Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1921-05-04
standing in her night robe on the door

step of the wagon and she was saying,
Rodney, mother is dead" and my
father fell with his face to the ground
and sobbed out from his little boyish
romantic heart, Rodney, you will
never be like other boys any more,
for you have got no mother"
When the undertaken came he told
them that of course, as they were
Gypsies, she could not be buried in
the day time, but that they would
bury her the next night after dark,
and that instead of a hearse he would
rent for them a farmers cart. The
only cemetery in the vicinity was one
in the yard of the Church of Eng
land. and when the rector was inter-
viewed he said "What, bury Gypsy
in consecrated ground? What would
my parishioners think?" But when
the undertaken pointed out to him
that that was the only public ceme-
terry, and that the English law forbade
private burying grounds, he very re-
luctantly gave his consent that she
could be buried in a corner of the
church yard where the sexton threw
his rubbish, and the next night at
midnight my grandfather with a Ian
tern, followed as the only mourner,
and my grandmother was laid to rest
in the rubbish heap of that church
yard.
God in His infinite goodness came
into the home again in a few days
and took away the little baby, and
mother and baby lay side by side.
The Change in the Home.
That was the beginning of the
changes in our Gypsy home. My
grandfather came back from that fu-
neral changed man. Not, of course,
in Christian sense, but in the sense
that he had promised to his dying
wife to be better man, and because
of his great love for her he tried to
make good his promise. He didn't al
ways keep it, sometimes he broke it,
and then after the children were in
bed at night, and thinking they were
asleep, he would sit over the campfire
and talk to his wife, thinking she
could hear him, and he would tell her
how he had broken his promise to
her and asked for forgiveness. My
father used to wear in those days
what we call in England a "smock
frock." 1t was a loose slip that went
over the shoulders with sleeves and
pockets, kind of an overall. Well,
it was an under-all too, because when
it was off it was goodnight, you were
ready for bed. The boys used to like
them because of the capacity of the
pockets, and a few months after my
grandmothers' death the family were
camping on the land of a very fine
farmer, and he was noted for rich
plum orchard. That morning my
grandfather said to the children, 81
don't want you to leave the wagon to-
day." This meant to the children,
"that this farmer and / are very good
friends, he has confidence in me and
1 live in his good graces, so l don't
want you children to go all around
the farm seeing what you can find"
The children usually obeyed their
father, for a Gypsy father is very
fatherly and he has a way of taking
his children when they disobey across
his knees with their faces downward
and when he makes an engagement
like that he never breaks it. Some
times he nearly breaks them. In a
Gypsy tent the father raises the chill
dren, but very often in this age in
America the children raise the faith
er. !
My father knew about that plum
orchard, and he wanted some of the
.plums, and he made up his mind that
he was going to have some, licking
or no licking, and about noon, while
his fathers back was turned, he went
to the orchard and picked out what he
thought was the best tree, and then
climbing to the top of the tree, for
the best fruit is always at the top, he
filled both of his pockets with plums,
and he had one in his mouth that he
was enjoying when he looked down
and saw the farmer standing there.
The farmer gave him pressing invl-
tation to come down, and my father
said "I am not good climber" and
tho farmer said "we11 7 will wait for