The moon was shining bright and clear upon Morley Down, covering every rise on which its beams fell with soft and silvery light, and casting every dell and opposite slope into dark broad shadow. From that height a slight degree of mistiness appeared, hanging over the scene in the valley; but above, all was clear; and the satellite of the earth was so bountiful of her reflected rays, that our fellow-stars could scarcely be seen in the sky, twinkling faintly, half eclipsed by her excess of splendour. The scattered bushes and stunted hawthorns, and the tumulus, with its clump of towering beeches, caught the rays; but, with the peculiar effect of trees by moonlight, the latter seemed more to absorb than to reflect the light, while their long deep shadows cast upon the neighbouring ground, showed, at least, that they served to intercept the beams. In many of the little pits and hollows of the ground small pools of water had been formed; and so often did these appear, glistening in the moonshine, in situations otherwise dark, that it seemed as if the light sought out purposely the objects best calculated to reflect it, and, like active benevolence in search of humble merit, followed them into the dim and lowly abodes where they had made their dwelling.

From these pools, however, the sand-pit in which the gipsies had pitched their tents was free; and the only water it contained was afforded by a small clear spring, which the labourers had cut through in digging for the produce of the pit; and, which, welling from the bank, fell into a clear small basin of yellow sand that would, in all probability, have absorbed it speedily, had it not found a sudden channel among some smooth stones and gravel, and thence wound away, forced into a thousand meanders by the irregularity of the ground, till, issuing forth upon the common, it pursued its course down the hill, and, joined by several other brooks, poured no inconsiderable addition into the river in the valley below. It, too, caught the moonbeams and glanced brightly in them; but that was not the only light that shone upon it, as it trickled down the bank, and rested in its little basin below. A redder and less pure gleam was reflected from its waters, for at about twenty yards from the source, close under shelter of the high bank and overhanging bushes, the gipsies had pitched their tents; and now, though the hour was nearly midnight, they were just in the midst of those revels that often rise up from many a moor and many a planting throughout old England, while the rest of her denizens are fast asleep. The evening was as warm as if it had been far earlier in the year; and although the wind was high it whistled sheer over the pit, without visiting with its rude search the corner thereof in which the race of wanderers had nested their encampment. The very sound, however, and the freshness of the night air, rendered the idea of a fire any thing but unpleasant; and in three different spots of the gipsy encampment the blaze rose up and the sticks crackled, while the pots, now withdrawn from the flame, the bottles of various shapes that lay round, and the cups, some of tin, some of horn, some of silver,^[3] that circulated somewhat rapidly, told that the last and merriest meal of the day had commenced.

Three several groups had assembled round the three fires, and each had its peculiar character. At that which burned in the middle of the scene appeared Pharold, leaning upon the ground, with his elbow supported by a projection of the bank, with a middle-aged woman on one side, and the beautiful girl we have before mentioned on the other. Two or three stout men, of from forty to fifty years, surrounded him; and though joining boldly and freely in all that passed, it was evident that they listened to him when he spoke with the respect due to experience and command, and without any of that sullenness which we have noticed in some of the younger members of the tribe who were with him in the forest. Some more women completed that group; and, though merry enough, it was evident, by their demeanour, that there sat the eiders of the tribe. The next fire, at the door of a tent farther up the pit, was surrounded by a different assemblage, though it was in some degree mixed. At the entrance of the little hut itself appeared the beldam whom we have seen acting as cook in the forest, and who on that occasion, had shown some inclination towards a resistance of Pharold's authority. Round about her were five or six sturdy young men, from five-and-twenty to thirty, and five or six women; two of whom did not appear to be more than eighteen or nineteen years of age, while the rest were fine buxom brown dames of thirty-five or six. The worthy lady of the hut, however, seemed now to have lost her acerbity; and in a gay and jovial mood, with many a quip and many a jest, kept all her younger auditors in a roar; though every now and then, with a curl of the lip and a winking eye, she glanced towards the party at the other fire, as if their graver conversation was the subject of her merry sarcasm.

At the third fire appeared the younger part of the tribe, the boys and girls of all ages, except those, indeed, who rested sleeping in the huts; and this circle, the loud laughter and broad jokes of which were sometimes checkered by the sounds of contention and affray, occasioned by an old pack of cards, was presided by a strong handsome youth of about nineteen or twenty, whose proper place would have been, apparently, at the second fire. He was here, however, placed much nearer to the first group; and this proximity gave him, every now and then, an opportunity, in the intervals of teasing his younger comrades, of looking over his shoulder at the beautiful girl we have called Lena, who, as we have said, was leaning beside Pharold, and listening with seeming attention to his discourse.

The whole three fires had assembled round them a much greater number of the gipsy race than had been congregated in the wood where we first saw them; and, in truth, a very formidable party was there gathered together, who might have given not a little difficulty, and offered, should their need have required it, no insignificant resistance, either to game-keepers, constables, or police officers. Fourteen stout men, in their prime of strength, with nine or ten boys capable of very efficient service, were there met together, as well as a number of women, whose arms were of no insignificant weight, and whose tongues might have been more formidable still.

As it may be necessary, for various reasons, to afford a sample of the sort of conversation which was taking place amongst the gipsies on that night, we shall begin, on many accounts, with the second fire, round which it appeared that a liquor, which smelt very like rum, had been circulating with no retarded movements.

"Take it easy, take it easy, Dickon, my chick," said the old dame of whom we have already spoken, addressing one of the sturdy young vagabonds by whom she was surrounded: "never let's kick up a row among ourselves, do you see. That's the right way to bring the beaks upon us. He's a king of a fellow, too, that Pharold, though he do sometimes look at one, when he's angry, as if the words were too big for his throat--just as I've seen a fat cock turkey, when I've been nimming him off the perch, and got him tight round the neck with both my hands to stop his gabbling." The simile seemed to tickle the fancy of her auditors, who interrupted her by a roar, which soon, however, died away, and she proceeded. "He's a king of a fellow, though, and it wouldn't do to make a split; besides, he knows more than common; and the law's again it, too: so take it easy, Dickon, and I'll put you up to a thing or two."

"Ay, do, mother, there's a good soul!" replied the young man. "Do you see, I don't want to split with Pharold; but damn me if I go out shooting at rabbits, and hares, and little devils like that, if I am to give my word that I won't touch a deer if it comes across me."

"No, no, Dickie, never you meddle with nobody's dear," said the old woman; "though Bill there, at the other fire," she added, dropping her voice a little, and grinning significantly--"though Bill there, at the other fire, seems to have a great fancy for Pharold's own dear." A low laugh, whose suppressed tone argued that every one felt themselves on dangerous ground, followed her jest, and she went on: "But, howsomdever, Dick, never you meddle with nobody's deer, when you are bid not--till the person that bade you is out of the way--do you see? eh, Dicky, my boy?"

"Ay, that's something like now, Mother Gray," replied Dickon. "Do you see, to-morrow, it seems, we must troop, half one way and half t'other; and then, if I be not sent to a distance, and can get some good fellows to help me, I'll bet a bob that I bring home two or three as fat bucks as ever laid their haunches on the king's table--and that's a better night's work than ever Pharold will do."

"Well, well, Dickon, you shall do it," replied the old dame: "you wait quiet till to-morrow, and seem to think no more about it; and I will get Lena to wheedle Pharold out of the way, if some of his own strange jobs do not take him without; and you shall have free scope and fair play for a night, my boy, anyhow--so the keepers may count their deer the next morning, if they can."

"But suppose I am sent away," said the young man; "I would rather have gone to-night by half."

"But you know you can't, Dickon," she replied; "and it would only make a row to speak about it. We only go ten miles, any of us; and I will take care of your ten miles, my chick. So keep snug; and, do you see, there's no use of bringing up the deer to where we pitch. The shiners are what we want; and Harry Saxon, who bags the pheasants and hares, and who first gave me an inkling about the venison, will take the beasts of us for so much a head, and send them up to the lord-mayor in London. So to-morrow I'll be off early, and get the job arranged proper, and have a cart and horse ready, do you see, Dickon."

Dickon rubbed his hands with much glee; and as it would seem that some people are born to deer-stealing, he felt that satisfaction which all men must feel when a prospect opens before them of their talents at length having a free course. At that moment, however, two shots were heard at no very great distance, but in the direction of the little wooded promontory near Morley House, and the sound called forth some symptoms of emotion in more than one of the party. Pharold listened, drew in his eyes, and knit his brows hard, while Dickon vowed, with an oath, "That fellow Hallet has gone down into Mrs. Falkland's preserves, and will blow us all with his cursed gun. He might have waited an hour or two."

Pharold listened still, but made no comment; and those by whom he was surrounded seemed to suspend their own observations on the sound till his were spoken. In the mean time, Dickon and the good dame, whom he termed Mother Gray, proceeded with the edifying arrangements they had been making, and had nearly completed their plan for getting Pharold out of the way, stealing two or three deer from some of the neighbouring grounds, and sending them up to the capital to supply his majesty's burgher lieges in their necessity for fat venison. The exact park which they were to plunder, and some other of the minor considerations, were undergoing discussion, in which the whole party round the fire took a friendly and zealous share; when one of Dickon's comrades, who had been keeping an eye on Pharold's circle, touched him on the shoulder, saying, "They are going to divide the money."

"They will not have so much to divide as we shall get to-morrow," said Dickon; "I will answer for that."

"I don't know, I don't know, my chick," rejoined the worthy beldam; "that Pharold is a knowing hand, and always gets more than any one else, work for it how they will. How he gets it I am sure I don't know; and I often think he must coin his skin into guineas, for my part."

Now the complexion of the old dame herself, and of every one round her, was as yellow as any one could desire; but that did not prevent them all from enjoying the joke highly, simply, perhaps, because Pharold's countenance might be a little brighter in hue than their own. Several of them, however, now rose and approached the other fire, at which the proposed division of gains was about to take place; for it seemed that the tribe in question had retained many of the original habits of their people which have been lost among other hordes.^[4] One after another, till the turn came to Pharold, the several gipsies poured forth their acquisitions into this general fund. Silver and copper were the principal metals that appeared in the collection, though a few pieces of gold, consisting in general of coins of the value of seven shillings or half a guinea, sparkled between; the numbers who contributed, however, and the copious contributions of small coin that some of them poured forth, gave the whole sum an imposing amount; but when Pharold at length received the hat in which it was collected, and drawing forth an old purse added between thirty and forty golden pieces to the store, a murmur of joy and satisfaction ran through the assembled gipsies.

The partition next began; but it was not, as may be supposed, perfectly equal. It was perfectly just, however; each received according to the burdens upon him. The married man obtained a share double in amount to that bestowed upon a single man: the mother of a large family, even if her husband was no more, claimed in proportion to the number of her offspring, and each orphan--of which be it remarked, by one cause or another, there were several--- was treated as a single man. The partition was made by Pharold himself with rigorous equity; and though almost all the gipsies had gathered round, and observed his proceedings with gleaming black eyes and eager faces, none offered a word either of remonstrance or of information; for all were not only convinced of his justice, but every one would have felt shame to grumble at the award of one who, contributing more than the whole together, only claimed the share of an individual.

When he had done, and the whole was distributed, Pharold addressed a few words to his companions, such as the division which had just taken place suggested. He told them that in this custom, as in all the others which they themselves observed, they followed exactly the manners of their fathers: and he praised, not without eloquence, the sort of patriarchal state in which they lived. He lamented grievously, however, that many of their nation were abandoning their ancient habits; that some had even established themselves in fixed dwelling-places, had submitted themselves to the laws, and had adopted the manners, of the people amongst whom they dwelt. He besought those who surrounded him to live as all their race had lived, and promised that thus they would continue to be as prosperous as the division of that night showed them to be at present.

"A curse upon our children," cried one middle-aged woman, "if they quit the ways of their fathers, and go to live among the puny, white-faced things of the lands: a curse upon them all! May their line of life be crooked and broken off in the middle--full of crosses, and ending in Gehennel!"

A murmur of approbation followed this denunciation; and the rest of the gipsies retiring to their several fires, their carousings were renewed, while Pharold related to those who more particularly surrounded him a variety of melancholy facts relative to the degeneracy of various gipsy tribes, who had fallen into the iniquity of fixed dwelling-places, and many other abominations. He spoke of much that he had seen in his own wanderings, and much that he had heard from others; and his story became so interesting that a good many of the younger of the race crept round to listen. This, however, did not seem to suit his purpose; for he speedily broke off his discourse, and, looking round him, exclaimed, in a voice loud enough to be heard at each of the neighbouring fires, "Come, my men, we are sad to-night, and that must not be. Will," he added, speaking to the young man who, as we have said, presided over the younger circle,--"Will, you are a songster, let us hear your voice."

William obeyed without hesitation; and while he went on with his song, the old dame at the other fire continued conversing eagerly with her favourite Dickon, in tones which were low in themselves, and which were the better cut off from other ears by the rich fine voice of the singer.

SONG.

"You have changed the song, Will," said Pharold, as the other ended; "you have added and taken away."

The young man reddened, but merely replied that he had forgot some verses, and been obliged to put new ones; and Pharold, taking no further notice, continued his conversation with his companions. In the meantime, the consultation between the old lady and Dickon had gone on throughout the song, and was still continued.

"Well, well, Dickon, my boy," rejoined the old lady to something that her companion had said under cover of the singing, "keep a good tongue in your head for a while, and we'll see what we can make of it. It is a shame, indeed, that he should have his own way of getting so much stuff, no one knows how--from the Spirit, I think--and prevent you from following your way of getting some too, specially when it's all to go with the rest. And he's proud of his way of getting money, too. Did you see with what an air he poured the shiners in?"

"That I did, that I did," replied the other; "curse him! I'd get as many as he, if he'd let me."

"Ay, but you see the thing is, Dick," she answered, "he gets it, no one knows how, without ever saying a word about it to any one. Now, you follow the same plan, my chick; and if he asks you, you can then tell him to mind his own business. But hush, he's looking at us. Bid Bill give us another stave."

"Bill," cried Dickon, "give us another touch of it, there's a good 'un. Sing us Old Dobbin, and then come here and take a swig of the bingo with me and Mother Gray."

Bill was not at all reluctant, and without the slightest appearance of bashful hesitation again began to pour fourth his fine voice in song. The air, however, was of a very different kind, as far as expression went, from that which he had formerly chosen, which had been somewhat more sentimental and solemn than the words in general required, or than might have been expected from the personage by whom it was sung. In the present case, his tones were all lively, and the song seemed well known to all his companions.

SONG.

Lift your head, Robin!

Lift it and see,

Why shakes his bells, Dobbin,

Under the tree.

Why shakes his bells, Dobbin,

His old noddle bobbing,

As if there were strangers upon the green lea?

2.

Lie quiet, lie quiet,

Though danger be near,

If we make not a riot

There's nothing to fear.

If you will but try it,

And only lie quiet,

There is no harm will happen my own little dear.

3.

I have heard of the fairy

That walks in the night,

With a figure so airy

And fingers so light,

That though watch-dogs hairy

May sleep in the airy,

She will empty your hen-coops before morning light.

4.

I have heard of the witches

That ride in the dark,

And despite hedge and ditches

Get into the park;

Nim hares from their niches,

Without any hitches,

And think man-traps and spring-guns a toothless dog's bark.

5.

Then lift your head, Robin,

Lift it to find

Why the bells of old Dobbin

Sound on the night wind;

Then lift your head, Robin,

For my heart is throbbing,

About witches and fairies and things of the kind.

6.

Lie still, 'tis no fairy

That trips the green sod;

To hen-coop or dairy

No witch takes her road.

No, no! 'tis no fairy,

Nor anything airy;

Lie still and be silent, the beaks are abroad!