19/26 Not far from where the track crossed a lonely road was a gipsy encampment; that swarthy people are ever about when anything is going on, and the reapers were busy in the corn. The dead dry thorns of the hedge answered very well to boil their pot with. Their tents, formed by thrusting the ends of long bent rods like half-hoops into the turf, looked dark like the canvas of a barge. The men wore golden earrings, and bought 'Black Sally,' a withy that has a dark bark, for pegs, and 'bolts' of osier for basket-making. A bolt is a bundle of forty inches in circumference. |