Gipsies

What's that to absolute freedom, such as the very beggars
have; to feast and revel here to-day, and yonder to-morrow;
next day where they please; and so on still, the whole country
or kingdom over? There's liberty! the birds of the air can
take no more.

JOVIAL CREW.

Since the meeting with the gipsies, which I have related in a former
paper, I have observed several of them haunting the purlieus of the
Hall, in spite of a positive interdiction of the squire. They are part
of a gang that has long kept about this neighbourhood, to the great
annoyance of the farmers, whose poultry-yards often suffer from their
nocturnal invasions. They are, however, in some measure, patronised by
the squire, who considers the race as belonging to the good old times;
which, to confess the private truth, seem to have abounded with
good-for-nothing characters.

This roving crew is called "Starlight Tom's Gang," from the name of its
chieftain, a notorious poacher. I have heard repeatedly of the misdeeds
of this "minion of the moon;" for every midnight depredation that takes
place in park, or fold, or farm-yard, is laid to his charge. Starlight
Tom, in fact, answers to his name; he seems to walk in darkness, and,
like a fox, to be traced in the morning by the mischief he has done. He
reminds me of that fearful personage in the nursery rhyme:

"Who goes round the house at night?
None but bloody Tom!
Who steals all the sheep at night?
None but one by one!"

In short, Starlight Tom is the scapegoat of the neighbourhood; but so
cunning and adroit, that there is no detecting him. Old Christy and the
gamekeeper have watched many a night in hopes of entrapping him; and
Christy often patrols the park with his dogs, for the purpose, but all
in vain. It is said that the squire winks hard at his misdeeds, having
an indulgent feeling towards the vagabond, because of his being very
expert at all kinds of games, a great shot with the cross-bow, and the
best morris dancer in the country.

The squire also suffers the gang to lurk unmolested about the skirts of
his estate, on condition that they do not come about the house. The
approaching wedding, however, has made a kind of Saturnalia at the Hall,
and has caused a suspension of all sober rule. It has produced a great
sensation throughout the female part of the household; not a housemaid
but dreams of wedding favours, and has a husband running in her head.
Such a time is a harvest for the gipsies: there is a public footpath
leading across one part of the park, by which they have free ingress,
and they are continually hovering about the grounds, telling the servant
girls' fortunes, or getting smuggled in to the young ladies.