bearing the name of Isopel Berners,
who now comes on the scene, and who will ever remain one of the most
fascinating figures in the wonderful gallery of Borrovian characters.

"I never saw such a face and figure," exclaims Borrow, "both regal--why,
you look like Ingeborg, Queen of Norway; she had twelve brothers, you
know, and could lick them all, though they were heroes--

"'On Dovrefeld in Norway,
Were once together seen,
The twelve heroic brothers
Of Ingeborg the queen.'"

(See "Romantic Ballads," p. 59.)

In Chapter XV. of "The Romany Rye," Borrow thus describes the last
farewell to Belle, as he called her: "I found the Romany party waiting
for me, and everything in readiness for departing. Mr. Petulengro and
Tawno Chikno were mounted on two old horses. The rest, who intended to
go to the fair, amongst whom were two or three women, were on foot. On
arriving at the extremity of the plain, I looked towards the dingle.
Isopel Berners stood at the mouth, the beams of the early morning sun
shone full on her noble face and figure. I waved my hand towards her.
She slowly lifted up her right arm. I turned away, and never saw Isopel
Berners again."

This little book, concerned chiefly with Norwich, cannot follow the
wayfarings of Borrow, so enchantingly described in "Lavengro" and "The
Romany Rye," in chapters which justify to the full Mr. Birrell's
enthusiastic admiration when he wrote: "The delightful, the bewitching,
the never sufficiently to be praised George Borrow--Borrow, the Friend of
Man, at whose bidding lassitude and languor strike their tents and flee;
and health and spirits, adventure and human comradeship, take up the
reins of life, whistle to the horses and away you go!"

It is much to be hoped that the Borrow Celebration, to which this booklet
is a modest contribution, may lead to a warmer appreciation in Norwich of
one of the greatest men who ever trod her streets. "The Romany Rye" has
a thoroughly Borrovian ending, much in the manner of Sterne, as many of
Borrow's passages are. His pilgrimage of tinkering and adventurous
vagrancy between May and August, 1825, came to an end at Boston--"a large
town, situate at the entrance of an extensive firth"--where a recruiting
sergeant wished to enlist him for the service of the Honourable East
India Company. But his references to Petulengro and Tawno Chikno
disgusted the soldier, who excla