I.

THE FESTIVAL--THE GYPSY SONG--PIRAMUS OF ROME--THE SCOTCHMAN--GYPSY
NAMES.

On the following day there was much feasting amongst the Romany chals of
Mr. Petulengro's party. Throughout the forenoon the Romany chies did
scarcely anything but cook flesh, and the flesh which they cooked was
swine's flesh. About two o'clock, the chals and chies dividing
themselves into various parties, sat down and partook of the fare, which
was partly roasted, partly sodden. I dined that day with Mr. Petulengro
and his wife and family, Ursula, Mr. and Mrs. Chikno, and Sylvester and
his two children. Sylvester, it will be as well to say, was a widower,
and had consequently no one to cook his victuals for him, supposing he
had any, which was not always the case, Sylvester's affairs being seldom
in a prosperous state. He was noted for his bad success in trafficking,
notwithstanding the many hints which he received from Jasper, under whose
protection he had placed himself, even as Tawno Chikno had done, who
himself, as the reader has heard on a former occasion, was anything but a
wealthy subject, though he was at all times better off than Sylvester,
the Lazarus of the Romany tribe.

All our party ate with a good appetite, except myself, who, feeling
rather melancholy that day, had little desire to eat. I did not, like
the others, partake of the pork, but got my dinner entirely off the body
of a squirrel which had been shot the day before by a chal of the name of
Piramus, who, besides being a good shot, was celebrated for his skill in
playing on the fiddle. During the dinner a horn filled with ale passed
frequently around, I drank of it more than once, and felt inspirited by
the draughts. The repast concluded, Sylvester and his children departed
to their tent, and Mr. Petulengro, Tawno, and myself getting up, went and
lay down under a shady hedge, where Mr. Petulengro, lighting his pipe,
began to smoke, and where Tawno presently fell asleep. I was about to
fall asleep also, when I heard the sound of music and song. Piramus was
playing on the fiddle, whilst Mrs. Chikno, who had a voice of her own,
was singing in tones sharp enough, but of great power, a gypsy song:--

POISONING THE PORKER.
BY MRS. CHIKNO.

To mande shoon ye Romany chals
Who besh in the pus about the yag,
I'll pen how we drab the baulo,
I'll pen how we drab the baulo.

We jaws to the drab-engro ker,
Trin horsworth there of drab we l