ious stanzas in the Gipsy tongue, which have plenty of
force if nothing else to recommend them. One of these, addressed to
Yocky Shuri, runs as follows:--

"Beneath the bright sun there is none,
There is none
I love like my Yocky Shuri;
With the greatest delight in blood I would fight
To the knees for my Yocky Shuri."

How much better and happier it would have been for this poor, hardened,
ignorant, old Gipsy, if, instead of indulging in such rubbish as he did
in the last hours of an idle and wasted life, he could, after a life
spent in doing good to the Gipsies and others over whom he had influence,
as the shades of the evening of life gathered round him, sung, from the
bottom of his heart--fetching tears to his eyes as it did mine a Sunday
or two ago--the following verses to the tune of "Belmont:"--

"When in the vale of lengthened years
My feeble feet shall tread,
And I survey the various scenes
Through which I have been led,

"How many mercies will my life
Before my view unfold!
What countless dangers will be past!
What tales of sorrow told!

"This scene will all my labours end,
This road conduct on high;
With comfort I'll review the past,
And triumph though I die."

On the first Sunday in February this year I found myself surrounded by a
black, thick London fog--almost as dense as the blackest midnight, and an
overpowering sense of suffocation creeping over me--in the midst of an
encampment of Gipsies at Canning Town, and, acting upon their kind
invitation, I crept into one of their tents, and there found about a
dozen Gipsy men of all sizes, ages, and complexions, squatting upon peg
shavings. Some of their faces looked full of intelligence and worthy of
a better vocation, and others seemed as if they had had the "cropper" at
work round their ears; so short was their hair that any one attempting to
"pull it up by the roots" would have a difficult task, unless he set to
it with his teeth. They looked to me as if several of them had worn
bright steel ornaments round their wrists and had danced at a county
ball, and done more stepping upon the wheel of fortune than many people
imagine; at any rate, they were quite happy in their way, and seemed
prepared for another turn round when needful. Their first salutation
was, "Well, governor, how are you? Sit you down and make yourself
comfortable, and let's have a c