Читать книгу I've been a Gipsying. Rambles among our Gipsies and their children in their tents and vans онлайн

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I said, “Now Mr. Pether, from what cause did you receive the name of ‘Scare’?” “Well, to tell you the truth,” said Mr. “Scare,” “at the edge of the forest there was a little low public-house, kept by a man and his wife, which we gipsies used to visit. In course of time the man died, and the old woman used to always be crying her eyes up about the loss of her poor ‘Bill;’ at least, she seemed to be always crying about him, which I knew was not real—she did not care a rap about the old man—so I thought I would have a lark with the old girl. In the yard there were a lot of fowls, and just before the old girl went to bed—and I knew which bed she slept in—I put up the window and turned one of the fowls into the room and then pulled it gently down again, and I then stood back in the yard. Presently the old girl, I could see by the light, was making for her bedroom, which was on the ground floor. No sooner had the old girl opened the door than the fowl began ‘scare!’ ‘scare!’ ‘scare!’ ‘scare!’ and ‘flusker’ and ‘flapper’ about the room. The old lady was so frightened that she dropped the candle upon the floor and ran out in the yard calling out ‘Murder!’ ‘murder!’ ‘murder!’ Of course I dared not be seen and sneaked away. Early next morning I went to the house and called for some beer. No sooner had I entered than the old girl told me that she had seen her husband’s ghost on the bed, and it had almost frightened her wild. It had made every hair upon her head stand upright. It was her husband’s ghost, she was sure it was, she said; and nobody could make her believe it was not; and from that night the old woman would not sleep in the room again. She very soon left the public-house, and one of my friends took it. From this circumstance I have gone in the name of ‘Jack Scare.’” “Well, what have you to say about the name ‘Scarecrow,’ by which you are known?” “Scarecrow,” said Mr. Pether, “was given to me after I had fetched, in the dead of the night, a bough of the tree upon which a man had hung himself a few days before. It arose in this way. A man hung himself in a wood through some girl, and after he was cut down and buried a gipsy I knew begged or bought his clothes for a little—I could not say what the amount was, I think five shillings—and wore them. Chaff, jokes, and sneers with that gipsy for wearing the dead man’s clothes resulted in a bet being made for five shillings as to whether I dare, or dare not, visit the spot where the man was hung at midnight hour, and bring some token or proof from the place as having been there. I went and fetched a bough of the very same tree, and from that circumstance I have been called ‘scarecrow’ or ‘dare-devil.’ ‘Poshcard’ or ‘Shovecard’ was given to me because I was always a good hand at cheating with cards.” Posh among the gipsies and in Romany means “half,” and I suppose they really looked upon Pether as having half gipsy blood in his veins.