University of Virginia Library

FORTUNE TELLING.

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 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 good
will. We passed along a foot path, 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, gossipping over an 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 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. I saw he was
talking to her instead of she to him, and by his
glancing toward us now and then, that he was
giving the baggage some private hints.

When they returned to us he assumed a very
serious air. “Zounds,” said he, “it's very astonishing

how these creatures come by their
knowledge; this girl has told me some things
that I thought no one knew but myself!”

The girl now assailed the general; “come,
your honour,” said she, “I see by your face
you're a lucky man; but you're not happy in
your mind, you're not, indeed, sir; but have a
good heart, and give me a good piece of silver,
and I'll tell you a nice fortune.”

The general had received all her approaches
with a banter, and had suffered her to get hold
of his hand; but at the mention of the piece of
silver he hemmed, looked grave, and turning to
us, asked if we had not better continue our
walk. “Come, my master,” said the girl archly,
“you'd not be in such a hurry if you knew all
that I could tell you about a fair lady that has a
notion for you. Come, sir, old love burns strong,
there's many a one comes to see weddings that
go away brides themselves!” Here the girl whispered
something in a low voice, at which the
general coloured up; was a little fluttered, and
suffered himself to be drawn aside under the

hedge, where he appeared to listen to her with
great earnestness, and at the end paid her half a
crown, with the air of a man that has got the
worth of his money.

The girl next made her attack upon Master
Simon, who, however, was too old a bird to be
caught, knowing that it would end in an attack
upon his purse; about which he is a little sensitive.
As he has a great nation, however, of
being considered a royster, he chucked her under
the chin, played her off with rather broad jokes,
and put on something of the rake helly air that
we see now and then assumed on the stage, by
the sad-boy gentleman of the old school. “Ah,
your honour,” said the girl with a malicious
leer, “you were not in such a tantrum last year
when I told you about the widow you know
who; but if you had taken a friend's advice you'd
never have come away from Doncaster races
with a flea in your ear.”

There was a secret sting in this speech that
seemed quite to disconcert Master Simon. He
jerked away his hand in a pet; smacked his

whip, whistled to his dogs, and intimated that
it was high time to go home. The girl, however,
was determined not to lose her harvest.
She made an attack upon me, and as I have a
weakness of spirit where there is a pretty face
concerned, she soon wheedled me out of my
money, and in return read me a fortune, which,
if it prove true, and I am determined to believe
it, will make me one of the luckiest men in the
chronicles of Cupid.

I saw that the Oxonian was at the bottom of
all this oracular mystery, and was disposed to
amuse himself with the general, whose tender
approaches to the widow have attracted the
notice of the wag. I was a little curious, however,
to know the meaning of the dark hints
which had so suddenly disconcerted Master Simon;
and took occasion to fall in the rear with
the Oxonian on our way home, when he laughed
heartily at my questions, and gave me ample information
on the subject.

The truth of the matter is that Master Simon
has met with a sad rebuff since my Christmas

visit to the Hall. He used at that time to
be joked about a widow, a fine dashing woman,
as he privately informed me. I had supposed the
pleasure he betrayed on these occasions resulted
from the usual fondness of old bachelors for
being teased about getting married, and about
flirting, and being fickle and false hearted. I
am assured, however, that Master Simon had
really persuaded himself the widow had a
kindness for him; in consequence of which he
had been at some extraordinary expense in new
clothes, and had actually got Frank Bracebridge
to order him a coat from Stultz. He began to
throw out hints about the importance of a man's
settling himself in life before he grew old; he
would look grave whenever the widow and
matrimony were mentioned in the same sentence;
and privately asked the opinion of
the Squire and parson, about the prudence
of marrying a widow with a rich jointure, but
who had several children.

An important member of a great family connexion
cannot harp much upon the theme of

matrimony, without its taking wind; and it soon
got buzzed about that Mr. Simon Bracebridge
was actually gone to Doncaster races, with a
new horse; but that he meant to return in a
curricle with a lady by his side. Master Simon
did indeed go to the races, and that with a new
horse; and the dashing widow did make her
appearance in her curricle; but it was unfortunately
driven by a strapping young Irish dragoon;
with whom even Master Simon's self-complacency
would not allow him to venture into
competition; and to whom she was married shortly
after.

It was a matter of sore chagrin to Master Simon,
for several months, having never before
been so fully committed. The dullest head in
the family had a joke upon him; and there is no
one that likes less to be bantered, than an absolute
joker.

He took refuge for a time at old Lady Lillycraft's
until the matter should blow over; and
occupied himself by overlooking her accounts,
regulating the village choir, and teaching a bullfinch
to whistle “God Save the King.”

He has now pretty nearly recovered from the
mortification; holds up his head and laughs as
much as any one; affects to pity married men,
and is particularly facetious about widows, when
Lady Lillycraft is not by. His only time of
trial is when the general gets hold of him; who
is infinitely heavy and persevering in his waggery,
and will interweave a dull joke, through
the various topics of a whole dinner time. Master
Simon often parries these attacks by a stanza
from his old work of “Cupid's Solicitor for
love.”