1826.] The Young Gipsy : a Village Sketch. 131 



proved medicament of the most aft'ectionate relatives is a good dose of 

 scolding. 



" She liked Dick," she continued, " in spite of his unluckiness — he 

 was so quick and good-humoured ; but the person she loved most was her 

 youngest brother, Willy. Willy was the best boy in the world, he 

 would do any thing she told him (indeed the poor child was in the very 

 act of picking up acorns, imder her inspection, to sell, as I afterwards 

 found, in the village), and never got into mischief, or told a lie in his 

 life ; she had had the care of him ever since he was born, and she 

 wished she could get hhn a place." I5y this time the little boy had 

 crept towards us, and, still collecting the acorns in his small brown 

 hands, had turned up his keen intelligent face, and was listening with 

 great interest to our conver.^ation. " A place !" said I, nmch surprised. 

 " Yes," replied she firmly, " a place. 'Twould be a fine thing for my 

 poor Willy to have a house over him in the cold winter nights." And 

 with a grave tenderness, that might have iKseemed a young mother, 

 she stooped her head over the boy and kissed him. " But you sleep 

 out of doors in the cold winter nights, Fanny ?" — " Me ! oh, I 

 don't mind it, and sometimes we creep into a barn. But poor Willy I if 

 I could but get Willy a place, my lady I" 



This " my lady," the first gipsy word that Fanny had uttered, lost all 

 that it would have had of unpleasing in the generosity and aftectionate- 

 ness of the motive. I could not help promising to recommend her 

 Willy, although I could not hold out any very strong hopes of success, 

 and we parted, Fanny following me, with thanks upon thanks, almost to 

 tlie end of the lane. 



Two days after I again saw my pretty gipsy ; she was standing by the 

 side of our gate, too modest even to enter the court, waiting for my 

 coming out to speak to me. I brought her into the hall, and was 

 almost equall}' delighted to see her, and to hear her news ; lor although 

 I had most faithfully performed my promise, b}' mentioning master Willy 

 to every body likely to want a seivant of his qualifications, I had seen 

 enough in the course of my canvass to convince me that a gipsy boy of 

 eight years old would be a difficult protege to provide for. 



Fanny's errand relieved my perplexity. She came to tell me that 

 Willy had gotten a place — " That "Thomas Lamb, my lord's head game- 

 keeper, had hired him to tend his horse and his cow, and serve the pigs, 

 and feed the dogs, and dig the garden, and clean the shoes and knives, 

 and run errands — in short, to be man of all work. Willy was gone that 

 very morning. He had cried to part with her, and she had almost cried 

 herself, she should miss him so : he was like her own child. But then 

 it was such a great place ; and Thomas Lamb seemed such a kind 

 master — talked of new clothing him, and meant him to wear shoes and 

 stockings, and was very kind indeed. But poor Willy had cried sadly 

 at leaving her," — and the sweet matronly elder sister fairly cried too. 



I comforted her all I could, first by praises of Thomas Lamb, who 

 happened to be of my acquaintance, and was indeed the very master 

 whom, had I had the choice, I would have selected for Willy ; and 

 secondly, by the gift of some unconsidered trifles, which one should 

 have been ashamed to offer to any one who had ever had a house over 

 her head, but which the pretty gipsy girl received with transport, 

 especially some working materials of the commonest sort. Poor Fanny 

 had never known the luxury of a thimble before ; it was as new to her 



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