CHAPTER X. GIPSIES IN EGYPT.

Difficulty of obtaining Information.--The Khedive on the Gipsies.--Mr

Edward Elias.--Mahomet introduces me to the Gipsies.--They call

themselves Tataren.--The Rhagarin or Gipsies at Boulac.--Cophts.--Herr

Seetzen on Egyptian Gipsies.--The Gipsy with the Monkey in Cairo.--Street-

cries of the Gipsy Women in Egypt. Captain Newbold on the Egyptian

Gipsies.

Since writing the foregoing pages, and only a day or two after one of the

incidents therein described, I went to Egypt, passing the winter in Cairo

and on the Nile. While waiting in the city for the friend with whom I

was to ascend the mysterious river, it naturally occurred to me, that as

I was in the country which many people still believe is the original land

of the Gipsies, it would be well worth my while to try to meet with some,

if any were to be found.

It is remarkable, that notwithstanding my inquiries from many gentlemen,

both native and foreign, including savans and beys, the only educated

person I ever met in Egypt who was able to give me any information on the

subject of its Gipsies was the Khedive or Viceroy himself, a fact which

will not seem strange to those who are aware of the really wonderful

extent of his knowledge of the country which he rules. I had been but a

few days in Cairo when, at an interview with the Khedive, Mr Beardsley,

the American Consul, by whom I was presented, mentioned to his Highness

that I was interested in the subject of the Gipsies, upon which the

Khedive said that there were in Egypt many people known as "_Rhagarin_"

(Ghagarin), who were probably the same as the "Bohemiens" or Gipsies of

Europe. His words were, as nearly as I can remember, as follows:--

"They are wanderers who live in tents, and are regarded with contempt

even by the peasantry. Their women tell fortunes, tattoo, {189} and sell

small-wares; the men work in iron (_quincaillerie_). They are all adroit

thieves, and noted as such. The men may sometimes be seen going around

the country with monkeys; in fact, they appear to be in all respects the

same people as the Gipsies of Europe."

This was all that I could learn for several days; for though there were

Gipsies--or "Egypcians"--in Egypt, I had almost as much trouble to find

them as Eilert Sundt had to discover their brethren in Norway. In

speaking of the subject to Mr Edward Elias, a gentleman well known in

Egypt, he most kindly undertook to secure the aid of the chief of police,

who in turn had recourse to the Shekh of the Gipsies. But the Shekh I

was told was not himself a Gipsy, and there were none of his subjects in

Cairo. After a few days, three wanderers, supposed to be Rommany, were

arrested; but on examination they proved to be ignorant of any language

except Arabic. Their occupation was music and dancing "with a stick;" in

fact, they were performers in those curious and extremely ancient

Fescennine farces, or _Atellanae_, which are depicted on ancient vases,

and are still acted on the roads in Egypt as they were in Greece before

the days of Thespis. Then I was informed that Gipsies were often

encamped near the Pyramids, but research in this direction was equally

fruitless.

Remembering what his Highness had told me, that Gipsies went about

exhibiting monkeys, I one day, on meeting a man bearing an ape,

endeavoured to enter into conversation with him. Those who know Cairo

can imagine with what result! In an instant we were surrounded by fifty

natives of the lower class, jabbering, jeering, screaming, and

begging--all intent, as it verily seemed, on defeating my object. I gave

the monkey-bearer money; instead of thanking me, he simply clamoured for

more, while the mob became intolerable, so that I was glad to make my

escape.

At last I was successful. I had frequently employed as donkey-driver an

intelligent and well-behaved man named Mahomet, who spoke English well,

and who was familiar with the byways of Cairo. On asking him if he could

show me any Rhagarin, he replied that every Saturday there was a fair or

market held at Boulac, where I would be sure to meet with women of the

tribe. The men, I was told, seldom ventured into the city, because they

were subject to much insult and ill-treatment from the common people. On

the day appointed I rode to the market, which was extremely interesting.

There were thousands of blue-shirted and red-tarbouched or white-turbaned

Egyptians, buying or selling, or else merely amusing themselves; dealers

in sugar-cane, pipe-pedlars, and vendors of rosaries; jugglers and

minstrels. At last we came to a middle-aged woman seated on the ground

behind a basket containing beads, glass armlets, and similar trinkets.

She was dressed like any Arab woman of the lower class, but was not

veiled, and on her chin blue lines were tattooed. Her features and whole

expression were, however, evidently Gipsy.

I spoke to her in Rommany, using such words as would have been

intelligible to any of the race in England, Germany, or Turkey; but she

did not understand me, and declared that she could speak nothing but

Arabic. At my request Mahomet explained to her that I had travelled from

a distant country in "Orobba," where there were many Rhagarin who

declared that their fathers came from Egypt, and that I wished to know if

any in the latter country could speak the old language. She replied that

the Rhagarin of "Montesinos" could still speak it, but that her people in

Egypt had lost the tongue. Mahomet declared that Montesinos meant Mount

Sinai or Syria. I then asked her if the Rhagarin had no peculiar name

for themselves, and she replied, "Yes, we call ourselves Tataren."

This was at least satisfactory. All over Southern Germany and in Norway

the Rommany are sailed Tataren; and though the word means Tartars, and is

simply a misapplied term, it indicates a common race. The woman seemed

to be very much gratified at the interest I manifested in her people. I

gave her a double piastre, and asked for its value in blue-glass armlets.

She gave me two pair, and as I turned to depart called me back, and with

a good-natured smile handed me four more as a present. This generosity

was very Gipsy-like, and very unlike the usual behaviour of any common

Egyptian.

While on the Nile, I inquired of people in different towns if they had

ever seen Gipsies where they lived, and was invariably answered in the

negative. Remembering to have read in some book a statement that the

Ghawazi or dancing-girls formed a tribe by themselves, and spoke a

peculiar language, I asked an American who has lived for many years in

Egypt if he thought they could be Gipsies. He replied that an English

lady of title, who had also been for a long time in the country, had

formed this opinion. But when I questioned dancing-girls myself, I found

them quite ignorant of any language except Arabic, and knowing nothing

relating to the Rommany. Two Ghawazi whom I saw had, indeed, the

peculiarly brilliant eyes and general expression of Gipsies. The rest

appeared to be Egyptian-Arab; and I found on inquiry that one of the

latter had really been a peasant girl who till within seven months had

worked in the fields, while two others were occupied alternately with

field-work and dancing.

At the market in Boulac, Mahomet took me to a number of _Rhagarin_. They

all resembled the one whom I have described, and were all occupied in

selling exactly the same class of articles. They all differed slightly,

as I thought, from the ordinary Egyptians in their appearance, and were

decidedly unlike them, in being neither importunate for money nor

disagreeable in their manners. But though they were certainly Gipsies,

none of them would speak Rommany, and I doubt very much if they could

have done so.

Bonaventura Vulcanius, who in 1597 first gave the world a specimen of

Rommany in his curious book "De Literis et Lingua Getarum" (which

specimen, by the way, on account of its rarity, I propose to republish in

another work), believed that the Gipsies were Nubians; and others,

following in his track, supposed they were really Cophtic Christians

(Pott, "Die Zigeuner," &c., Halle, 1844, p. 5). And I must confess that

this recurred forcibly to my memory when, at Minieh, in Egypt, I asked a

Copht scribe if he were Muslim, and he replied, "_La_, _ana Gipti_" ("No,

I am a Copht"), pronouncing the word _Gipti_, or Copht, so that it might

readily be taken for "Gipsy." And learning that _romi_ is the Cophtic

for a man, I was again startled; and when I found _tema_ (tem, land) and

other Rommany words in ancient Egyptian (_vide_ Brugsch, "Grammaire,"

&c.), it seemed as if there were still many mysteries to solve in this

strange language.

Other writers long before me attempted to investigate Egyptian Gipsy, but

with no satisfactory result. A German named Seetzen ascertained that

there were Gipsies both in Egypt and Syria, and wrote (1806) on the

subject a MS., which Pott ("Die Zigeuner," &c.) cites largely. Of these

Roms he speaks as follows: "Gipsies are to be found in the entire Osmanli

realm, from the limits of Hungary into Egypt. The Turks call them

Tschinganih; but the Syrians and Egyptians, as well as themselves,

_Nury_, in the plural _El Nauar_. It was on the 24th November 1806 when

I visited a troop of them, encamped with their black tents in an olive

grove, to the west side of Naplos. They were for the greater part of a

dirty yellow complexion, with black hair, which hung down on the side

from where it was parted in a short plait, and their lips are mulatto-

like." (Seetzen subsequently remarks that their physiognomy is precisely

like that of the modern Egyptians.) "The women had their under lips

coloured dark blue, like female Bedouins, and a few eaten-in points

around the mouth of like colour. They, and the boys also, wore earrings.

They made sieves of horse-hair or of leather, iron nails, and similar

small ironware, or mended kettles. They appear to be very poor, and the

men go almost naked, unless the cold compels them to put on warmer

clothing. The little boys ran about naked. Although both Christians and

Mahometans declared that they buried their dead in remote hill corners,

or burned them, they denied it, and declared they were good Mahometans,

and as such buried their dead in Mahometan cemeteries." (This

corresponds to their custom in Great Britain in the past generation, and

the earnestness which they display at present to secure regular burial

like Christians.) "But as their instruction is even more neglected than

that of the Bedouins, their religious information is so limited that one

may say of them, they have either no religion at all, or the simplest of

all. As to wine, they are less strict than most Mahometans. They

assured me that in Egypt there were many _Nury_."

The same writer obtained from one of these Syrian-Egyptian Gipsies a not

inconsiderable vocabulary of their language, and says: "I find many

Arabic, Turkish, and some Greek words in it; it appears to me, however,

that they have borrowed from a fourth language, which was perhaps their

mother-tongue, but which I cannot name, wanting dictionaries." The words

which he gives appear to me to consist of Egyptian-Arabic, with its usual

admixture from other sources, simply made into a gibberish, and sometimes

with one word substituted for another to hide the meaning--the whole

probably obtained through a dragoman, as is seen, for instance, when he

gives the word _nisnaszeha_, a fox, and states that it is of unknown

origin. The truth is, _nisnas_ means a monkey, and, like most of

Seetzen's "Nuri" words, is inflected with an _a_ final, as if one should

say "monkeyo." I have no doubt the Nauar may talk such a jargon; but I

should not be astonished, either, if the Shekh who for a small pecuniary

consideration eagerly aided Seetzen to note it down, had "sold" him with

what certainly would appear to any Egyptian to be the real babble of the

nursery. There are a very few Rommany words in this vocabulary, but then

it should be remembered that there are some Arabic words in Rommany.

The street-cry of the Gipsy women in Cairo is [ARABIC TEXT which cannot

be reproduced] "_Neduqq wanetahir_!" "We tattoo and circumcise!" a

phrase which sufficiently indicates their calling. In the "Deutscher

Dragoman" of Dr Philip Wolff, Leipzig, 1867, I find the following under

the word Zigeuner:--

"Gipsy--in Egypt, Gagri" (pronounced more nearly 'Rh'agri), "plural

_Gagar_; in Syria, _Newari_, plural _Nawar_. When they go about with

monkeys, they are called _Kurudati_, from _kird_, ape. The Gipsies of

Upper Egypt call themselves Saaideh--_i.e_., people from Said, or Upper

Egypt (_vide_ Kremer, i. 138-148). According to Von Gobineau, they are

called in Syria Kurbati, [ARABIC TEXT which cannot be reproduced] (_vide_

'Zeitschrift der D. M. G.,' xi. 690)."

More than this of the Gipsies in Egypt the deponent sayeth not. He has

interrogated the oracles, and they were dumb. That there are Roms in the

land of Mizr his eyes have shown, but whether any of them can talk

Rommany is to him as yet unknown.

* * * * *

Since the foregoing was printed, I have found in the _Journal of the

Royal Asiatic Society_ (Vol. XVI., Part 2, 1856, p. 285), an article on

The Gipsies in Egypt, by the late Captain Newbold, F.R.S., which gives

much information on this mysterious subject. The Egyptian Gipsies, as

Captain Newbold found, are extremely jealous and suspicious of any

inquiry into their habits and mode of life, so that he had great

difficulty in tracing them to their haunts, and inducing them to

unreserved communication.

These Gipsies are divided into three kinds, the Helebis, Ghagars

(Rhagarin), and Nuris or Nawer. Of the Rhagars there are sixteen

thousand. The Helebi are most prosperous of all these, and their women,

who are called Fehemis, are the only ones who practice fortune-telling

and sorcery. The male Helebis are chiefly ostensible dealers in horses

and cattle, but have a bad character for honesty. Some of them are to be

found in every official department in Egypt, though not known to be

Gipsies--(a statement which casts much light on the circumstance that

neither the chief of police himself nor the Shekh of the Rhagarin, with

all their alleged efforts, could find a single Gipsy for me). The

Helebis look down on the Rhagarin, and do not suffer their daughters to

intermarry with them, though they themselves marry Rhagarin girls. The

Fehemi, or Helebi women, are noted for their chastity; the Rhagarin are

not. The men of the Rhagarin are tinkers and blacksmiths, and sell cheap

jewellery or instruments of iron and brass. Many of them are athletes,

mountebanks, and monkey-exhibitors; the women are rope-dancers and

musicians. They are divided into classes, bearing the names of Romani,

Meddahin, Ghurradin, Barmeki (Barmecides), Waled Abu Tenna, Beit er

Rafai, Hemmeli, &c. The Helebis and Rhagarin are distinctly different in

their personal appearance from the other inhabitants of Egypt, having the

eyes and expression peculiar to all Gipsies. Captain Newbold, in fact,

assumes that any person "who remains in Egypt longer than the ordinary

run of travellers, and roams about the streets and environs of the large

towns, can hardly fail to notice the strange appearance of certain

females, whose features at once distinguish them from the ordinary Fellah

Arabs and Cophts of the country."

"The Nuris or Nawers are hereditary thieves, but are now (1856) employed

as police and watchmen in the Pacha's country estates. In Egypt they

intermarry with the Fellahin or Arabs of the soil, from whom, in physical

appearance and dress, they can hardly be distinguished. Outwardly they

profess Mohammedanism, and have little intercourse with the Helebis and

Ghagars (or Rhagarin)."

Each of these tribes or classes speak a separate and distinct dialect or

jargon. That of the Rhagarin most resembles the language spoken by the

Kurbats, or Gipsies of Syria. "It seems to me probable," says Captain

Newbold, "that the whole of these tribes had one common origin in India,

or the adjacent countries on its Western frontier, and that the

difference in the jargons they now speak is owing to their sojourn in the

various countries through which they have passed. _This is certain_,

_that the Gipsies are strangers in the land of Egypt_."

I am not astonished, on examining the specimens of these three dialects

given by Captain Newbold, with the important addition made by Mr W.

Burckhardt Barker, that I could not converse with the Rhagarin. That of

the Nawers does not contain a single word which would be recognised as

Rommany, while those which occur in the other two jargons are, if not

positively either few and far between, strangely distorted from the

original. A great number are ordinary vulgar Arabic. It is very curious

that while in England such a remarkably large proportion of Hindustani

words have been preserved, they have been lost in the East, in countries

comparatively near the fatherland--India.

I would, in conclusion to this work, remark that numbers of Rommany

words, which are set down by philologists as belonging to Greek,

Slavonian, and other languages, were originally Hindu, and have only

changed their form a little because the wanderers found a resemblance to

the old word in a new one. I am also satisfied that much may be learned

as to the origin of these words from a familiar acquaintance with the

vulgar dialects of Persia, and such words as are not put down in

dictionaries, owing to their provincial character. I have found, on

questioning a Persian gentleman, that he knew the meaning of many Rommany

words from their resemblance to vulgar Persian, though they were not in

the Persian dictionary which I used.

ROMMANI GUDLI; OR, GIPSY STORIES AND FABLES.

The Gipsy to whom I was chiefly indebted for the material of this book

frequently narrated to me the _Gudli_ or small stories current among his

people, and being a man of active, though child-like imagination, often

invented others of a similar character. Sometimes an incident or saying

would suggest to me the outline of a narrative, upon which he would

eagerly take it up, and readily complete the tale. But if I helped him

sometimes to evolve from a hint, a phrase, or a fact, something like a

picture, it was always the Gipsy who gave it Rommany characteristics and

conferred colour. It was often very difficult for him to distinctly

recall an old story or clearly develop anything of the kind, whether it

involved an effort of memory or of the imagination, and here he required

aid. I have never in my life met with any man whose mind combined so

much simplicity, cunning, and grotesque fancy, with such an entire

incapacity to appreciate either humour or "poetry" as expressed in the

ordinary language of culture. The metre and rhyme of the simplest ballad

made it unintelligible to him, and I was obliged to repeat such poetry

several times before he could comprehend it. Yet he would, while I was

otherwise occupied than with him, address to his favourite wooden image

of a little bear on the chimneypiece, grotesque soliloquies which would

have delighted a Hoffman, or conduct with it dialogues which often

startled me. With more education, he would have become a Rommany Bid-

pai; and since India is the fatherland of the fable, he may have derived

his peculiar faculty for turning morals and adorning tales legitimately

from that source.

I may state that those stories, which were made entirely; as a few were;

or in part, by my assistant and myself, were afterwards received with

approbation by ordinary Gipsies as being thoroughly Rommany. As to the

_language_ of the stories, it is all literally and faithfully that of a

Gipsy, word by word, written down as he uttered it, when, after we had

got a _gudlo_ into shape, he told it finally over, which he invariably

did with great eagerness, ending with an improvised moral.

GUDLO I. HOW A GIPSY SAVED A CHILD'S LIFE BY BREAKING A WINDOW.

'Pre yeck divvus (or yeckorus) a Rommany chal was kairin' pyass with the

koshters, an' he wussered a kosh 'pre the hev of a boro ker an' poggered

it. Welled the prastramengro and penned, "Tu must pooker (or pessur) for

the glass." But when they jawed adree the ker, they lastered the kosh

had mullered a divio juckal that was jawan' to dant the chavo. So the

rani del the Rommany chal a sonnakai ora an' a fino gry.

But yeck koshter that poggers a hev doesn't muller a juckal.

TRANSLATION.

On a day (or once) a Gipsy was playing at cockshy, and he threw a stick

through the window of a great house and broke the glass. Came the

policeman and said, "You must answer (or pay) for the glass." But when

they went into the house, they found the stick had killed a mad dog that

was going to bite the child (boy). So the lady gave the Gipsy a gold

watch and a good horse.

But every stick that breaks a window does not kill a dog.

GUDLO II. THE GIPSY STORY OF THE BIRD AND THE HEDGEHOG.

'Pre yeck divvus a hotchewitchi dicked a chillico adree the puv, and the

chillico pukkered lesco, "Mor jal pauli by the kushto wastus, or the

hunters' graias will chiv tute adree the chick, mullo; an' if you jal the

waver rikk by the bongo wast, dovo's a Rommany tan adoi, and the Rommany

chals will haw tute." Penned the hotchewitchi, "I'd rather jal with the

Rommany chals, an' be hawed by foki that kaum mandy, than be pirraben

apre by chals that dick kaulo apre mandy."

It's kushtier for a tacho Rom to be mullered by a Rommany pal than to be

nashered by the Gorgios.

TRANSLATION.

On a day a hedgehog met a bird in the field, and the bird told him, "Do

not go around by the right hand, or the hunters' horses will trample you

dead in the dirt; and if you go around by the left hand, there's a Gipsy

tent, and the Gipsies will eat you." Said the hedgehog, "I'd rather go

with the Gipsies, and be eaten by folk that like me, than be trampled on

by people that despise (literally, look black upon) me."

It is better for a real Gipsy to be killed by a Gipsy brother than to be

hung by Gorgios.

GUDLO III. A STORY OF A FORTUNE-TELLER.

Yeckorus a tano Gorgio chivved apre a shubo an' jalled to a puri Rommany

dye to get dukkered. And she pookered lester, "Tute'll rummorben a Fair

Man with kauli yakkas." Then the raklo delled laki yeck shukkori an'

penned, "If this shukkori was as boro as the hockaben tute pukkered

mandy, tute might porder sar the bongo tem with rupp." But, hatch a

wongish!--maybe in a divvus, maybe in a curricus, maybe a dood, maybe a

besh, maybe waver divvus, he rummorbend a rakli by the nav of Fair Man,

and her yakkas were as kaulo as miri juva's.

There's always dui rikk to a dukkerben.

TRANSLATION.

Once a little Gorgio put on a woman's gown and went to an old Gipsy

mother to have his fortune told. And she told him, "You'll marry a Fair

Man with black eyes." Then the young man gave her a sixpence and said,

"If this sixpence were as big as the lie you told me, you could fill all

hell with silver." But, stop a bit! after a while--maybe in a week,

maybe a month, maybe in a year, maybe the other day--he married a girl by

the name of Fair Man, and her eyes were as black as my sweetheart's.

There are always two sides to a prediction.

GUDLO IV. HOW THE ROYSTON ROOK DECEIVED THE ROOKS AND PIGEONS.

'Pre yeck divvus a Royston rookus jalled mongin the kaulo chiriclos, an'

they putched (pootschered) him, "Where did tute chore tiro pauno chukko?"

And yuv pookered, "Mandy chored it from a biksherro of a pigeon." Then

he jalled a-men the pigeons an' penned, "Sarishan, pals?" And they

putched lesti, "Where did tute lel akovo kauli rokamyas te byascros?" And

yuv penned, "Mandy chored 'em from those wafri mushis the rookuses."

Pash-ratis pen their kokeros for Gorgios mongin Gorgios, and for Rommany

mongin Rommany chals.

TRANSLATION.

On a day a Royston rook {206} went among the crows (black birds), and

they asked him, "Where did you steal your white coat?" And he told

(them), "I stole it from a fool of a pigeon." Then he went among the

pigeons and said, "How are you, brothers?" And they asked him, "Where

did you get those black trousers and sleeves?" And he said, "I stole 'em

from those wretches the rooks."

Half-breeds call themselves Gorgio among Gorgios, and Gipsy among

Gipsies.

GUDLO V. THE GIPSY'S STORY OF THE GORGIO AND THE ROMMANY CHAL.

Once 'pre a chairus (or chyrus) a Gorgio penned to a Rommany chal, "Why

does tute always jal about the tem ajaw? There's no kushtoben in what

don't hatch acai." Penned the Rommany chal, "Sikker mandy tute's

wongur!" And yuv sikkered him a cutter (cotter?), a bar, a pash-bar, a

pash-cutter, a pange-cullo (caulor?) bittus, a pash-krooner (korauna), a

dui-cullos bittus, a trin-mushi, a shuckori, a stor'oras, a trin'oras, a

dui'oras, a haura, a poshero, a lulli, a pash-lulli. Penned the Rommany

chal, "Acovo's sar wafri wongur." "Kek," penned the Gorgio; "se sar

kushto an' kirus. Chiv it adree tute's wast and shoon it ringus." "Avo,"

penned the Rommany chal. "Tute pookered mandy that only wafri covvas

keep jallin', te 'covo wongur has jalled sar 'pre the 'tem adusta timei

(or timey)."

Sar mushis aren't all sim ta rukers (rukkers.) Some must pirraben, and

can't besh't a lay.

TRANSLATION.

Once upon a time a Gorgio said to a Gipsy, "Why do you always go about

the country so? There is 'no good' in what does not rest (literally,

stop here)." Said the Gipsy, "Show me your money!" And he showed him a

guinea, a sovereign, a half-sovereign, a half-guinea, a five-shilling

piece, a half-crown, a two-shilling piece, a shilling, a sixpence, a

fourpenny piece, a threepence, a twopence, a penny, a halfpenny, a

farthing, a half-farthing. Said the Gipsy, "This is all bad money."

"No," said the other man; "it is all good and sound. Toss it in your

hand and hear it ring!" "Yes," replied the Gipsy. "You told me that

only bad things _keep going_, and this money has gone all over the

country many a time."

All men are not like trees. Some must travel, and cannot keep still.

GUDLO VI. HOW THE GIPSY BRIBED THE POLICEMAN.

Once apre a chairus a Rommany chal chored a rani chillico (or chiriclo),

and then jalled atut a prastramengro 'pre the drum. "Where did tute

chore adovo rani?" putchered the prastramengro. "It's kek rani; it's a

pauno rani that I kinned 'dree the gav to del tute." "Tacho," penned the

prastramengro, "it's the kushtiest pauno rani mandy ever dickdus. Ki did

tute kin it?"

Avali, many's the chairus mandy's tippered a trinmushi to a prastramengro

ta mukk mandy hatch my tan with the chavvis.

TRANSLATION.

Once on a time a Gipsy stole a turkey, and then met a policeman on the

road. "Where did you steal that turkey?" asked the policeman. "It's no

turkey; it's a goose that I bought in the town to give you." "Fact,"

said the policeman, "it _is_ the finest goose I ever saw. Where _did_

you buy it?"

Yes, many's the time I have given a shilling (three fourpence) to a

policeman to let me pitch my tent with the children. {209}

GUDLO VII. HOW A GIPSY LOST THREEPENCE.

Yeckorus a choro mush besht a lay ta kair trin horras-worth o' peggi for

a masengro. There jessed alang's a rye, who penned, "Tool my gry, an'

I'll del tute a shukori." While he tooled the gry a rani pookered him,

"Rikker this trushni to my ker, an' I'll del tute a trin grushi." So he

lelled a chavo to tool the gry, and pookered lester, "Tute shall get pash

the wongur." Well, as yuv was rikkinin' the trushnee an' siggerin burry

ora bender the drum, he dicked a rye, who penned, "If tute'll jaw to the

ker and hatch minni's juckal ta mandy, mi'll del tute a pash-korauna." So

he got a waver chavo to rikker the trushnee for pash the wongur, whilst

he jalled for the juckal. Wellin' alangus, he dicked a barvelo givescro,

who penned, "'Avacai an' husker mandy to lel my guruvni (_gruvni_) avree

the ditch, and I'll del you pange cullos" (caulos). So he lelled it. But

at the kunsus of the divvus, sa yuv sus kennin apre sustis wongurs, he

penned, "How wafro it is mandy nashered the trinoras I might have lelled

for the mass-koshters!"

A mush must always pet the giv in the puv before he can chin the harvest.

TRANSLATION.

Once a poor man sat down to make threepence-worth of skewers {210} for a

butcher. There came along a gentleman, who said, "Hold my horse, and

I'll give you a sixpence." While he held the horse a lady said to him,

"Carry this basket to my house, and I'll give you a shilling." So he got

a boy to hold the horse, and said to him, "You shall have half the

money." Well, as he was carrying the basket and hurrying along fast

across the road he saw a gentleman, who said, "If you'll go to the house

and bring my dog to me, I will give you half-a-crown." So he got another

boy to carry the basket for half the money, while he went for the dog.

Going along, he saw a rich farmer, who said, "Come and help me here to

get my cow out of the ditch, and I'll give you five shillings." So he

got it. But at the end of the day, when he was counting his money, he

said, "What a pity it is I lost the threepence I might have got for the

skewers!" (literally, meat-woods.)

A man must always put the grain in the ground before he can cut the

harvest.

GUDLO VIII. THE STORY OF THE GIPSY'S DOG.

'Pre yeck divvus a choro mush had a juckal that used to chore covvas and

hakker them to the ker for his mush--mass, wongur, horas, and rooys. A

rye kinned the juckal, an' kaired boot dusta wongur by sikkerin' the

juckal at wellgooras.

Where barvelo mushis can kair wongur tacho, chori mushis have to loure.

TRANSLATION.

On a day a poor man had a dog that used to steal things and carry them

home for his master--meat, money, watches, and spoons. A gentleman

bought the dog, and made a great deal of money by showing him at fairs.

Where rich men can make money honestly, poor men have to steal.

GUDLO IX. A STORY OF THE PRIZE-FIGHTER AND THE GENTLEMAN.

'Pre yeck chairus a cooromengro was to coor, and a rye rakkered him,

"Will tute mukk your kokero be koored for twenty bar?" Penned the

cooromengro, "Will tute mukk mandy pogger your herry for a hundred bar?"

"Kek," penned the rye; "for if I did, mandy'd never pirro kushto ajaw."

"And if I nashered a kooraben," penned the engro, "mandy'd never praster

kekoomi."

Kammoben is kushtier than wongur.

TRANSLATION.

On a time a prize-fighter was to fight, and a gentleman asked him, "Will

you sell the fight" (_i.e_., let yourself be beaten) "for twenty pounds?"

Said the prize-fighter, "Will you let me break your leg for a hundred

pounds?" "No," said the gentleman; "for if I did, I should never walk

well again." "And if I lost a fight," said the prize-fighter (literally,

master, doer), "I could never 'run' again."

Credit is better than money.

GUDLO X. OF THE GENTLEMAN AND THE OLD GIPSY WOMAN.

Pre yeck chairus a Rommany dye adree the wellgooro rakkered a rye to del

laker trin mushi for kushto bak. An' he del it, an' putchered laki, "If

I bitcher my wongur a-mukkerin' 'pre the graias, ki'll manni's bak be?"

"My fino rye," she penned, "the bak'll be a collos-worth with mandy and

my chavvis."

Bak that's pessured for is saw (sar) adoi.

TRANSLATION.

On a time a Gipsy mother at the fair asked a gentleman to give her a

shilling for luck. And he gave it, and asked her, "If I lose my money a-

betting on the horses, where will my luck be?" "My fine gentleman," she

said, "the luck will be a shilling's worth with me and my children."

Luck that is paid for is always somewhere (literally, there).

GUDLO XI. THE GIPSY TELLS OF THE CAT AND THE HARE.

Yeckorus the matchka jalled to dick her kako's chavo the kanengro. An'

there welled a huntingmush, an' the matchka taddied up the choomber, pre

durer, pre a rukk, an' odoi she lastered a chillico's nest. But the

kanengro prastered alay the choomber, longodurus adree the tem.

Wafri bak kairs

A choro mush ta jal alay,

But it mukks a boro mush

To chiv his kokero apre. {213}

TRANSLATION.

Once the cat went to see her cousin the hare. And there came a hunter,

and the cat scrambled up the hill, further up, up a tree, and there she

found a bird's nest. But the hare ran down the hill, far down into the

country.

Bad luck sends a poor man further down, but it causes a great man to rise

still more.

GUDLO XII. OF THE GIPSY WOMAN AND THE CHILD.

Pre yeck chairus a chi jalled adree a waver tem, an' she rikkered a gunno

pre laki dumo with a baulo adree. A rakli who was ladge of her tikno

chored the baulo avree the gunno and chivved the chavi adree. Pasch a

waver hora the chi shooned the tikno rov (ruvving), and dicked adree the

gunno in boro toob, and penned, "If the baulos in akovo tem puraben into

chavos, sa do the chavos puraben adree?"

TRANSLATION.

Once a woman went into a strange land, and she carried a bag on her back

with a pig in it. A girl who was ashamed of her child stole the pig from

the bag and put the baby in (its place). After an hour the woman heard

the child cry, and looked into the bag with great amazement, and said,

"If the pigs in this country change into children, into what do the

children change?"

GUDLO XIII. OF THE GIRL THAT WAS TO MARRY THE DEVIL.

'Pre yeck divvus a Rommany dye dukkered a rakli, and pookered laki that a

kaulo rye kaumed her. But when the chi putchered her wongur, the rakli

penned, "Puri dye, I haven't got a poshero to del tute. But pen mandy

the nav of the kaulo rye." Then the dye shelled avree, very hunnalo,

"Beng is the nav of tute's pirryno, and yuv se kaulo adusta."

If you chore puri juvas tute'll lel the beng.

TRANSLATION.

On a day a Gipsy mother told a girl's fortune, and said to her that a

dark (black) gentleman loved her. But when the woman demanded her money,

the girl said, "Old mother, I haven't got a halfpenny to give you. But

tell me the name of the dark gentleman." Then the mother roared out,

very angry, "Devil is the name of your sweetheart, and he is black

enough."

If you cheat old women you will catch the devil.

GUDLO XIV. OF THE GIPSY WHO STOLE THE HORSE.

Yeckorus a mush chored a gry and jalled him avree adree a waver tem, and

the gry and the mush jalled kushti bak kettenus. Penned the gry to his

mush, "I kaums your covvas to wearus kushtier than mandy's, for there's

kek chucknee or mellicus (pusimigree) adree them." "Kek," penned the

mush pauli; "the trash I lel when mandy jins of the prastramengro an' the

bitcherin' mush (krallis mush) is wafrier than any chucknee or busaha,

an' they'd kair mandy to praster my miramon (miraben) avree any divvus."

TRANSLATION.

Once a man stole a horse and ran him away into another country, and the

horse and the man became very intimate. Said the horse to the man, "I

like your things to wear better than I do mine, for there's no whip or

spur among them." "No," replied the man; "the fear I have when I think

of the policeman and of the judge (sending or "transporting" man, or

king's man) is worse than any whip or spur, and they would make me run my

life away any day."

GUDLO XV. THE HALF-BLOOD GIPSY, HIS WIFE, AND THE PIG.

'Pre yeck divvus there was a mush a-piin' ma his Rommany chals adree a

kitchema, an' pauli a chairus he got pash matto. An' he penned about

mullo baulors, that _he_ never hawed kek. Kenna-sig his juvo welled

adree an' putched him to jal kerri, but yuv pookered her, "Kek--I won't

jal kenna." Then she penned, "Well alang, the chavvis got kek habben."

So she putchered him ajaw an' ajaw, an' he always rakkered her pauli

"Kek." So she lelled a mullo baulor ap her dumo and wussered it 'pre the

haumescro pre saw the foki, an' penned, "Lel the mullo baulor an' rummer

it, an' mandy'll dick pauli the chavos."

TRANSLATION.

Once there was a man drinking with his Gipsy fellows in an alehouse, and

after a while he got half drunk. And he said of pigs that had died a

natural death, _he_ never ate any. By-and-by his wife came in and asked

him to go home, but he told her, "No--I won't go now." Then she said,

"Come along, the children have no food." So she entreated him again and

again, and he always answered "No." So she took a pig that had died a

natural death, from her back and threw it on the table before all the

people, and said, "Take the dead pig for a wife, and I will look after

the children." {218}

GUDLO XVI. THE GIPSY TELLS THE STORY OF THE SEVEN WHISTLERS.

My raia, the gudlo of the Seven Whistlers, you jin, is adree the

Scriptures--so they pookered mandy.

An' the Seven Whistlers (_Efta Shellengeri_) is seven spirits of ranis

that jal by the ratti, 'pre the bavol, parl the heb, like chillicos. An'

it pookers 'dree the Bible that the Seven Whistlers shell wherever they

praster atut the bavol. But aduro timeus yeck jalled avree an' got

nashered, and kenna there's only shove; but they pens 'em the Seven

Whistlers. An' that sims the story tute pookered mandy of the Seven

Stars.

TRANSLATION.

Sir, the story of the Seven Whistlers, you know, is in the Scriptures--so

they told me.

An' the Seven Whistlers are seven spirits of ladies that go by the night,

through the air, over the heaven, like birds. And it tells (us) in the

Bible that the Seven Whistlers whistle wherever they fly across the air.

But a long time ago one went away and got lost, and now there are only

six; but they call them the Seven Whistlers. And that is like the story

you told me of the Seven Stars. {219}

GUDLO XVII. AN OLD STORY WELL KNOWN TO ALL GIPSIES.

A Rommany rakli yeckorus jalled to a ker a-dukkerin'. A'ter she jalled

avree, the rakli of the ker missered a plachta, and pookered the rye that

the Rommany chi had chored it. So the rye jalled aduro pauli the tem,

and latched the Rommany chals, and bitchered them to staruben. Now this

was adree the puro chairus when they used to nasher mushis for any bitti

covvo. And some of the Rommany chals were nashered, an' some pannied.

An' sar the gunnos, an' kavis, and covvas of the Rommanis were chivved

and pordered kettenus 'pre the bor adree the cangry-puv, an' kek mush

tooled 'em. An' trin dood (or munti) pauli, the rakli was kairin' the

baulors' habben at the kokero ker, when she latched the plachta they

nashered trin dood adovo divvus. So the rakli jalled with the plachta ta

laki rye, and penned, "Dick what I kaired on those chuvvenny, chori

Rommany chals that were nashered and pannied for adovo bitti covvo adoi!"

And when they jalled to dick at the Rommanis' covvas pauli the bor adree

the cangry-puv, the gunnos were pordo and chivved adree, chingered saw to

cut-engroes, and they latched 'em full o' ruppeny covvos--rooys an'

churls of sonnakai, an' oras, curros an' piimangris, that had longed o'

the Rommany chals that were nashered an' bitschered padel.

TRANSLATION.

A Gipsy girl once went to a house to tell fortunes. After she went away,

the girl of the house missed a pudding-bag (literally, _linen cloth_),

and told the master the Gipsy girl had stolen it. So the master went far

about the country, and found the Gipsies, and sent them to prison. Now

this was in the old time when they used to hang people for any little

thing. And some of the Gipsies were hung, and some transported

(literally, _watered_). And all the bags, and kettles, and things of the

Gipsies were thrown and piled together behind the hedge in the

churchyard, and no man touched them. And three months after, the maid

was preparing the pigs' food at the same house, when she found the linen

cloth they lost three months (before) that day. So the girl went with

the cloth to her master, and said, "See what I did to those poor, poor

Gipsies that were hung and transported for that trifle (there)!"

And when they went to look at the Gipsies' things behind the hedge in the

churchyard, the bags were full and burst, torn all to rags, and they

found them full of silver things--spoons and knives of gold, and watches,

cups and teapots, that had belonged to the Gipsies that were hung and

transported. {221a}

GUDLO XVIII. HOW THE GIPSY WENT TO CHURCH.

Did mandy ever jal to kangry? Avali, dui koppas, and beshed a lay odoi.

I was adree the tale tem o' sar, an' a rye putched mandy to well to

kangry, an' I welled. And sar the ryas an' ranis dicked at mandy as I

jalled adree. {221b} So I beshed pukkenus mongin some geeros and dicked

upar again the chumure praller my sherro, and there was a deer and a

kanengro odoi chinned in the bar, an' kaired kushto. I shooned the

rashai a-rakkerin'; and when the shunaben was kerro, I welled avree and

jalled alay the drum to the kitchema.

I latchered the raias mush adree the kitchema; so we got matto odoi, an'

were jallin' kerri alay the drum when we dicked the raias wardo

a-wellin'. So we jalled sig 'dusta parl the bor, an' gavered our kokeros

odoi adree the puv till the rye had jessed avree.

I dicked adovo rye dree the sala, and he putched mandy what I'd kaired

the cauliko, pash kangry. I pookered him I'd pii'd dui or trin curros

levinor and was pash matto. An' he penned mandy, "My mush was matto sar

tute, and I nashered him." I pookered him ajaw, "I hope not, rya, for

such a bitti covvo as dovo; an' he aint cammoben to piin' levinor, he's

only used to pabengro, that don't kair him matto." But kek, the choro

mush had to jal avree. An' that's sar I can rakker tute about my jallin'

to kangry.

TRANSLATION.

Did I ever go to church? Yes, twice, and sat down there. I was in the

lower land of all (Cornwall), and a gentleman asked me to go to church,

and I went. And all the ladies and gentlemen looked at me as I went in.

So I sat quietly among some men and looked up on the wall above my head,

and there were a deer and a rabbit cut in the stone, beautifully done. I

heard the clergyman speaking; and when the sermon was ended (literally,

made), I came out and went down the road to the alehouse.

I found the gentleman's servant in the alehouse; so we got drunk there,

and were going home down the road when we saw the gentleman's carriage

coming. So we went quickly enough over the hedge, and hid ourselves

there in the field until the gentleman was gone.

I saw the gentleman in the morning, and he asked me what I had done the

day before, after church. I told him I'd drunk two or three cups of ale

and was half tipsy. And he said, "My man was drunk as you, and I sent

him off." I told him then, "I hope not, sir, for such a little thing as

that; and he is not used to drink ale, he's only accustomed to cider,

that don't intoxicate him." But no, the poor man had to go away. _And

that's all I can tell you about my going to church_.

GUDLO XIX. WHAT THE LITTLE GIPSY GIRL TOLD HER BROTHER.

Penned the tikni Rommani chavi laki pal, "More mor the pishom, 'cause

she's a Rommani, and kairs her jivaben jallin' parl the tem dukkerin' the

ruzhas and lellin' the gudlo avree 'em, sar moro dye dukkers the ranis.

An' ma wusser bars at the rookas, 'cause they're kaulos, an' kaulo ratt

is Rommany ratt. An' maun pogger the bawris, for yuv rikkers his tan pre

the dumo, sar moro puro dadas, an' so yuv's Rommany."

TRANSLATION.

Said the little Gipsy girl to her brother, "Don't kill the bee, because

she is a Gipsy, and makes her living going about the country telling

fortunes to the flowers and taking honey out of them, as our mother tells

fortunes to the ladies. And don't throw stones at the rooks, because

they are dark, and dark blood is Gipsy blood. And don't crush the snail,

for he carries his tent on his back, like our old father" (_i.e_.,

carries his home about, and so he too is Rommany).

GUDLO XX. HOW CHARLEY LEE PLAYED AT PITCH-AND-TOSS.

I jinned a tano mush yeckorus that nashered sar his wongur 'dree the toss-

ring. Then he jalled kerri to his dadas' kanyas and lelled pange bar

avree. Paul' a bitti chairus he dicked his dadas an' pookered lester

he'd lelled pange bar avree his gunnas. But yuv's dadas penned, "Jal an,

kair it ajaw and win some wongur againus!" So he jalled apopli to the

toss-ring an' lelled sar his wongur pauli, an' pange bar ferridearer. So

he jalled ajaw kerri to the tan, an' dicked his dadas beshtin' alay by

the rikk o' the tan, and his dadas penned, "Sa did you keravit, my

chavo?" "Kushto, dadas. I lelled sar my wongur pauli; and here's tute's

wongur acai, an' a bar for tute an' shtar bar for mi-kokero."

An' that's tacho as ever you tool that pen in tute's waster--an' dovo

mush was poor Charley Lee, that's mullo kenna.

TRANSLATION.

I knew a little fellow once that lost all his money in the toss-ring

(_i.e_., at pitch-and-toss). Then he went home to his father's sacks and

took five pounds out. After a little while he saw his father and told

him he'd taken five pounds from his bags. But his father said, "Go on,

spend it and win some more money!" So he went again to the toss-ring and

got all his money back, and five pounds more. And going home, he saw his

father sitting by the side of the tent, and his father said, "How did you

succeed (_i.e_., _do it_), my son?" "Very well, father. I got all _my_

money back; and here's _your_ money now, and a pound for you and four

pounds for myself."

And that's true as ever you hold that pen in your hand--and that man was

poor Charley Lee, that's dead now.

GUDLO XXI. OF THE TINKER AND THE KETTLE.

A petulamengro hatched yeck divvus at a givescro ker, where the rani del

him mass an' tood. While he was hawin' he dicked a kekavi sar chicklo

an' bongo, pashall a boro hev adree, an' he putchered, "Del it a mandy

an' I'll lel it avree for chichi, 'cause you've been so kushto an'

kammoben to mandy." So she del it a lester, an' he jalled avree for trin

cooricus, an' he keravit apre, an' kaired it pauno sar rupp. Adovo he

welled akovo drum pauli, an' jessed to the same ker, an' penned, "Dick

acai at covi kushti kekavi! I del shove trin mushis for it, an' tu shall

lel it for the same wongur, 'cause you've been so kushto a mandy."

Dovo mush was like boot 'dusta mushis--wery cammoben to his kokero.

TRANSLATION.

A tinker stopped one day at a farmer's house, where the lady gave him

meat and milk. While he was eating he saw a kettle all rusty and bent,

with a great hole in it, and he asked, "Give it to me and I will take it

away for nothing, because you have been so kind and obliging to me." So

she gave it to him, and he went away for three weeks, and he repaired it

(the kettle), and made it as bright (white) as silver. Then he went that

road again, to the same house, and said, "Look here at this fine kettle!

I gave six shillings for it, and you shall have it for the same money,

because you have been so good to me."

That man was like a great many men--very benevolent to himself.

GUDLO XXII. THE STORY OF "ROMMANY JOTER."

If a Rommany chal gets nashered an' can't latch his drum i' the ratti, he

shells avree, "_Hup_, _hup_--_Rom-ma-ny_, _Rom-ma-ny jo-ter_!" When the

chavvis can't latch the tan, it's the same gudlo, "_Rom-ma-ny jo-ter_!"

Joter pens kett'nus.

And yeck ratti my dadas, sixty besh kenna, was pirryin' par the weshes to

tan, an' he shooned a bitti gudlo like bitti ranis a rakkerin' puro tacho

Rommanis, and so he jalled from yeck boro rukk to the waver, and paul' a

cheirus he dicked a tani rani, and she was shellin' avree for her

miraben, "_Rom-ma-ny_, _Rom-ma-ny jo-ter_!" So my dada shokkered ajaw,

"_Rom-ma-ny chal_, _ak-ai_!" But as he shelled there welled a boro

bavol, and the bitti ranis an' sar prastered avree i' the heb like

chillicos adree a starmus, and all he shunned was a savvaben and "Rom-ma-

ny jo-ter!" shukaridir an' shukaridir, pash sar was kerro.

An' you can dick by dovo that the kukalos, an' fairies, an' mullos, and

chovihans all rakker puro tacho Rommanis, 'cause that's the old 'Gyptian

jib that was penned adree the Scripture tem.

TRANSLATION.

If a Gipsy is lost and cannot find his way in the night, he cries out,

"Hup, hup--Rom-ma-ny, Rom-ma-ny jo-ter!" When the children cannot find

the tent, it is the same cry, "_Rom-ma-ny jo-ter_!" Joter means

together.

And one night my father, sixty years ago (literally, _now_), was walking

through the woods to his tent, and he heard a little cry like little

ladies talking real old Gipsy, and so he went from one great tree to the

other (_i.e_., concealing himself), and after a while he saw a little

lady, and she was crying out as if for her life, "_Rom-ma-ny_, _Rom-ma-ny

jo-ter_!" So my father cried again, "_Gipsy_, _here_!" But as he

hallooed there came a great blast of wind, and the little ladies and all

flew away in the sky like birds in a storm, and all he heard was a

laughing and "_Rom-ma-ny jo-ter_!" softer and softer, till all was done.

And you can see by that that the goblins (dwarfs, mannikins), and

fairies, and ghosts, and witches, and all talk real old Gipsy, because

that is the old Egyptian language that was talked in the Scripture land.

GUDLO XXIII. OF THE RICH GIPSY AND THE PHEASANT.

Yeckorus a Rommany chal kaired adusta wongur, and was boot barvelo an' a

boro rye. His chuckko was kashno, an' the crafnies 'pre lester chuckko

were o' sonnakai, and his graias solivaris an' guiders were sar ruppeny.

Yeck divvus this here Rommany rye was hawin' habben anerjal the krallis's

chavo, an' they hatched adree a weshni kanni that was kannelo, but saw

the mushis penned it was kushtidearer. "Bless mi-Duvel!" rakkered the

Rommany rye shukar to his juvo, "tu and mandy have hawed mullo mass boot

'dusta cheiruses, mi-deari, but never soomed kek so wafro as dovo. It

kauns worse than a mullo grai!"

Boro mushis an' bitti mushis sometimes kaum covvas that waver mushis

don't jin.

TRANSLATION.

Once a Gipsy made much money, and was very rich and a great gentleman.

His coat was silk, and the buttons on his coat were of gold, and his

horse's bridle and reins were all silver. One day this Gipsy gentleman

was eating (at table) opposite to the king's son, and they brought in a

pheasant that smelt badly, but all the people said it was excellent.

"Bless me, God!" said the Gipsy gentleman softly (whispering) to his

wife, "you and I have eaten dead meat (meat that died a natural death)

many a time, my dear, but never smelt anything so bad as that. It stinks

worse than a dead horse!"

Great men and small men sometimes like (agree in liking things) that

which other people do not understand.

GUDLO XXIV. THE GIPSY AND THE "VISITING-CARDS."

Yeckorus a choro Rommany chal dicked a rani hatch taller the wuder of a

boro ker an' mukked adovo a bitti lil. Then he putched the rakli, when

the rani jessed avree, what the lil kaired. Adoi the rakli pukkered

lesco it was for her rani ta jin kun'd welled a dick her. "Avali!"

penned the Rommany chal; "_that's_ the way the Gorgios mukks their

patteran! _We_ mukks char apre the drum."

The grai mukks his pirro apre the drum, an' the sap kairs his trail adree

the puv.

TRANSLATION.

Once a poor Gipsy saw a lady stop before the door of a great house and

left there a card (little letter). Then he asked the girl, when the lady

went away, what the card meant (literally, _did_). Then (there) the girl

told him it was for her lady to know who had come to see her. "Yes!"

said the Gipsy; "so that is the way the Gorgios leave their sign! _We_

leave grass on the road."

The horse leaves his track on the road, and the snake makes his trail in

the dust.

GUDLO XXV. THE GIPSY IN THE FOREST.

When I was beshin' alay adree the wesh tale the bori rukkas, mandy

putched a tikno chillico to latch mandy a bitti moro, but it jalled avree

an' I never dicked it kekoomi. Adoi I putched a boro chillico to latch

mandy a curro o' tatti panni, but it jalled avree paul' the waver. Mandy

never putchered the rukk parl my sherro for kek, but when the bavol

welled it wussered a lay to mandy a hundred ripe kori.

TRANSLATION.

When I was sitting down in the forest under the great trees, I asked a

little bird to bring (find) me a little bread, but it went away and I

never saw it again. Then I asked a great bird to bring me a cup of

brandy, but it flew away after the other. I never asked the tree over my

head for anything, but when the wind came it threw down to me a hundred

ripe nuts.

GUDLO XXVI. THE GIPSY FIDDLER AND THE YOUNG LADY.

Yeckorus a tano mush was kellin' kushto pre the boshomengro, an' a kushti

dickin rani pookered him, "Tute's killaben is as sano as best-tood." And

he rakkered ajaw, "Tute's mui's gudlo sar pishom, an' I'd cammoben to

puraben mi tood for tute's pishom."

Kushto pash kushto kairs ferridearer.

TRANSLATION.

Once a young man was playing well upon the violin, and a beautiful lady

told him, "Your playing is as soft as cream." And he answered, "Your

mouth (_i.e_., lips or words) is sweet as honey, and I would like to

exchange my cream for your honey."

Good with good makes better.

GUDLO XXVII. HOW THE GIPSY DANCED A HOLE THROUGH A STONE.

Yeckorus some plochto Rommany chals an' juvas were kellin' the

pash-divvus by dood tall' a boro ker, and yeck penned the waver, "I'd be

cammoben if dovo ker was mandy's." And the rye o' the ker, kun sus

dickin' the kellaben, rakkered, "When tute kells a hev muscro the bar

you're hatchin' apre, mandy'll del tute the ker." Adoi the Rom tarried

the bar apre, an' dicked it was hollow tale, and sar a curro 'pre the

waver rikk. So he lelled dui sastern chokkas and kelled sar the ratti

'pre the bar, kairin' such a gudlo you could shoon him a mee avree; an'

adree the sala he had kaired a hev adree the bar as boro as lesters

sherro. So the barvelo rye del him the fino ker, and sar the mushis got

matto, hallauter kettenus.

Many a cheirus I've shooned my puri dye pen that a bar with a hev adree

it kairs kammoben.

TRANSLATION.

Once some jolly Gipsy men and girls were dancing in the evening by

moonlight before a great house, and one said to the other, "I'd be glad

if that house was mine." And the gentleman of the house, who was looking

at the dancing, said, "When you dance a hole through (in the centre of)

the stone you are standing on, I'll give you the house." Then the Gipsy

pulled the stone up, and saw it was hollow underneath, and like a cup on

the other side. So he took two iron shoes and danced all night on the

stone, making such a noise you could hear him a mile off; and in the

morning he had made a hole in the stone as large as his head. So the

rich gentleman gave him the fine house, and all the people got drunk, all

together.

Many a time I've heard my old mother say that a stone with a hole in it

brings luck.

GUDLO XXVIII. STORY OF THE GENTLEMAN AND THE GIPSY.

Yeckorus a boro rye wouldn't mukk a choro, pauvero, chovveny Rommany chal

hatch odoi 'pre his farm. So the Rommany chal jalled on a puv apre the

waver rikk o' the drum, anerjal the ryas beshaben. And dovo ratti the

ryas ker pelled alay; kek kash of it hatched apre, only the foki that

loddered adoi hullered their kokeros avree ma their miraben. And the

ryas tikno chavo would a-mullered if a Rommany juva had not lelled it

avree their pauveri bitti tan.

An' dovo's sar _tacho like my dad_, an' to the divvus kenna they pens

that puv the Rommany Puv.

TRANSLATION.

Once a great gentleman would not let a poor, poor, poor Gipsy stay on his

farm. So the Gipsy went to a field on the other side of the way,

opposite the gentleman's residence. And that night the gentleman's house

fell down; not a stick of it remained standing, only the people who

lodged there carried themselves out (_i.e_., escaped) with their lives.

And the gentleman's little babe would have died if a Gipsy woman had not

taken it into their poor little tent.

And that's all _true as my father_, and to this day they call that field

the Gipsy Field.

GUDLO XXIX. HOW THE GIPSY WENT INTO THE WATER.

Yeck divvus a prastramengro prastered pauli a Rommany chal, an' the chal

jalled adree the panni, that was pordo o' boro bittis o' floatin' shill,

and there he hatched pall his men with only his sherro avree. "Hav

avree," shelled a rye that was wafro in his see for the pooro rnush, "an'

we'll mukk you jal!" "Kek," penned the Rom; "I shan't jal." "Well

avree," penned the rye ajaw, "an' I'll del tute pange bar!" "_Kek_,"

rakkered the Rom. "Jal avree," shokkered the rye, "an' I'll del tute

pange bar an' a nevvi chukko!" "Will you del mandy a walin o' tatto

panni too?" putched the Rommany chal. "Avail, avail," penned the rye;

"but for Duveleste hav' avree the panni!" "Kushto," penned the Rommany

chal, "for cammoben to tute, rya, I'll jal avree!" {235}

TRANSLATION.

Once a policeman chased a Gipsy, and the Gipsy ran into the river, that

was full of great pieces of floating ice, and there he stood up to his

neck with only his head out. "Come out," cried a gentleman that pitied

the poor man, "and we'll let you go!" "No," said the Gipsy; "I won't

move." "Come out," said the gentleman again, "and I'll give you five

pounds!" "No," said the Gipsy. "Come out," cried the gentleman, "and

I'll give you five pounds and a new coat!" "Will you give me a glass of

brandy too?" asked the Gipsy. "Yes, yes," said the gentleman; "but for

God's sake come out of the water!" "Well," exclaimed the Gipsy, "to

oblige you, sir, I'll come out!"

GUDLO XXX. THE GIPSY AND HIS TWO MASTERS.

"Savo's tute's rye?" putched a ryas mush of a Rommany chal. "I've dui

ryas," pooked the Rommany chal: "Duvel's the yeck an' beng's the waver.

Mandy kairs booti for the beng till I've lelled my yeckora habben, an'

pallers mi Duvel pauli ajaw."

TRANSLATION.

"Who is your master?" asked a gentleman's servant of a Gipsy. "I've two

masters," said the Gipsy: "God is the one, and the devil is the other. I

work for the devil till I have got my dinner (one-o'clock food), and

after that follow the Lord."

GUDLO XXXI. THE LITTLE GIPSY BOY AT THE SILVERSMITH'S.

A bitti chavo jalled adree the boro gav pash his dadas, an' they hatched

taller the hev of a ruppenomengro's buddika sar pordo o' kushti-dickin

covvas. "O dadas," shelled the tikno chavo, "what a boro choromengro

dovo mush must be to a' lelled so boot adusta rooys an' horas!"

A tacho covva often dicks sar a hokkeny (huckeny) covva; an dovo's sim of

a tacho mush, but a juva often dicks tacho when she isn't.

TRANSLATION.

A little boy went to the great village (_i.e_., London) with his father,

and they stopped before the window of a silversmith's shop all full of

pretty things. "O father," cried the small boy, "what a great thief that

man must be to have got so many spoons and watches!"

A true thing often looks like a false one; and the same is true (and

that's _same_) of a true man, but a girl often looks right when she is

not.

GUDLO XXXII. THE GIPSY'S DREAM.

Mandy sutto'd I was pirraben lang o' tute, an' I dicked mandy's pen odoi

'pre the choomber. Then I was pirryin' ajaw parl the puvius, an' I

welled to the panni paul' the Beng's Choomber, an' adoi I dicked some

ranis, saw nango barrin' a pauno plachta 'pre lengis sherros, adree the

panni pash their bukkos. An' I pookered lengis, "Mi-ranis, I putch

tute's cammoben; I didn't jin tute sus acai." But yeck pre the wavers

penned mandy boot kushti cammoben, "Chichi, mor dukker your-kokero; we

just welled alay acai from the ker to lel a bitti bath." An' she savvy'd

sa kushto, but they all jalled avree glan mandy sar the bavol, an' tute

was hatchin' pash a maudy sar the cheirus.

So it pens, "when you dick ranis sar dovo, you'll muller kushto." Well,

if it's to be akovo, I kaum it'll be a booti cheirus a-wellin.' Tacho!

TRANSLATION.

I dreamed I was walking with you, and I saw my sister (a fortune-teller)

there upon the hill. Then I (found myself) walking again over the field,

and I came to the water near the Devil's Dyke, and there I saw some

ladies, quite naked excepting a white cloth on their heads, in the water

to the waists. And I said to them, "Ladies, I beg your pardon; I did not

know you were here." But one among the rest said to me very kindly, "No

matter, don't trouble yourself; we just came down here from the house to

take a little bath." And she smiled sweetly, but they all vanished

before me like the cloud (wind), and you were standing by me all the

time.

So it means, "_when you see ladies like that, you will die happily_."

Well, if it's to be that, I hope it will be a long time coming. Yes,

indeed.

GUDLO XXXIII. OF THE GIRL AND HER LOVER.

Yeckorus, boot hundred beshes the divvus acai, a juva was wellin' to

chore a yora. "Mukk mandy hatch," penned the yora, "an' I'll sikker tute

ki tute can lel a tikno pappni." So the juva lelled the tikno pappni,

and it pookered laki, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute ki tute can

chore a bori kani." Then she chored the bori kani, an' it shelled avree,

"Mukk mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute ki you can loure a rani-chillico."

And when she lelled the rani-chillico, it penned, "Mukk mandy jal an'

I'll sikker tute odoi ki tute can lel a guruvni's tikno." So she lelled

the guruvni's tikno, an' it shokkered and ruvved, an' rakkered, "Mukk

mandy jal an' I'll sikker tute where to lel a fino grai." An' when she

loured the grai, it penned laki, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll rikker tute to

a kushto-dick barvelo rye who kaums a pirreny." So she lelled the kushto

tauno rye, an' she jivved with lester kushto yeck cooricus; but pash dovo

he pookered her to jal avree, he didn't kaum her kekoomi. "Sa a wafro

mush is tute," ruvved the rakli, "to bitcher mandy avree! For tute's

cammoben I delled avree a yora, a tikno pappni, a boro kani, a

rani-chillico, a guruvni's tikno, an' a fino grai." "Is dovo tacho?"

putched the raklo. "'Pre my mullo dadas!" sovahalled the rakli," I del

'em sar apre for tute, yeck paul the waver, an' kenna tu bitchers mandy

avree!" "So 'p mi-Duvel!" penned the rye, "if tute nashered sar booti

covvas for mandy, I'll rummer tute." So they were rummobend.

Avali, there's huckeny (hokkeny) tachobens and tacho huckabens. You can

sovahall pre the lil adovo.

TRANSLATION.

Once, many hundred years ago (to-day now), a girl was going to steal an

egg. "Let me be," said the egg, "and I will show you where you can get a

duck." So the girl got the duck, and it said (told) to her, "Let me go

and I will show you where you can get a goose" (large hen). Then she

stole the goose, and it cried out, "Let me go and I'll show you where you

can steal a turkey" (lady-bird). And when she took the turkey, it said,

"Let me go and I'll show you where you can get a calf." So she got the

calf, and it bawled and wept, and cried, "Let me go and I'll show you

where to get a fine horse." And when she stole the horse, it said to

her, "Let me go and I'll carry you to a handsome, rich gentleman who

wants a sweetheart." So she got the nice young gentleman, and lived with

him pleasantly one week; but then he told her to go away, he did not want

her any more. "What a bad man you are," wept the girl, "to send me away!

For your sake I gave away an egg, a duck, a goose, a turkey, a calf, and

a fine horse." "Is that true?" asked the youth. "By my dead father!"

swore the girl, "I gave them all up for you, one after the other, and now

you send me away!" "So help me God!" said the gentleman, "if you lost so

many things for me, I'll marry you." So they were married.

Yes, there are false truths and true lies. You may kiss the book on

_that_.

GUDLO XXXIV. THE GIPSY TELLS OF WILL-O'-THE-WISP.

Does mandy jin the lav adree Rommanis for a Jack-o'-lantern--the dood

that prasters, and hatches, an' kells o' the ratti, parl the panni, adree

the puvs? _Avali_; some pens 'em the Momeli Mullos, and some the Bitti

Mullos. They're bitti geeros who rikker tute adree the gogemars, an'

sikker tute a dood till you're all jalled apre a wafro drum an nashered,

an' odoi they chiv their kokeros pauli an' savs at tute. Mandy's dicked

their doods adusta cheiruses, an' kekoomi; but my pal dicked langis muis

pash mungwe yeck ratti. He was jallin' langus an' dicked their doods,

and jinned it was the yag of lesters tan. So he pallered 'em, an' they

tadered him dukker the drum, parl the bors, weshes, puvius, gogemars,

till they lelled him adree the panni, an then savvy'd avree. And odoi he

dicked lender pre the waver rikk, ma lesters kokerus yakkis, an' they

were bitti mushis, bitti chovihanis, about dui peeras boro. An' my pal

was bengis hunnalo, an' sovahalled pal' lengis, "If I lelled you acai,

you ratfolly juckos! if I nashered you, I'd chin tutes curros!" An' he

jalled to tan ajaw an' pookered mandy saw dovo 'pre dovo rat. "Kun sus

adovo?" Avali, rya; dovo was pash Kaulo Panni--near Blackwater.

TRANSLATION.

Do I know the word in Rommanis for a Jack-o'-lantern--the light that

runs, and stops, and dances by night, over the water, in the fields? Yes;

some call them the Light Ghosts, and some the Little Ghosts. They're

little men who lead you into the waste and swampy places, and show you a

light until you have gone astray and are lost, and then they turn

themselves around and laugh at you. I have seen their lights many a

time, and nothing more; but my brother saw their faces close and opposite

to him (directly _vis-a-vis_) one night. He was going along and saw

their lights, and thought it was the fire of his tent. So he followed

them, and they drew him from the road over hedges, woods, fields, and

lonely marshes till they got him in the water, and then laughed out loud.

And there he saw them with his own eyes, on the opposite side, and they

were little fellows, little goblins, about two feet high. And my brother

was devilish angry, and swore at them! "If I had you here, you wretched

dogs! if I caught you, I'd cut your throats!" And he went home and told

me all that that night. "_Where was it_?" Yes, sir; that was near

Blackwater.

GUDLO XXXV. THE GIPSY EXPLAINS WHY THE FLOUNDER HAS HIS MOUTH ON ONE

SIDE.

Yeckorus sar the matchis jalled an' suvved kettenescrus 'dree the panni.

And yeck penned as yuv was a boro mush, an' the waver rakkered ajaw sa

yuv was a borodiro mush, and sar pookered sigan ket'nus how lengis were

borodirer mushis. Adoi the flounder shelled avree for his meriben

"Mandy's the krallis of you sar!" an' he shelled so surrelo he kaired his

mui bongo, all o' yeck rikkorus. So to akovo divvus acai he's penned the

Krallis o' the Matchis, and rikkers his mui bongo sar o' yeck sidus.

Mushis shouldn't shell too shunaben apre lengis kokeros.

TRANSLATION.

Once all the fish came and swam together in the water. And one said that

he was a great person, and the other declared that he was a greater

person, and (at last) all cried out at once what great characters (men)

they all were. Then the flounder shouted for his life, "I'm the king of

you all!" and he roared so violently he twisted his mouth all to one

side. So to this day he is called the King of the Fishes, and bears his

face crooked all on one side.

Men should not boast too loudly of themselves.

GUDLO XXXVI. A GIPSY ACCOUNT OF THE TRUE ORIGIN OF THE FISH CALLED OLD

MAIDS OR YOUNG MAIDS.

Yeckorus kushti-dickin raklos were suvvin' 'dree the lun panni, and there

welled odoi some plochti raklis an' juvas who pooked the tano ryas to

hav' avree an' choomer 'em. But the raklos wouldn't well avree, so the

ranis rikkered their rivabens avree an' pirried adree the panni paul'

lendy. An' the ryas who were kandered alay, suvved andurer 'dree the

panni, an' the ranis pallered 'em far avree till they were saw latchered,

raklos and raklis. So the tauno ryas were purabened into Barini Mushi

Matchis because they were too ladge (latcho) of the ranis that kaumed

'em, and the ranis were kaired adree Puri Rani Matchis and Tani Rani

Matchis because they were too tatti an' ruzli.

Raklos shouldn't be too ladge, nor raklis be too boro of their kokeros.

TRANSLATION.

Once some handsome youths were swimming in the sea, and there came some

wanton women and girls who told the young men to come out and kiss them.

But the youths would not come out, so the ladies stripped themselves and

ran into the water after them. And the gentles who were driven away swam

further into the water, and the ladies followed them far away till all

were lost, boys and girls. So the young men were changed into Codfish

because they were too shy of the girls that loved them, and the ladies

were turned into Old Maids and Young Maids because they were too wanton

and bold.

Men should not be too modest, nor girls too forward.

GUDLO XXXVII. HOW LORD COVENTRY LEAPED THE GIPSY TENT. A TRUE STORY.

I dicked Lord Coventry at the Worcester races. He kistured lester noko

grai adree the steeple-chase for the ruppeny--kek,--a sonnakai tank I

think it was,--but he nashered. It was dovo tano rye that yeck divvus in

his noko park dicked a Rommany chal's tan pash the rikk of a bor; and at

yeck leap he kistered apre the bor, and jalled right atut an' parl the

Rommany chal's tan. "Ha, kun's acai?" he shelled, as he dicked the tikno

kaulos; "a Rommany chal's tan!" And from dovo divvus he mukked akovo Rom

hatch his cammoben 'pre his puv. Tacho.

Ruzlo mushis has boro sees.

TRANSLATION.

I saw Lord Coventry at the Worcester races. He rode his own horse in the

steeple-chase for the silver--no, it was a gold tankard, I think, but he

lost.

It was that young gentleman who one day in his own park saw a Gipsy tent

by the side of a hedge, and took a flying leap over tent, hedge, and all.

"Ha, what's here?" he cried, as he saw the little brown children; "a

Gipsy's tent!" And from that day he let that Gipsy stay as much as he

pleased on his land.

Bold men have generous hearts.

GUDLO XXXVIII. OF MR BARTLETT'S LEAP.

Dovo's sim to what they pens of Mr Bartlett in Glo'stershire, who had a

fino tem pash Glo'ster an' Bristol, where he jivved adree a boro ker. Kek

mush never dicked so booti weshni juckalos or weshni kannis as yuv

rikkered odoi. They prastered atut saw the drumyas sim as kanyas. Yeck

divvus he was kisterin' on a kushto grai, an' he dicked a Rommany chal

rikkerin' a truss of gib-puss 'pre lester dumo pral a bitti drum, an'

kistered 'pre the pooro mush, puss an' sar. I jins that puro mush better

'n I jins tute, for I was a'ter yeck o' his raklis yeckorus; he had

kushti-dick raklis, an' he was old Knight Locke. "Puro," pens the rye,

"did I kair you trash?" "I mang tute's shunaben, rya," pens Locke pauli;

"I didn't jin tute sus wellin'!" So puro Locke hatched odoi 'pre dovo

tem sar his miraben, an' that was a kushti covva for the puro Locke.

TRANSLATION.

That is like what is told of Mr Bartlett in Gloucestershire, who had a

fine place near Gloucester and Bristol, where he lived in a great house.

No man ever saw so many foxes or pheasants as he kept there. They ran

across all the paths like hens. One day he was riding on a fine horse,

when he saw a Gipsy carrying a truss of wheat-straw on his back up a

little path, and leaped over the poor man, straw and all. I knew that

old man better than I know you, for I was after one of his daughters

then; he had beautiful girls, and he was old Knight Locke. "Old fellow,"

said the gentleman, "did I frighten you?" "I beg your pardon, sir," said

Locke after him; "I didn't know you were coming!" So old Locke stayed on

that land all his life, and that was a good thing for old Locke.

GUDLO XXXIX. THE GIPSY, THE PIG, AND THE MUSTARD.

Yeckorus a Rommany chal jalled to a boro givescroker sa's the rye sus

hawin'. And sikk's the Rom wan't a-dickin', the rye all-sido pordered a

kell-mallico pash kris, an' del it to the Rommany chal. An' sa's the

kris dantered adree his gullo, he was pash tassered, an' the panni welled

in his yakkas. Putched the rye, "Kun's tute ruvvin' ajaw for?" An' he

rakkered pauli, "The kris lelled mandys bavol ajaw." Penned the rye, "I

kaum the kris'll del tute kushti bak." "Parraco, rya," penned the Rom

pauli; "I'll kommer it kairs dovo." Sikk's the rye bitchered his sherro,

the Rommany chal loured the krissko-curro ma the ruppeny rooy, an' kek

dicked it. The waver divvus anpauli, dovo Rom jalled to the ryas baulo-

tan, an' dicked odoi a boro rikkeno baulo, an' gillied, "I'll dick acai

if I can kair tute ruv a bitti."

Now, rya, you must jin if you del a baulor kris adree a pabo, he can't

shell avree or kair a gudlo for his miraben, an' you can rikker him

bissin', or chiv him apre a wardo, an' jal andurer an' kek jin it. An'

dovo's what the Rommany chal kaired to the baulor, pash the sim kris; an'

as he bissered it avree an' pakkered it adree a gunno, he penned shukkar

adree the baulor's kan, "Calico tute's rye hatched my bavol, an' the

divvus I've hatched tute's; an' yeckorus your rye kaumed the kris would

del mandy kushti bak, and kenna it _has_ del mengy kushtier bak than ever

he jinned.

Ryes must be sig not to kair pyass an' trickis atop o' choro mushis.

TRANSLATION.

Once a Gipsy went to a great farmhouse as the gentleman sat at table

eating. And so soon as the Gipsy looked away, the gentleman very quietly

filled a cheese-cake with mustard and gave it to the Gipsy. When the

mustard bit in his throat, he was half choked, and the tears came into

his eyes. The gentleman asked him, "What are you weeping for now?" And

he replied, "The mustard took my breath away." The gentleman said, "I

hope the mustard will give you good luck!" "Thank you, sir," answered

the Gipsy; "I'll take care it does" (that). As soon as the gentleman

turned his head, the Gipsy stole the mustard-pot with the silver spoon,

and no one saw it. The next day after, that Gipsy went to the

gentleman's pig-pen, and saw there a great fine-looking pig, and sang,

"I'll see now if I can make _you_ weep a bit."

Now, sir, you must know that if you give a pig mustard in an apple, he

can't cry out or squeal for his life, and you can carry him away, or

throw him on a waggon, and get away, and nobody will know it. And that

is what the Gipsy did to the pig, with the same mustard; and as he ran it

away and put it in a bag, he whispered softly into the pig's ear,

"Yesterday your master stopped my breath, and to-day I've stopped yours;

and once your master hoped the mustard would give me good luck, and now

it _has_ given me better luck than he ever imagined."

Gentlemen must be careful not to make sport of and play tricks on poor

men.

GUDLO XL. EXPLAINING THE ORIGIN OF A CURRENT GIPSY PROVERB OR SAYING.

Trin or shtor beshes pauli kenna yeck o' the Petulengros dicked a boro

mullo baulor adree a bitti drum. An' sig as he latched it, some Rommany

chals welled alay an' dicked this here Rommany chal. So Petulengro he

shelled avree, "A fino baulor! saw tulloben! jal an the sala an' you

shall have pash." And they welled apopli adree the sala and lelled pash

sar tacho. And ever sense dovo divvus it's a rakkerben o' the Rommany

chals, "Sar tulloben; jal an the sala an' tute shall lel your pash."

TRANSLATION.

Three or four years ago one of the Smiths found a great dead pig in a

lane. And just as he found it, some Gipsies came by and saw this

Rommany. So Smith bawled out to them, "A fine pig! all fat! come in the

morning and you shall have half." And they returned in the morning and

got half, all right. And ever since it has been a saying with the

Gipsies, "It's _all fat_; come in the morning and get your half."

GUDLO XLI. THE GIPSY'S FISH-HOOK.

Yeckorus a rye pookered a Rommany chal he might jal matchyin' 'dree his

panni, and he'd del lester the cammoben for trin mushi, if he'd only

matchy with a bongo sivv an' a punsy-ran. So the Rom jalled with India-

drab kaired apre moro, an' he drabbered saw the matchas adree the panni,

and rikkered avree his wardo sar pordo. A boro cheirus pauli dovo, the

rye dicked the Rommany chal, an' penned, "You choramengro, did tute lel

the matchas avree my panni with a hook?" "Ayali, rya, with a hook,"

penned the Rom pale, werry sido. "And what kind of a hook?" "Rya,"

rakkered the Rom, "it was yeck o' the longi kind, what we pens in amandis

jib a hookaben" (_i.e_., huckaben or hoc'aben).

When you del a mush cammoben to lel matchyas avree tute's panni, you'd

better hatch adoi an' dick how he kairs it.

TRANSLATION.

Once a gentleman told a Gipsy he might fish in his pond, and he would

give him permission to do so for a shilling, but that he must only fish

with a hook and a fishing-pole (literally, crooked needle). So the Gipsy

went with India-drab (juice of the berries of _Indicus cocculus_) made up

with bread, and poisoned all the fish in the pond, and carried away his

waggonful. A long time after, the gentleman met the Gipsy, and said,

"You thief, did you catch the fish in my pond with a hook?" "Yes, sir,

with a hook," replied the Gipsy very quietly. "And what kind of a hook?"

"Sir," said the Gipsy, "it was one of the long kind, what we call in our

language a hookaben" (_i.e_., _a lie or trick_).

When you give a man leave to fish in your pond, you had better be present

and see how he does it.

GUDLO XLII. THE GIPSY AND THE SNAKE.

If you more the first sappa you dicks, tute'll more the first enemy

you've got. That's what 'em pens, but I don't jin if it's tacho or

nettus. And yeckorus there was a werry wafro mush that was allers

a-kairin' wafri covvabens. An' yeck divvus he dicked a sap in the wesh,

an' he prastered paller it with a bori churi adree lester waster and

chinned her sherro apre. An' then he rakkered to his kokerus, "Now that

I've mored the sap, I'll lel the jivaben of my wenomest enemy." And just

as he penned dovo lav he delled his pirro atut the danyas of a rukk, an'

pet alay and chivved the churi adree his bukko. An' as he was beshin'

alay a-mullerin' 'dree the weshes, he penned to his kokerus, "Avali, I

dicks kenna that dovo's tacho what they pookers about morin' a sappa; for

I never had kek worser ennemis than I've been to mandy's selfus, and what

wells of morin' innocen hanimals is kek kushtoben."

TRANSLATION.

If you kill the first snake you see, you'll kill the first (principal)

enemy you have. That is what they say, but I don't know whether it is

true or not. And once there was a very bad man who was always doing bad

deeds. And one day he saw a snake in the forest, and ran after it with a

great knife in his hand and cut her head off. And then he said to

himself, "Now that I've killed the snake, I'll take the life of my most

vindictive (literally, most venomous) enemy." And just as he spoke that

word he struck his foot against the roots of a tree, and fell down and

drove the knife into his own body (liver or heart). And as he lay dying

in the forests, he said to himself, "Yes, I see now that it is true what

they told me as to killing a snake; for I never had any worse enemy than

I have been to myself, and what comes of killing innocent animals is

naught good."

GUDLO XLIII. THE STORY OF THE GIPSY AND THE BULL.

Yeckorus there was a Rommany chal who was a boro koorin' mush, a surrelo

mush, a boro-wasteni mush, werry toonery an' hunnalo. An' he penned

adusta cheiruses that kek geero an' kek covva 'pre the drumyas couldn't

trasher him. But yeck divvus, as yuv was jallin' langs the drum with a

waver pal, chunderin' an' hookerin' an' lunterin', an' shorin' his kokero

how he could koor the puro bengis' selfus, they shooned a guro a-goorin'

an' googerin', an' the first covva they jinned he prastered like divius

at 'em, an' these here geeros prastered apre ye rukk, an' the boro

koorin' mush that was so flick o' his wasters chury'd first o' saw (sar),

an' hatched duri-dirus from the puv pre the limmers. An' he beshed adoi

an' dicked ye bullus wusserin' an' chongerin' his trushnees sar aboutus,

an' kellin' pre lesters covvas, an' poggerin' to cutengroes saw he lelled

for lesters miraben. An' whenever the bavol pudered he was atrash he'd

pelt-a-lay 'pre the shinger-ballos of the gooro (guro). An' so they

beshed adoi till the sig of the sala, when the mush who dicked a'ter the

gruvnis welled a-pirryin' by an' dicked these here chals beshin' like

chillicos pre the rukk, an' patched lengis what they were kairin' dovo

for. So they pookered him about the bullus, an' he hankered it avree;

an' they welled alay an' jalled andurer to the kitchema, for there never

was dui mushis in 'covo tem that kaumed a droppi levinor koomi than

lender. But pale dovo divvus that trusheni mush never sookered he

couldn't be a trashni mush no moreus. Tacho.

TRANSLATION.

Once there was a Gipsy who was a great fighting man, a strong man, a

great boxer, very bold and fierce. And he said many a time that no man

and no thing on the roads could frighten him. But one day, as he was

going along the road with another man (his friend), exaggerating and

bragging and boasting, and praising himself that he could beat the old

devil himself, they heard a bull bellowing and growling, and the first

thing they knew he ran like mad at them; and these men hurried up a tree,

and the great fighting man that was so handy with his fists climbed first

of all, and got (placed) himself furtherest from the ground on the limbs.

And he sat there and saw the bull tossing and throwing his baskets all

about, and dancing on his things, and breaking to pieces all he had for

his living. And whenever the wind blew he was afraid he would fall on

the horns of the bull. And so they sat there till daybreak, when the man

who looked after the cows came walking by and saw these fellows sitting

like birds on the tree, and asked them what they were doing that for. So

they told him about the bull, and he drove it away; and they came down

and went on to the alehouse, for there never were two men in this country

that wanted a drop of beer more than they. But after that day that

thirsty man never boasted he could not be a frightened man. True.

GUDLO XLIV. THE GIPSY AND HIS THREE SWEETHEARTS.

Yeckorus a tano mush kaired his cammoben ta trin juvas kett'nus an' kek

o' the trin jinned yuv sus a pirryin' ye waver dui. An 'covo raklo

jivved adree a bitti tan pash the rikkorus side o' the boro lun panni,

an' yeck ratti sar the chais welled shikri kett'nus a lester, an' kek o'

the geeris jinned the wavers san lullerin adoi. So they jalled sar-sigan

kett'nus, an' rakkered, "Sarshan!" ta yeck chairus. An' dovo raklo

didn't jin what juva kaumed lester ferridirus, or kun yuv kaumed ye

ferridirus, so sar the shtor besht-a-lay sum, at the habbenescro, and yuv

del len habben an' levinor. Yeck hawed booti, but ye waver dui wouldn't

haw kek, yeck pii'd, but ye waver dui wouldn't pi chommany, 'cause they

were sar hunnali, and sookeri an' kuried. So the raklo penned lengis,

yuv sos atrash if yuv lelled a juva 'at couldn't haw, she wouldn't jiv,

so he rummored the rakli that hawed her habben.

All'ers haw sar the habben foki banders apre a tute, an' tute'll jal

sikker men dush an' tukli.

TRANSLATION.

Once a young man courted three girls together, and none of the three knew

he was courting the two others. And that youth lived in a little place

near the side of the great salt water, and one night all the girls came

at once together to him, and none of the girls knew the others were

coming there. So they went all quick together, and said "Good evening,"

(sarishan means really "How are you?") at the same time. And that youth

did not know which girl liked him best, or whom he loved best; so all the

four sat down together at the table, and he gave them food and beer. One

ate plenty, but the other two would eat nothing; one drank, but the other

two would not drink something, because they were all angry, and grieved,

and worried. So the youth told them he was afraid if he took a wife that

could not eat, she would not live, so he married the girl that ate her

food.

Always eat all the food that people give you (literally share out to

you), and you will go readily (securely) through sorrow and trouble.

GUDLO XLV. THE GIPSIES AND THE SMUGGLERS. A TRUE STORY.

Yeckorus, most a hundred besh kenna, when mi dadas sus a chavo, yeck

ratti a booti Rommany chals san millerin kettenescrus pash the boro

panni, kun sar-sig the graias ankaired a-wickerin an' ludderin an'

nuckerin' an kairin a boro gudli, an' the Rommanis shuned a shellin, an'

dicked mushis prasterin and lullyin for lenders miraben, sa's seer-dush,

avree a boro hev. An' when len san sar jalled lug, the Rommany chals

welled adoi an' latched adusta bitti barrels o' tatto-panni, an' fino

covvas, for dovo mushis were 'mugglers, and the Roms lelled sar they

mukked pali. An' dovo sus a boro covva for the Rommany chals, an' they

pii'd sar graias, an' the raklis an' juvas jalled in kushni heezis for

booti divvuses. An' dovo sus kerro pash Bo-Peep--a boro puvius adree

bori chumures, pash Hastings in Sussex.

When 'mugglers nasher an' Rommany chals latch, there's kek worser

cammoben for it.

TRANSLATION.

Once almost a hundred years now, when my father was a boy, one night many

Gipsies were going together near the sea, when all at once the horses

began whinnying and kicking and neighing, and making a great noise, and

the Gipsies heard a crying out, and saw men running and rushing as if in

alarm, from a great cave. And when they were all gone away together, the

Gipsies went there and found many little barrels of brandy, and

valuables, for those men were smugglers, and the Gipsies took all they

left behind. And that was a great thing for the Gipsies, and they drank

like horses, and the girls and women went in silk clothes for many days.

And that was done near Bo-Peep, a great field in the hills, by Hastings

in Sussex.

When smugglers lose and Gipsies find, nobody is the worse for it.

FOOTNOTES

{0a} The reason why Gipsy words have been kept unchanged was fully

illustrated one day in a Gipsy camp in my hearing, when one man declaring

of a certain word that it was only _kennick_ or slang, and not

"Rommanis," added, "It can't be Rommanis, because everybody knows it.

When a word gets to be known to everybody, it's no longer Rommanis."

{1} Lavengro and the Rommany Rye: London, John Murray.

{5} To these I would add "Zelda's Fortune," now publishing in the

_Cornhill Magazine_.

{21} Educated Chinese often exercise themselves in what they call

"handsome talkee," or "talkee leeson" (i.e., reason), by sitting down and

uttering, by way of assertion and rejoinder, all the learned and wise

sentences which they can recall. In their conversation and on their

crockery, before every house and behind every counter, the elegant

formula makes its appearance, teaching people not merely _how_ to think,

but what should be thought, and when.

{24} Probably from the modern Greek [Greek text], the sole of the foot,

_i.e_., a track. Panth, a road, Hindustani.

{26} Pott: "Die Zigeuner in Europa and Asien," vol. ii, p. 293.

{30} Two hundred (shel) years growing, two hundred years losing his

coat, two hundred years before he dies, and then he loses all his blood

and is no longer good.

{32} The words of the Gipsy, as I took them down from his own lips, were

as follows:--

"Bawris are kushto habben. You can latcher adusta 'pre the bors. When

they're pirraben pauli the puvius, or tale the koshters, they're kek

kushti habben. The kushtiest are sovven sar the wen. Lel'em and tove

'em and chiv 'em adree the kavi, with panny an' a bitti lun. The

simmun's kushto for the yellow jaundice."

I would remind the reader that in _every instance_ where the original

Gipsy language is given, it was written down or _noted_ during

conversation, and subsequently written out and read to a Gipsy, by whom

it was corrected. And I again beg the reader to remember, that every

Rommany phrase is followed by a translation into English.

{33} Dr Pott intimates that _scharos_, a globe, may be identical with

_sherro_, a head. When we find, however, that in German Rommany

_tscharo_ means goblet, pitcher, vessel, and in fact cup, it seems as if

the Gipsy had hit upon the correct derivation.

{34} "Dovos yect o' the covvos that saw foki jins. When you lel a wart

'pre tutes wasters you jal 'pre the drum or 'dree the puvius till you

latcher a kaulo bawris--yeck o' the boro kind with kek ker apre him, an'

del it apre the caro of a kaulo kosh in the bor, and ear the bawris

mullers, yeck divvus pauli the waver for shtar or pange divvuses the

wart'll kinner away-us. 'Dusta chairusses I've pukkered dovo to Gorgios,

an' Gorgios have kaired it, an' the warts have yuzhered avree their

wasters."

{35} Among certain tribes in North America, tobacco is both burned

before and smoked "unto" the Great Spirit.

{38} This word palindrome, though Greek, is intelligible to every Gipsy.

In both languages it means "back on the road."

{53} The Krallis's Gav, King's Village, a term also applied to Windsor.

{65} Pronounced cuv-vas, like _covers_ without the _r_.

{70} The Lord's Prayer in pure English Gipsy:--

"Moro Dad, savo djives oteh drey o charos, te caumen Gorgio ta Rommanny

chal tiro nav, te awel tiro tem, te kairen tiro lav aukko prey puv, sar

kairdios oteh drey o charos. Dey men todivvus more divvuskoe moro, ta

for dey men pazorrhus tukey sar men for-denna len pazhorrus amande; ma

muck te petrenna drey caik temptaciones; ley men abri sor doschder. Tiro

se o tem, mi-duvel, tiro o zoozlu vast, tiro sor koskopen drey sor

cheros. Avali. Tachipen."

Specimens of old English Gipsy, preserving grammatical forms, may be

found in Bright's Hungary (Appendix). London, 1818. I call attention to

the fact that all the specimens of the language which I give in this book

simply represent _the modern and greatly corrupted_ Rommany of the roads,

which has, however, assumed a peculiar form of its own.

{75} In gipsy _chores_ would mean swindles. In America it is applied to

small jobs.

{81} Vide chapter x.

{83} This should be _Bengo-tem_ or devil land, but the Gipsy who gave me

the word declared it was _bongo_.

{110} In English: "Water is the Great God, and it is Bishnoo or Vishnoo

because it falls from God. _Vishnu is then the Great God_?" "Yes; there

can be no forced meaning there, can there, sir? Duvel (God) is Duvel all

the world over; but correctly speaking, Vishnu is God's blood--I have

heard that many times. And the snow is feathers that fall from the

angels' wings. And what I said, that Bishnoo is God's Blood is old

Gipsy, and known by all our people."

{112} "Simurgh--a fabulous bird, _a griffin_."--_Brice's Hindustani

Dictionary_.

{124} Romi in Coptic signifies _a man_.

{127} Since writing the above I have been told that among many Hindus

"(good) evening" is the common greeting at any time of the day. And more

recently still, meeting a gentleman who during twelve years in India had

paid especial attention to all the dialects, I greeted him, as an

experiment, with "Sarisham!" He replied, 'Why, that's more elegant than

common Hindu--it's Persian!" "Sarisham" is, in fact, still in use in

India, as among the Gipsies. And as the latter often corrupt it into

_sha'shan_, so the vulgar Hindus call it "shan!" Sarishan means in

Gipsy, "How are you?" but its affinity with _sarisham_ is evident.

{133} Miklosich ("Uber die Mundarten de der Zigeuner," Wien, 1872)

gives, it is true, 647 Rommany words of Slavonic origin, but many of

these are also Hindustani. Moreover, Dr Miklosich treats as Gipsy words

numbers of Slavonian words which Gipsies in Slavonian lands have

Rommanised, but which are not generally Gipsy.

{171} Fortune-telling.

{189} In Egypt, as in Syria, every child is more or less marked by

tattooing. Infants of the first families, even among Christians, are

thus stamped.

{206} The Royston rook or crow has a greyish-white back, but is with

this exception entirely black.

{209} The peacock and turkey are called lady-birds in Rommany, because,

as a Gipsy told me, "they spread out their clothes, and hold up their

heads and look fine, and walk proud, like great ladies." I have heard a

swan called a pauno rani chillico--a white lady-bird.

{210} To make skewers is a common employment among the poorer English

Gipsies.

{213} This rhyme and metre (such as they are) were purely accidental

with my narrator; but as they occurred _verb. et lit_., I set them down.

{218} This story is well known to most "travellers." It is also true,

the "hero" being a _pash-and-pash_, or half-blood Rommany chal, whose

name was told to me.

{219} The reader will find in Lord Lytton's "Harold" mention of an Anglo-

Saxon superstition very similar to that embodied in the story of the

Seven Whistlers. This story is, however, entirely Gipsy.

{221a} This, which is a common story among the English Gipsies, and told

exactly in the words here given, is implicitly believed in by them.

Unfortunately, the terrible legends, but too well authenticated, of the

persecutions to which their ancestors were subjected, render it very

probable that it may have occurred as narrated. When Gipsies were hung

and transported merely for _being_ Gipsies, it is not unlikely that a

persecution to death may have originated in even such a trifle as the

alleged theft of a dish-clout.

{221b} Although they bear it with remarkable _apparent_ indifference,

Gipsies are in reality extremely susceptible to being looked at or

laughed at.

{235} This story was told me in a Gipsy tent near Brighton, and

afterwards repeated by one of the auditors while I transcribed it.