There is a great deal of what is wild and barbarous attached to
these festivals. I shall never forget a particular one at which I
was present. After much feasting, drinking, and yelling, in the
Gypsy house, the bridal train sallied forth - a frantic spectacle.
First of all marched a villainous jockey-looking fellow, holding in
his hands, uplifted, a long pole, at the top of which fluttered in
the morning air a snow-white cambric handkerchief, emblem of the
bride's purity. Then came the betrothed pair, followed by their
nearest friends; then a rabble rout of Gypsies, screaming and
shouting, and discharging guns and pistols, till all around rang
with the din, and the village dogs barked. On arriving at the
church gate, the fellow who bore the pole stuck it into the ground
with a loud huzza, and the train, forming two ranks, defiled into
the church on either side of the pole and its strange ornaments.
On the conclusion of the ceremony, they returned in the same manner
in which they had come.
Throughout the day there was nothing going on but singing,
drinking, feasting, and dancing; but the most singular part of the
festival was reserved for the dark night.
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