What's that to absolute freedom, such as the very beggars have; to feast and revel¹ here to-day, and yonder to-morrow; next day where they please; and so on still, the whole country or kingdom over? There's liberty! the birds of the air can take no more.  
JOVIAL² CREW.
 
 
 
Since the meeting with the gipsies, which I have related in a former paper, I have observed several of them haunting the purlieus of the Hall, in spite of a positive interdiction³ of the squire⁴. They are part of a gang that has long kept about this neighbourhood, to the great annoyance⁶ of the farmers, whose poultry-yards often suffer from their nocturnal invasions. They are, however, in some measure, patronised by the squire, who considers the race as belonging to the good old times; which, to confess the private truth, seem to have abounded⁸ with good-for-nothing characters.
 
This roving crew is called "Starlight Tom's Gang," from the name of its chieftain, a notorious poacher. I have heard repeatedly of the misdeeds of this "minion⁹ of the moon;" for every midnight depredation¹⁰ that takes place in park, or fold, or farm-yard, is laid to his charge. Starlight Tom, in fact, answers to his name; he seems to walk in darkness, and, like a fox, to be traced in the morning by the mischief¹¹ he has done. He reminds me of that fearful personage in the nursery rhyme:
 
"Who goes round the house at night?
  None but bloody¹² Tom!
Who steals all the sheep at night?
  None but one by one!"
 
In short, Starlight Tom is the scapegoat¹³ of the neighbourhood; but so cunning and adroit¹⁴, that there is no detecting him. Old Christy and the gamekeeper have watched many a night in hopes of entrapping¹⁵ him; and Christy often patrols the park with his dogs, for the purpose, but all in vain. It is said that the squire winks¹⁶ hard at his misdeeds, having an indulgent feeling towards the vagabond, because of his being very expert at all kinds of games, a great shot with the cross-bow, and the best morris dancer in the country.
 
The squire also suffers the gang to lurk¹⁷ unmolested about the skirts of his estate, on condition that they do not come about the house. The approaching wedding, however, has made a kind of Saturnalia at the Hall, and has caused a suspension of all sober rule. It has produced a great sensation throughout the female part of the household; not a housemaid but dreams of wedding favours, and has a husband running in her head. Such a time is a harvest for the gipsies: there is a public footpath¹⁸ leading across one part of the park, by which they have free ingress, and they are continually hovering¹⁹ about the grounds, telling the servant girls' fortunes, or getting smuggled²⁰ in to the young ladies.
 
I believe the Oxonian amuses himself very much by furnishing them with hints in private, and bewildering all the weak brains in the house with their wonderful revelations. The general certainly was very much astonished by the communications made to him the other evening by the gipsy girl: he kept a wary²¹ silence towards us on the subject, and affected²² to treat it lightly; but I have noticed that he has since redoubled his attentions to Lady Lillycraft and her dogs.
 
I have seen also Phoebe Wilkins, the housekeeper's pretty and love-sick niece, holding a long conference with one of these old sibyls behind a large tree in the avenue, and often looking round to see that she was not observed. I make no doubt that she was endeavouring to get some favourable²³ augury²⁴ about the result of her love quarrel with young Ready-Money, as oracles²⁵ have always been more consulted on love affairs than upon anything else. I fear, however, that in this instance the response was not so favourable as usual, for I perceived poor Phoebe returning pensively²⁶ towards the house; her head hanging down, her hat in her hand, and the riband trailing along the ground.
 
At another time, as I turned a corner of a terrace, at the bottom of the garden, just by a clump²⁷ of trees, and a large stone urn⁷, I came upon a bevy²⁸ of the young girls of the family, attended by this same Phoebe Wilkins. I was at a loss to comprehend the meaning of their blushing and giggling²⁹, and their apparent agitation³⁰, until I saw the red cloak of a gipsy vanishing among the shrubbery. A few moments after, I caught sight of Master Simon and the Oxonian stealing along one of the walks of the garden, chuckling³¹ and laughing at their successful waggery; having evidently put the gipsy up to the thing, and instructed her what to say.
 
 
A Gipsy Party 
After all, there is something strangely pleasing in these tamperings with the future, even where we are convinced of the fallacy of the prediction. It is singular how willingly the mind will half deceive itself, and with what a degree of awe³² we will listen even to these babblers about futurity. For my part, I cannot feel angry with these poor vagabonds that seek to deceive us into bright hopes and expectations. I have always been something of a castle-builder, an............