THE GIPSY-CAMP. 123 



farmer's substantial pantry. An old man, whose face was familiar to 

 me, sat apart with folded arms, the flickering flame at intervals lighting 

 his olive forehead, which was deeply furowed with care ; I had seen 

 him about eight years before ; he had then a young woman with him, 

 whom he called his wife ; but I had heard that she had absconded 

 with his only son. I thought once his eagle-eye penetrated my 

 thoughts and as our eyes met, his ridgy brow contracted ; but in another 

 moment, all again was darkly calm, as yet he had not uttered one word. 



Three dark-eyed young women sat together at the entrance of the 

 largest tent. One whose hair fell on her olive shoulders, dark as the 

 longest night, was rocking her beautiful form like a blooming flower 

 pressed by the passing breeze. She chaunted some wild notes, nor 

 ceased until the naked infant upon her knee closed its little bright 

 eyes in soothing sleep; the other two sat smoking, and throwing 

 green branches upon the fire, as others fell down in ruddy embers. 

 Apart from these sat a blue-eyed girl, fair as the mountain- daisy ; 

 her white fingers seemed buried among her chesnut ringlets, and 

 sorrow had settled on her interesting features ; she made a sign which 

 I could not understand ; but I fancied that we had been acquainted ; 

 her face seemed to rise before me like the dim recollection of a distant 

 dream. One man, whose athletic form would have done no discredit 

 to Hector, lay stretched out at the entrance of the camp, playing 

 with the dogs, who in return showed their affection by licking his 

 face, which was not one of the cleanest ; two other daring young 

 fellows I had dispatched to the inn (which was near upon four miles 

 distant), with a written order for ale and liquors. 



" They are a long time before they bring you drink," said I, 

 jocosely ; " I hope they have not got murdered on the road." 



" It is na two nor three, as could either murder or frighten Israel 

 and Jonathan," replied the young mother, " beside, they've got 

 Guider with 'em, and he can tear any man down." 



At the mention of murder ; the old man who sat in the shadow of 

 his tent blanket, involuntarily shuddered ; again our eyes met. This 

 was too much ; he arose, threw his pipe angrily in the fire, and left 

 the camp bare-headed. 



" The spirit is in Black Boswell again," whispered the old woman, 

 as she continued mashing some potatoes in a bowl ; " he often arises 

 from his tent at midnight, when he thinks we are all asleep, and hur- 

 ries down the fox-heath, where he will walk backwards and fore- 

 wards before an old blasted pine. We have watched him unper- 

 ceived for hours ; he has never been happy since Mary ran away 

 with his son Nash. Heigho !" This information was received in 

 silence by us all, saving the young mother, who shook her head and 

 exclaimed " All can't be right !" Much talk occurred, and specula- 

 tions were hazarded on Black Boswell, till Israel and Jonathan ar- 

 rived laden with victuals and drink. 



" Well," I interrogated, " what did the old landlord say ?" 



" O ! he only told us to keep sober, and said as he need'nt sit up 

 on yo' as this drink would last us till the cock crow'd and longer." 



" Where is Black Boswell ?" exclaimed Israel, sharply. 



" Gone to the d heath," was the answer. 



