130 TRAMPS 



you may see him heading for the well-known resting- 

 place with deliberate purpose. As you are taking your 

 stroll abroad towards eventide you hear the sharp report 

 of a whip and the heavy rattle of wheels. Then you 

 may distinguish the weather-stained tilt of the leading 

 van emerging from among the foliage in the winding 

 lane. In due course the leisurely procession passes 

 you. Matrons, saving their legs, seated upon piles of 

 dilapidated household stuff ; babies fast asleep, curled 

 up in bundles of weather-stained rags ; spare, sun-dried 

 men, and lithe hobbledehoy lads, lolloping along by the 

 waggon-wheels in the wake of their sturdy leader ; 

 boys of the tinge of half-ripened blackberries, staring 

 out with glittering black eyes through the thatch of 

 their tangled elf-locks ; buxom girls of Egyptian type, 

 in scanty draperies of variegated colours. 



Should you follow them in deed or in fancy to their 

 halting-place, you can hardly help envying the freedom 

 of their bivouac. Every one knows his work, and does 

 it ; and all is made ready with swift dexterity. The 

 vans are drawn aside out of the wind ; the ragged- 

 shouldered, pot-bellied horses are loosed, and hobbled, 

 and turned out to graze ; the low tents are stretched 

 over the poles and hoops ; the fires are kindled where 

 there is a natural draught, and the kettles are swung 

 from their hooks over the heaps of crackling sticks. 

 Even in wind and wet the hardy nomads make out 

 wonderfully well, and the venturesome traveller in 

 savage parts might take many a lesson from their camp 

 arrangements ; but in a summer evening, when the 



