elieve in fortunes.'

'Grondinni,' said Mr. Petulengro, 'it haileth. I believe in dukkeripens,
brother.'

'And who has more right,' said I; 'seeing that you live by them? But
this tempest is truly horrible.'

'Dearginni, grondinni ta villaminni! It thundreth, it haileth, and also
flameth,' said Mr. Petulengro. 'Look up there, brother!'

I looked up. Connected with this tempest there was one feature to which
I have already alluded--the wonderful colours of the clouds. Some were
of vivid green; others of the brightest orange; others as black as pitch.
The gypsy's finger was pointed to a particular part of the sky.

'What do you see there, brother?'

'A strange kind of cloud.'

'What does it look like, brother?'

'Something like a stream of blood.'

'That cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.'

'A bloody fortune!' said I. 'And whom may it betide?'

'Who knows!' said the gypsy.

Down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and cart
to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking
steeds, with postilions in scarlet jackets and leather skull caps. Two
forms were conspicuous in it; that of the successful bruiser, and of his
friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance.

'His!' said the gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern features wore
a smile of triumph, as, probably recognising me in the crowd, he nodded
in the direction of where I stood, as the barouche hurried by.

There went the barouche, dashing through the rain-gushes, and in it one
whose boast it was that he was equal to 'either fortune.' Many have
heard of that man--many may be desirous of knowing yet more of him. I
have nothing to do with that man's after life--he fulfilled his
dukkeripen. 'A bad, violent man!' Softly, friend; when thou wouldst
speak harshly of the dead, remember that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy
own dukkeripen!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MY FATHER--PREMATURE DECAY--THE EASY-CHAIR--A FEW QUESTIONS--SO YOU TOLD
ME--A DIFFICULT LANGUAGE--THEY CALL IT HAIK--MISUSED
OPPORTUNITIES--SAUL--WANT OF CANDOUR--DON'T WEEP--HEAVEN FORGIVE
ME--DATED FROM PARIS--I WISH HE WERE HERE--A FATHER'S
REMINISCENCES--VANITIES

My father, as I have already informed the reader, had been endowed by
nature with great corporeal strength; indeed, I have been assured that,
at the period of his prime, his figure had denoted the possession of
almost Herculean powers. The strongest