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

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“Some angel in the land of love

For love should pity me,

And draw me in like Noah’s dove

From wastes of misery.”

The lark echoes in the air—

“But I would seek on earth below

A space for heaven to win,

To cheer one heart bowed down by woe,

To save one soul from sin.”

I left this hut, after taking a breath of fresh air, for another gipsy dwelling round the corner, picking my way among the masses of filth as well as I could. Here another sight, not quite so sickening, but equally heartrending, presented itself. A gipsy woman was squatting upon the filthy boards, the father was sitting upon a rickety old chair without any bottom in it; i.e., there were a few cords tied across which served to hold up one or two dirty rags, and these were sunk so low that any one sitting upon the chair could feel nothing but the rims, which were not at all comfortable. Round the man and woman were six children of all ages and sizes, partially dressed in filthy rags and old shoes, which seemed to have been picked out of the ashes upon Hackney Marshes, all of which were much too large for their little feet, and were stuffed with rags. One little girl had a pair of cast-off woman’s shoes, possessing little sole and almost less “uppers.”