eing exceedingly short; his waistcoat was of
red plush, and he wore broad corduroy breeches and white top-boots. The
steed which carried him was of iron grey, spirited and powerful, but
covered with sweat and foam. The fellow glanced fiercely and
suspiciously around, and said something to the man of the tent in a harsh
and rapid voice. A short and hurried conversation ensued in the strange
tongue. I could not take my eyes off this new comer. Oh, that
half-jockey half-bruiser countenance, I never forgot it! More than
fifteen years afterwards I found myself amidst a crowd before Newgate; a
gallows was erected, and beneath it stood a criminal, a notorious
malefactor. I recognised him at once; the horseman of the lane is now
beneath the fatal tree, but nothing altered; still the same man; jerking
his head to the right and left with the same fierce under-glance, just as
if the affairs of this world had the same kind of interest to the last;
grey coat of Newmarket cut, plush waistcoat, corduroys, and boots,
nothing altered; but the head, alas! is bare and so is the neck. Oh,
crime and virtue, virtue and crime!--it was old John Newton I think, who,
when he saw a man going to be hanged, said: 'There goes John Newton, but
for the grace of God!'

* * * * *

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. Nearly a ton weight of sweetmeats had been
prepared, at an enormous expense, not for the gratification of the
palate, but for a purpose purely Gypsy.