Fortune Telling

Each city, each town, and every village
Affords us either an alms or pillage.
And if the weather be cold and raw,
Then in a barn we tumble on straw.
If warm and fair, by yea-cock and nay-cock,
The fields will afford us a hedge or a hay-cock.

MERRY BEGGARS.

As I was walking one evening with the Oxonian, Master Simon, and the
general, in a meadow not far from the village, we heard the sound of a
fiddle rudely played, and looking in the direction from whence it came,
we saw a thread of smoke curling up from among the trees. The sound of
music is always attractive; for, wherever there is music, there is good
humour, or goodwill. We passed along a footpath, and had a peep, through
a break in the hedge, at the musician and his party, when the Oxonian
gave us a wink, and told us that if we would follow him we should have
some sport.

It proved to be a gipsy encampment, consisting of three or four little
cabins, or tents, made of blankets and sail-cloth, spread over hoops
that were stuck in the ground. It was on one side of a green lane, close
under a hawthorn hedge, with a broad beech-tree spreading above it. A
small rill tinkled along close by, through the fresh sward, that looked
like a carpet.

A tea-kettle was hanging by a crooked piece of iron, over a fire made
from dry sticks and leaves, and two old gipsies, in red cloaks, sat
crouched on the grass, gossiping over their evening cup of tea; for
these creatures, though they live in the open air, have their ideas of
fireside comforts. There were two or three children sleeping on the
straw with which the tents were littered; a couple of donkeys were
grazing in the lane, and a thievish-looking dog was lying before the
fire. Some of the younger gipsies were dancing to the music of a
fiddle, played by a tall, slender stripling, in an old frock coat, with
a peacock's feather stuck in his hatband.

As we approached, a gipsy girl, with a pair of fine roguish eyes, came
up, and, as usual, offered to tell our fortunes. I could not but admire
a certain degree of slattern elegance about the baggage. Her long black
silken hair was curiously plaited in numerous small braids, and
negligently put up in a picturesque style that a painter might have been
proud to have devised. Her dress was of a figured chintz, rather ragged,
and not over clean, but of a variety of most harmonious and agreeable
colours; for these beings have a singularly fine eye for colours. Her
straw hat was in her hand, and a red cloak thrown over one arm.

The Oxonian offered at once to have his fortune told, and the girl began
with the usual volubility of her race; but he drew her on one side near
the hedge, as he said he had no idea of having his secrets overheard.