n this road until you arrive at
a lime-kiln, and wait there till I come."

He sprang over a stile, and took a direction verging at an angle from
the road, forced his way through a hedge, and disappeared from our
sight. "Upon my word, Timothy," said I, "I hardly know what to say to
this. Have we done right in trusting to this man, who, I am afraid! is
a great rogue? I do not much like mixing with these gipsy people, for
such I am sure he belongs to."

"I really do not see how we can do better," replied Timothy. "The world
is all before us, and we must force our own way through it. As for his
being a quack doctor, I see no great harm in that. People put their
faith in nostrums more than they do in regular medicines; and it is well
known that quack medicines, as they call them, cure as often as others,
merely for that very reason."

"Very true, Timothy; the mind once at ease, the body soon recovers, and
faith, even in quack medicines, will often make people whole; but do you
think that he does no more than impose upon people in that way?"

"He may, or he may not; at all events, we need do no more, I suppose."

"I am not sure of that; however, we shall see. He says we may be useful
to him, and I suppose we shall be, or he would not have engaged us--we
shall soon find out."

Chapter X

In which the reader is introduced to several new acquaintances, and
all connected with them, except birth and parentage, which appears
to be the one thing wanting throughout the whole of this work.

By this time we had arrived at the lime-kiln to which we had been
directed, and we sat down on our bundles, chatting for about five
minutes, when our new acquaintance made his appearance, with something
in his hand, tied up in a handkerchief.

"You may as well put your coats into your bundles, and put on these
frocks," said he, "you will appear better among us, and be better
received, for there is a _gathering_ now, and some of them are queer
customers. However, you have nothing to fear; when once you are with my
wife and me, you are quite safe; her little finger would protect you
from five hundred."

"Your wife! who, then, is she?" inquired I, as I put my head through the
smock frock.

"She is a great personage among the gipsies. She is, by descent, one of
the heads of the tribe, and none dare to disobey her."

"And you--are you a gipsy?"

"No, and yes. By birth I am not, but by choice, and marriage, I am
ad