1:28 THE GIPSY-CAM I'. 



news created, had borne the tidings into the kitchen. Nothing was 

 heard within the house but " Black BoswelFs dead !" 



At twilight we again set out for the gipsy-camp. Lavina appeared 

 rather alarmed at the thought of witnessing the solemn ceremony. 

 The moon was only visible at intervals, owing to the large masses of 

 dark clouds which were sailing rapidly towards the west ; every 

 thing around foreboded an approaching storm ; that deep hollow 

 murmur, which is a certain herald, was heard in the woods, and before 

 we reached the camp a smart shower had commenced, ushered in by 

 the faint sounds of distant thunder. The air was close and sultry ; a 

 vivid flash lighted even the dark recesses of the wood j arid a loud 

 peal of thunder burst forth, causing the earth to shake beneath our 

 feet. All nature appeared agitated. Peal followed peal, without 

 cessation, saving those moments when the whole atmosphere appeared 

 one mass of sheeted fire. By the time we reached the camp the rain 

 poured down in torrents, and sounded through the dreary woods like 

 the distant roar of the wind-lifted ocean. 



We entered the camp without exciting the slightest notice. All 

 appeared unconscious of the elemental din by which they were sur- 

 rounded. Where but the previous night had crackled the cheering 

 fire, was laid the corse, upon a rugged bier of green boughs. All, 

 saving the head, was stitched up in white linen'. Around were 

 seated the mourners, in various positions, all chanting some low, 

 lone, melancholy dirge, which I did not understand. The children 

 had been dispatched early to rest on this occasion ; the powerful 

 mastiffs lay quietly, as if they, too, felt a portion of that sorrow which 

 encompassed all. 



" Abigail," said I (she lifted up her head, but made me no answer), 

 " it will be midnight by the time we reach the heath." 



All arose in silence. The bier was borne by four of the men, the 

 rest followed in death-like stillness. At times nothing was visible 

 through the gloom but the white linen that enshrouded the dead. 

 Then, again, the glancing lightning unveiled the slow-moving group ; 

 still we pressed forward. Although the thunder growled out his 

 funeral hymn, and the red flashes were his torch-bearers, not one, 

 saving Lavina, appeared to quail. They laid him down softly in his 

 damp grave. There was no hollow sound when the earth was thrown 

 upon his coffinless corse ; no priest mumbled the cold ceremony for 

 the dead ; nothing but sighs and tears was his requiem. There they 

 rest upon that lonely heath the murderer and the murdered. The 

 blasted pine is alone their monument ! Last summer I took my dear 

 wife, Lavina, to visit its solitudes. No trace remained, saving the 

 lonely tree, to tell of what had been. Upon their silent graves 

 bloomed a thousand purple heath-bells ; the merry birds filled the 

 surrounding woods with music, the wild bee flew murmuring from 

 flower to flower. We wandered in silence up the grassy lane, over 

 which the disturbing wheels but seldom pass ; all was tranquil as if 

 the foot of man never invaded its solitude. No sign no trace re- 

 mained to point out the ever-remembered Gipsy-Camp. 



T. M. 



