During one of his standstills I heard him with tears in his eyes saying to himself, “Shall I put the load down? Yes, I think I will;” and then he summoned up strength and courage and said, “No! no! I won’t put it down till I’ve either carried it to where I want to carry it or die in the attempt.”
Presently he staggered and fell heavily with his burden upon the sod. He lay for a few minutes without any one noticing him. After he had lain for some time a crowd began to gather round him. Some said, with a chuckle and a grin, “He’s dead, thank God! We’ve done with him, thank God! and hope he has got into a warm place.” Three or four gentlemen pressed through the crowd to look at the old man; and as they were going among the bystanders I heard them say to each other, “If he shows signs of life we will give him a lift, but if he is going to die we will have nothing to do with him. Let those see to him who like, we will leave him to his fate, be it rough or smooth.” Like the priests and Levites of old, they went on the other side.
Among the crowds in the ditches I noticed an old _posh_ gipsy woman from South Carolina Street, with basket in hand picking up wasps, newts, and weasels. One of the gentlemen noticed what she was doing, and questioned her as to her movements and intentions. She replied as follows, “You will see what I am going to do with them when I have gathered my basketful. I hold in my pocket a bottle containing some mixture that when once it is applied to the basket will cause them to buzz, sting, and poison fearfully. For the matter of that a few others will help to do the same thing; and when this is done I am going to empty them upon the poor devil’s head to either poison or sting him to death. Several here tried to do it before, but they were fools and did not go the right way to work.” One gentleman said, “Has the poor fellow ever done you any harm or wronged you in any way?” “Well, I don’t know that he has, but I and a few others want to see the end of him.”
She filled her basket, and applied the mixture to the wasps, newts, and weasels, and just as she was going to empty them upon the head of the poor fellow, about dying, they turned and settled upon her own pate, and away she went out of the crowd, and I have not seen her since. By the side of the poor fellow lay a small bag of seeds which were to grow bread, clothes, and comfort, which a few friends had collected to help the old man on his journey. It was not long by the side of the old pilgrim before up stepped a little dodger who had taken to gipsying, named Philip Lamb, from Russia, who seized the small bag and off he scampered. The last I saw of him was that he was tramping the country with patches upon his breeches.