I've Been a Gipsying - George Smith

I've Been a Gipsying

By George Smith

  • Release Date: 2020-06-18
  • Genre: Action & Adventure

Description

After being kept in bed at a friend’s house by pain and prostration for forty hours, it was pleasant to tramp upon the green, mossy sward of Nature in Victoria Park on a bright Easter Monday morning, with the sun winking and blinking in my face through the trees on my way to the station in the midst of a throng of busy holiday-seekers, dressed in their best clothes, with all the variety of colour and fashion that can only be seen on a bank-holiday. The fashions worn by the ladies ranged from the reign of Queen Anne to that of the latest fantasy under our good Queen Victoria, with plenty of room for digression and varieties according to the individual taste and vagary. Some of the ladies’ pretty faces were not without colour which makes “beautiful for ever.” There were others who might almost claim relationship to Shetland ponies, for their hair hung over their foreheads, covering their “witching eyes,” making them like two-year old colts, and as if they were ashamed to show the noble foreheads God had given them. Others were walking on stilts, evidently with much discomfort, and with both eyes shut to the injury they were inflicting upon their delicate frames and constitutions. This class of young ladies evidently thought that high heels, pretty ankles, and small feet, with plenty of giggle and bosh, were the things to “trap ’em and catch ’em.” Poor things! they are terribly mistaken on this point. The things to “trap ’em and catch ’em” are graceful action, modest reserve, soft looks, a heart full of sympathy, tenderness, goodness, and kindness. Few young men can withstand these “fireworks.” These are the things which make “beautiful for ever.”
The fashions adopted by the gentlemen were all “cuts” and “shapes.” Naughty children vulgarly call them “young dandies”—“flashy fops” whose brains and money—if they ever had any—vanish into smoke or the fumes of a beer barrel. Their garments were covered with creases, caused by the ironing process at their “uncle’s,” which certainly did not add to their appearance, or the elegance of their figures. As they yawned, laughed, shouted, and giggled upon the platform, with their mouths open—not quite as wide as Jumbo’s when apples are thrown at him—it was not surprising that flies fast disappeared.
There were others whose head and face had the appearance of having been in many a storm of the “bull and pup” fashion. They wore pantaloons tight round the knees and wide about the ankles, and coats made of a small Scotch plaid, blue and black cloth, with pockets inside and outside, capable of holding a few rabbits, hares, and partridges without any inconvenience to the wearer. At the heels of these gentry, who loitered about with sticks in their hands, skulked lurcher dogs.
Frequently I came alongside a young gentleman with an intelligent face, marked by thought, care, and study, who evidently was taking an “outing” for the good of his health. As he passed the vacant-minded part of the throng and crush, he seemed to give a kind of side glance of pity and contempt, and then passed along, keeping a sharp look-out after his pockets.
Among the crowd of pleasure-seekers there was a large sprinkling of men with premature grey locks and snowy white hair, betoking a life of hurry and worry, thought, care, and anxiety, with several children jumping and frisking round them with glee, delight, joy, and smiles at the prospect of spending a day with their fathers in the forest free from school and city life. As the lovely children were bounding along, it only required a very slight stretch of imagination to read the thoughts of the good father, and to hear him saying to the children, “I wish I was young again, I should like to have a romp with you to-day; my heart beats with joy at seeing you dance about. God bless you, my dear children; God bless you! I am so glad to see you so happy.” And then tears would trickle down the face of the early careworn father, at the thought of a coming parting, when he would have to bid them good-bye, and leave them in the hands of God and an early widowed mother, to get along as well as they could in the midst of the cold shoulders of the friends of the bygone prosperous times, who have received many favours at the hands of the early grey-bearded father, but shudder at the thought of being asked by the poor widow for a favour.

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