“Can’t stop now, want to get these off by train; back in half an hour; my missis and brother are at the camp, you know where.”
Upon arriving at the camp I found all busy making artificial flowers, and I was informed by the “missis” that her “man” had a contract with a wholesale firm who took all they could make. The children were at it too, handling the knife rapidly and cleverly. As the manufacture of flowers of the kind upon which they were engaged appears to be local, a description of the process will be of interest:—
The flowers are nearly always of the chrysanthemum or daisy type; green wood is used, pieces of straight grain being selected, as knots would, of course, cause trouble, and the rejection of unsuitable stuff does not add appreciably to the cost of production when the gypsy gets raw material for nothing,—or very little more. Firstly, a piece of wood of, say, six inches in length, and three-quarters of an inch, or less, in diameter, is taken and the bark shaved from it, the stick is then held so that the knife is drawn towards the operator in cutting the outer petals; these are cut of the width and to the length decided upon, the degree to which they curl away from the knife depending partly upon the nature of the wood as well as the angle at which the knife is held. After closely cutting all around the stick in this way, similar rows or rings are cut round and round, length and width being diminished as the centre is approached, until the stick, at the point which should be the centre of the flower, becomes so attenuated that it breaks easily or comes away altogether, leaving an artificial flower. Variations in the shape of the flower, from conical to under-curling flat, may be made by giving the knife a greater or lesser outward turn when the base of each petal is reached, thereby bending it outward and down. The flowers are finally wired, the stems wound with green paper, and arranged for sale. These gypsy folk have an ingenious but simple method of dyeing the flowers; they immerse the sticks from which they are to be cut—after first getting rid of the bark—in boiling dye, which they allow to penetrate more or less, according to effect aimed at, and when the flowers are cut they are often beautifully variegated and shaded, while others are dyed altogether.
After the man had returned to the camp, he gave me some interesting particulars of their work, and said the reason for using green wood is that the flowers retain the form imparted to them in the cutting if they are made from the green stuff and allowed to dry. He stated also that they had to make the best they could of daylight, for the work by candle light was extremely trying for the eyes; he had, himself, at one time worked by candle light a good deal, but found he would lose his sight if he persisted in it: he said, moreover, that by sitting closely at work, he was able, single-handed, to make and complete a gross of flowers in one day. In the course of our conversation upon all sorts of topics there was frequent evidence that—despite his lack of scientific knowledge—he was very much interested in all natural objects. He described, pretty minutely, a curious nest of wasps he had observed, “about as big as a cricket-ball,[3] hanging from a ‘hurt’ bush,”[4] and related how a grass snake which had come into the tent, took possession of a sleeve of his coat that happened to be lying on the ground; he also spoke of rats in the strawberry country and stated that his “missis” was awakened one night by a rat nibbling her hair; this is not to be in the least discredited, for in the same locality I once saw in one evening, within a space of fifty yards, no less than five large rats running across a lane towards or from gypsy encampments to which these rodents had probably been attracted by the potato skins, bits of crust and other waste food lying around.
THE MAKER OF TOY CHAIRS.
This man was also a skewer-maker—escunye-mengro,—but said there was practically no demand for them now, metal skewers being so much used, and added, that as a matter of fact he never made them now unless he had a special request for them.
“You haven’t seen mother to-day, have you?” he questioned, and without waiting for my reply, added—