SHADOWS GATHERING—SMALLPOX AND DEATH.
SEVERAL years passed away, but I still continued the same wandering
life. By this time I was the father of five children. Resting near
Town-Malden, in Essex, I had risen early one morning to look after
my horses. I found one in the ditch with its back broken, and had to
sell him for dogs meat. This was a great trouble to me at the time.
The reader must learn that even a gipsy has his peculiar troubles; we
are born to them as the sparks fly upwards. We travelled on to Epping
Forest, where we found a gipsy by the name of Cooper, whose wife’s
mother lay dead, and he asked me if I would keep their company, as
they were all alone. I consented, but the husband of the dead woman
ran away, leaving the corpse with us. He left no money behind him
with which to bury his wife, although he had made arrangements with
the undertaker for the coffin and burial. Of course that individual
wanted paying. There was nothing left, however, but the goods and
chattels of the runaway, and they had to be taken or nothing, and
he held possession until the bill was paid. These little incidents
are given to show how cruel and unsympathetic some men are, and all
this had a tendency to show me the unreality of the world. The man
subsequently came back and paid the bill. Very probably he could not
rest, knowing that his dead wife was not buried. His goods were then
restored to him, but he charged us with cheating him. In the morning,
when I went to look for my horse it was gone; and then I looked for
the man, but, to my astonishment, he was likewise missing. I at once
came to the conclusion that he had taken my horse and decamped, and
immediately went in search, advertised for the horse, and walked
about seeking it for about a week, until I was fairly broken down
in health. About a fortnight after a policeman came to me, and said
a horse answering to the description I gave was then in Westminster
Green Yard. I went to see it, and recognised it as mine, but it was
little to my advantage, for it had to be sold to pay expenses; and
when sold, to my chagrin my share only amounted to two shillings and
sixpence. Having lost my horse, I had nothing to draw my gipsy van
with. There was nothing therefore left for me but to sell out and again
take to a tent. I bought a pony and cart, which cost me five pounds;
a set of harness for fifteen pence, which you may be sure needed some
repairing. Having got some wax ends, I set to work to make the best of
it. During repairs I again thought of my folly, and longed for a change
and brighter days. Having once more succeeded in making another start
in this roaming life, we were again on the road. Fortune again seemed
to smile, and I was enabled to purchase a living-van. But trouble had
not left us yet, for although gipsies, and not accustomed to remain
in one place long together, yet trouble followed us and found us out.
Although at that time I could not understand why I was beset on every
hand with darkness, now that the clouds have dispersed, and the Sun of
Righteousness has risen, I can see it was God’s providential hand that
was leading me by a way that I knew not.
We had travelled to Baldock, Herts, and we stayed in a wide lane called
the highway, when my eldest child fell ill with smallpox. The doctor
ordered us to go into one of the by-lanes away from the town, where I
built up a tent for my dear wife and children, and took the van about
two hundred yards from them and used it as an hospital. Had we not
been gipsies very probably they would have taken the girl to the local
hospital. But, alas for us! we were gipsy outcasts. I had to act as
the attendant for the sick one, and so I watched and nursed. This was
in the month of March, as far as I can recollect. At that time I could
neither read nor write, so that I have very little recollection as to
dates. My wife used to bring the food halfway between the van and the
tent; and sometimes before I could get there it would be covered with
snow. Oh, how she used to weep and say, “My poor child will die,” and
“I shall never get over this.” Soon afterwards my son was seized with
the disease. Trouble upon trouble came upon our gipsy home, and so I
brought the van near to the tent, and for one whole month I never had
my clothes off. One after the other fell sick with the smallpox, and
I had to do the best I could for the whole of them. It may be that
you, dear reader, know something of trial, and of nursing the sick and
watching the dying ones as they breathe their last. God only knows what
I went through during that time of trial. My dear wife was stricken,
and then a baby was born. Was not this trouble? I saw that she was
dying, and as I sat by her side I asked her if she was afraid to die,
and if she thought of God. She said “Yes; but when I am praying to
God, a great black hand comes before me, and shows me all the wicked
things I have done, and something says, ‘There is no mercy for you.’”
But I had great assurance that God would forgive her. So I spoke to her
again, and told her about Christ, and asked her to look to Him; that He
was her Saviour, and that He died for sinners. On Sunday she seemed to
be much calmer, and looking into my face, said with a smile, “I want
you to promise me one thing. Will you be a good father to my children?”
I promised her that I would. She put her arms round my neck and kissed
me, and rested peacefully in the bed. In the evening, rallying herself,
she sang—
“I have a Father in the promised land.
My God calls me, I must go,
To meet Him in the promised land.”
I watched her through the night, for she was sinking very fast. On
Monday morning she seemed to be all the while praying. About eight
o’clock she breathed her last, and although a gipsy, I believe she
is gone to heaven, for where there is nothing given, nothing will be
required. But I was left with six motherless children, the baby being
only five days old. My children hearing that their mother was dead, ran
out of the tent crying, “What shall we do? We have no mother now!” My
heart was pierced—something within told me that she was gone to heaven,
and I was on my way to hell. I had some light and knowledge to point
her to Christ, but had no Christ myself.
On Tuesday night, between ten and eleven o’clock, I followed her to the
grave, by a lantern light, the only mourner. She was buried in a place
called Norton, near Baldock. I do not know how I got back. My trouble
was more than I could bear, and my sorrow was great. At midnight, I
went into a plantation beside my van, and threw myself on my face. When
all was still, I asked God to help me to keep the promise I had made
to my dying wife. God did help me, as far as this life goes; and my
sister’s daughter came to me to nurse the baby.
During the afternoon of the day I buried my wife my niece was doing
some washing, and the tent got on fire, and burnt it quite down, which
left the children without anything to put on. The sparks were flying
all over the coffin, the children crying, “Oh, my mother will be burnt
up.” My strength seemed to fail me. I fell on my face in the grass,
weeping like a child, not knowing what to do. I rushed into the fire
to try and save what I could, but the flames were so great that I was
forced to escape and let it burn itself out. The van was saved. God
most wonderfully upheld me under this great trial, and I did not take
the disease. A fortnight after the poor little baby died, and was
buried beside its mother. We remained in that lane a few weeks longer;
then the doctor gave me leave to move on, all danger being over. So we
took farewell of the place where we had seen so much sorrow, and I made
up my mind to be a different man, but trying in my own strength failed
again and again.