“Rest day” with this boy was any day he happened to feel a disinclination to work.
Upon one occasion his father threatened correction with a small stick, but the boy seemed very little impressed, for he retorted—
“If you touch me, I won’t pick another hop to-day! and I run like a March hare if I have got a sore foot.”
In some such manner he usually disarmed his father, and sometimes perhaps escaped deserved punishment; but although his precocity might possibly develop later in a vicious direction, he was at this time overflowing with fun and mischief, and was easily the best-loved kiddie in the entire camp.
Preparations for the departure of pickers to the gardens were now going on apace; tea was being made in the usual boilers, and food packed for the midday meal.
At last, all had gone off to their respective picking grounds, leaving the camp practically deserted. Faint wisps of smoke ascended from the camp fires, and the watch-dogs settled themselves for a long, comfortable sleep by the side of or under the living wagons.
The day was fine and I followed the Romanichals to the scene of their labour. By the time I arrived, work was in full swing, and numerous picturesque “bits” and groups tempted me to secure photographs of them. For this class of work I generally use a camera of the reflex type, in which, as the reader is probably aware, the picture to be taken is reflected by a suitably placed mirror upon a ground-glass screen at the top of the camera, the screen being provided with a hood to shield it from extraneous light, and it is of course intended for the use of one person only at a time; but in the hop gardens the idea appeared to prevail that two could use the camera at once, so that my photography was rendered somewhat difficult and occasionally embarrassing. The gypsy girls became at once interested in the “black art,” all being anxious to see every one else as he or she appeared in the camera. So intent was one Romany chi upon getting an insight to photography as represented by the view in the camera, that she put her arm around my neck in order that she might see into the hood at the same time as myself, and I feel sure that when the shutter clicked, she considered she had assisted materially in the composing and taking of the picture. To be quite fair, I must say we got a fine picture,—but who would not have done so under such conditions!
Copious and varied were the remarks upon the situation by the pickers within range, and we were the butt for much merriment.
As life, to many of the gypsies, would seem to be little more than a series of struggles with a malign fate, one may feel grateful if he is able sometimes to make an occasion for merry quip and jest, or afford them an opportunity to joke at his expense.
The animated scenes connected with “hopping” are extremely picturesque, for in a favourable season the hop gardens themselves, apart from the band of pickers, are very beautiful, the fragrant hop flowers hanging like immense grapes in a huge vinery covering acre after acre. Here and there between the hop-poles glimpses may be obtained of distant trees and fields, the brilliant yellow patch of a field of mustard here, green fields there, backed by a line of indigo on the horizon, and so on, each little picture being framed by the hop-poles. Personally, I never tired of this gallery of Nature’s pictures, and frequently returned home by the longest route in order to see more of them.