JUST BEFORE WINTER. 163 



grass, the night that steals on till the stubbles alone are 

 light among the fields — the gipsy sleeps in his tent on 

 mother earth ; it is, you see, primeval man with primeval 

 nature. One thing he gains at least — an iron health, an 

 untiring foot, women whose haunches bear any burden, 

 children whose naked feet are not afraid of the dew. 



By sharp contrast, the Anglo-Saxon labourer who 

 lives in the cottage close by and works at the old 

 timbered farmstead is profoundly religious. 



The gipsies return from their rambling soon after 

 the end of hop-picking, and hold a kind of informal fair 

 on the village green with cockshies, swings, and all the 

 clumsy games that extract money from clumsy hands. 

 It is almost the only time of the year when the labouring 

 people have any cash ; their weekly wages are mortgaged 

 beforehand ; the hop-picking money comes in a lump, 

 and they have something to spend. Hundreds of pounds 

 are paid to meet the tally or account kept by the pickers, 

 the old word tally still surviving, and this has to be 

 charmed out of their pockets. Besides the gipsies' fair, 

 the little shopkeepers in the villages send out circulars to 

 the most outlying cottage announcing the annual sale 

 at an immense sacrifice ; anything to get the hop-pickers' 

 cash ; and the packmen come round, too, with jewelry 

 and lace and finery. The village by the forest has been 

 haunted by the gipsies for a century ; its population in 

 the last thirty years has much increased, and it is very 

 curious to observe how the gipsy element has impreg- 

 nated the place. Not only are the names gipsy, the 

 faces are gipsy ; the black coarse hair, high cheek-bones, 

 and peculiar forehead linger ; even many of the shop- 

 keepers have a distinct trace, and others that do not 

 show it so much are known to be nevertheless related. 



Until land became so valuable — it is now again 



