
QUARTERS OF QUEEN STELLA, OF THE STANLEY TRIBE 
of the tent. A great roll of bedding arranged 
to form a divan on one side of the tent, a 
drygoods box on end with a few cooking 
utensils and dishes are the only other arti- 
cles of furniture. At night the bedding is 
unrolled, the tent flap dropped. 
But this is intruding. The bride and 
groom have not taken possession of their 
new home—the wedding is still in full 
swing; it has been going on for three days 
and will fill the social horizon for three days 
more. Were you ever at a Gypsy wedding ? 
Well, never mind, all guests are welcome, 
even the hated gringo, if he brings plenty of 
silver coins to exchange for weak, red wine 
in which to drink the bride’s health. Out- 
side the marriage tent a solemn company of 
men and women, brave in Gypsy finery of 
scarlet shawls and brilliant handkerchiefs, 
are dancing in the mud, their hands inter- 
laced after the fashion of children playing 
ring-around-the-rosy. These are the bride’s 
kinspeople. The parents of the groom 
stand apart before their tent, apparently 
unconscious that a wedding is in progress. 
i. Two young lads with a violin and a guitar, 
their plaid kerchiefs tied loosely under roll- 
ing velvet collars, halt before the bridal 
tent and begina gay, wild Gypsy air. Itisa 
Romany classic, this marriage song, and the 
young violinist, scarcely 15, sways his lithe 
body in supple cadence with the music. 
Passionate and sad, sensuous and dreamy, 
the love song throbs in the guitar and wails 
over the strings of the violin in exquisite 
harmony. There is genius in the touch of 
the young musician’s fingers that lovingly 
caress the worn violin. This music is not 
written—you may hear reminiscences of it 
in Liszt’s melodies—but the thing itself is 
handed down from father to son in the 
Gypsy tribes. 
Lift the tent-flap and you will see a 
curious sight. On the floor is spread a red- 
barred table-cloth and on it is meat and 
wine and many Romany delicacies. A 
merry crowd of young folk, the friends of 
the bride and groom, are feasting, laughing 
and singing with the joy of youth and irre- 
sponsibility. Standing at the back of the 
tent, totally ignored by the assembled com- 
pany, are the bride and groom. The girl, 
full bosomed, strong and beautiful, is in 
tears—one end of her white tulle veil drawn 
across her face to hide its sadness. She leans 
on the arm of a dark, slender boy, who looks 
