I am fortunate in possessing a well-developed bump of locality, and was enabled, after a survey of the neighbourhood, to lessen considerably the walking distance between the camps by taking advantage of short cuts and field paths; but the whole of my first day in the land of hops and gypsies was spent in gaining knowledge of the principal camps in the neighbourhood of Alton and the country intervening between them and similar encampments in the direction of Binsted,—the inevitable result of such reconnoitring being a return home, tired out, in the evening. The revivifying and invigorating effect of a night in the open, however, enabled me to be on foot early the next morning, and, although my projected journey to the further camps entailed a walk of five miles out, I got off at a brisk pace as there was a nip of autumn in the air, and soon settled down into a steady swing; a little later, the sun shone with considerable power, as it frequently does in an English September, so that by the time I had reached the summit of a long, steep hill some little distance on my way in an easterly direction, the country opened out before me from under the fast disappearing haze; on my right lay the village of Selborne, set in a sea of blue haze, and away to my left I could discern the spire of Binsted church, often called hereabout, the “gypsies’ church,” owing presumably to the fact that numerous gypsy weddings and christenings take place there during the hop-picking. After proceeding a mile or two further, and beyond the limit of my survey of the previous day, the haze, which at first seemed to be rapidly clearing off, began to gather again and I considered it prudent to inquire my way of a gypsy with whom I was slightly acquainted, who now came towards me. Evidently he remembered me well, for he replied in Romany—
“Jal a bit ta tuti’l dick a pukkering cosh by the rik of the drom,—kushti divvus, mush.”
Thanking him, I walked on a little as he advised, keeping a look-out for the finger-post to which he had referred. Another quarter-mile and I came upon it, after which the way was easy, and ere long I was at the spot selected as the camping ground for the next few weeks.
Since I had left my first camping ground that day, the clouds, which early in the morning seemed to be clearing for a fine day, had latterly grown rather than dwindled, becoming heavier and blacker as the afternoon wore on, and before teatime a steady rain was falling.
Everything seemed very dismal in the continued rain, the caravans around were discernible as through wetted ground glass, those at a little distance being nearly swallowed up by the prevailing mist; under the nearest of them stood some dejected-looking fowls with lowered heads and drooping tails, pictures of misery. Many gypsies were abroad, for it was Buddigur divvus,—shopping day, or Saturday,—and they were away to procure bread and other necessaries. Eventually, they returned, and as one after another they passed near me as I sat under cover, I could see that all must be wet to the skin; several upon seeing me passed some jocular remark upon the weather, and had not the strange procession of heavily laden women, men and children been so obviously discomfited, the picture they made would have been very funny. One mother attempted to shelter her babe from the wet by holding over it the half of what had once been an umbrella; a boy had placed a large galvanized wash-tray over his head to protect him from the rain, I say him advisedly, for it is not possible that his clothes could have suggested a thought for their preservation; anyhow, his trousers—such as they were—and his shirt were not afterwards taken off but were dried on the bottle-jack principle, the boy turning first one side to the fire, then the other until they no longer steamed.
Although I had luckily not got wet through, I could not avoid sharing to some degree the general discomfort, for where I was now encamped there were about thirty caravans and a number of tents, the greater number of which were owned by members of the gypsy fraternity, and all around was the squalling of babies and the shouting of men and women.
Regarding the circumstances from a purely personal point of view, I could not altogether regret this cheerless commencement of the “hopping,” as it disclosed to me a somewhat different phase of Romany life. I had lived among them in bright weather and in dull, but never before had I fraternized with them under more depressing conditions. So dismal was it that even the camp fire was unable to sustain its reputation for cheeriness, so we turned in early, and for some time after could hear men and women returning from their belated shopping; occasionally an uncertain top-heavy step passing the tent would publish the fact that a call had been made at the kitchema—in order, we will charitably suppose, to “wait till the clouds rolled by.”
The angry voices of the stragglers who brought up the rear were silenced as the heavy rain drove them home.
As I lay in bed I could feel the rain falling on my face in fine spray, and before I could get to sleep a crane-fly settled on my ear, while another danced about my chin compelling me to get up and stop their antics; again I sought repose but had not lost consciousness when a dor-beetle, which had got into the tent, flew around with a deep hum, struck something with a smack and subsided suddenly; as I did not anticipate a repetition of this performance, I left it to its own devices, but think I did not fall asleep until the last gypsy had turned in. I slept fitfully and remember being awake long enough once during the night to notice the twinkling of the stars through the minute openings in the canvas overhead.
Before sunrise I was awakened by the scratching of a fowl on the outside of my tent, of which it seemed to be making an ascent in order to herald the new day; at the critical moment, however, he appeared to lose his hold, and with a good deal of fluttering descended to the ground and contented himself with crowing lustily as he ambled around the tent, an achievement that made me wish to throw things.