope OF heaven
Oh, be true as L to thee
save the sweetest kiss for me-
Loretta, rackliel oh, Lorettai"
The whole camp was filled with alarm
She snatched The verses from the lad'.
hand. She 'showered them with kisses
She hid them as some priceless thing
within her bosom. Then she fairly
danced around her bewildered lover tel /.
ing him how, when on shipbOard, sh.
would look longingly far back across
the dark waters which divided them, anC
sing to him, tor him, these lines as the
song and the cry of her heart; would sins
them as the song OF her lips and life, anC
that they should be to them both
sacred tie until the years and the tide
should resistlessly sweep them again to-
gether.
Then long embrace. and then:
''Mi dearie Dubblesky (for the dear
Lords sake)r' from the old grinder
Liiah Boswell, as the startled lovers saw
his erst merry, but now angry. eyes peer
ing through the parted branches of tht
hedge above them.
mi dearie Dubblesky," grinder Liiaf
repeated in horror and dismay. "Lo-
retta, child 4e'll break a. our hearts wi
thisn'
She sprang from Matthew toward th,
GOOD old grinder. She thrust her round
little fist close into his kindly face. Their
she Missed at him while the clencheo
hand trembled:
s.Lijah Boswelli-Lijahi-hi ye heyel
tells on me Hill kill yei So Hi will. H
'asn't forgot HIM Romany, nor Romany
woman, neitheri Go We back T. camp
HTIl be yon before yer'
.sOh, an wat a Loretta, racklie," whiS-
pered kind-hearted Lijah, as he passed
her a few moments later and shook his
shaggy old head as she demurely received
the anxious uuestlonings and loving
greetings of the querulous women of the
camp.
In an hour more the camp was dis.
banded and the last partings with gypsy
kin had been said. Up to the highway
down over the old stone bridge of llkley,
mn beyond the ancient church OF AL
Saints among whose near graves many 8
gypsy chauyie tchildl was resting. and
then over the breezy Yorkshire hills, and
on. on to the seaport town had sped the
departing tribe.
Back in the deserted camp, prone upon
the ground where LoretIa's tent had