Part II.

Commencement of the Gipsy Crusade.

[Picture: A Gipsy's home for man, wife, and six children, Hackney Wick]

When as a lad I trudged along in the brick-yards, now more than forty

years ago, I remember most vividly that the popular song of the

_employes_ of that day was

"When lads and lasses in their best

Were dress'd from top to toe,

In the days we went a-gipsying

A long time ago;

In the days we went a-gipsying,

A long time ago."

Every "brick-yard lad" and "brick-yard wench" who would not join in

singing these lines was always looked upon as a "stupid donkey," and the

consequence was that upon all occasions, when excitement was needed as a

whip, they were "struck up;" especially would it be the case when the

limbs of the little brick and clay carrier began to totter and were

"fagging up." When the task-master perceived the "gang" had begun to

"slinker" he would shout out at the top of his voice, "Now, lads and

wenches, strike up with the:

"'In the days we went a-gipsying, a long time ago.'"

And as a result more work was ground out of the little English slave.

Those words made such an impression upon me at the time that I used to

wonder what "gipsying" meant. Somehow or other I imagined that it was

connected with fortune-telling, thieving and stealing in one form or

other, especially as the lads used to sing it with "gusto" when they had

been robbing the potato field to have "a potato fuddle," while they were

"oven tenting" in the night time. Roasted potatoes and cold turnips were

always looked upon as a treat for the "brickies." I have often vowed and

said many times that I would, if spared, try to find out what "gipsying"

really was. It was a puzzle I was always anxious to solve. Many times I

have been like the horse that shies at them as they camp in the ditch

bank, half frightened out of my wits, and felt anxious to know either

more or less of them. From the days when carrying clay and loading

canal-boats was my toil and "gipsying" my song, scarcely a week has

passed without the words

"When lads and lasses in their best

Were dress'd from top to toe,

In the days we went a-gipsying

A long time ago,"

ringing in my ears, and at times when busily engaged upon other things,

"In the days we went a-gipsying" would be running through my mind. In

meditation and solitude; by night and by day; at the top of the hill, and

down deep in the dale; in the throng and battle of life; at the deathbed

scene; through evil report and good report these words, "In the days we

went a-gipsying," were ever and anon at my tongue's end. The other part

of the song I quickly forgot, but these words have stuck to me ever

since. On purpose to try to find out what fortune-telling was, when in

my teens I used to walk after working hours from Tunstall to Fenton, a

distance of six miles, to see "old Elijah Cotton," a well-known character

in the Potteries, who got his living by it, to ask him all sorts of

questions. Sometimes he would look at my hands, at other times he would

put my hand into his, and hold it while he was reading out of the Bible,

and burning something like brimstone-looking powder--the forefinger of

the other hand had to rest upon a particular passage or verse; at other

times he would give me some of this yellow-looking stuff in a small paper

to wear against my left breast, and some I had to burn exactly as the

clock struck twelve at night, under the strictest secrecy. The stories

this fortune-teller used to relate to me as to his wonderful power over

the spirits of the other world were very amusing, aye, and over "the men

and women of this generation." He was frequently telling me that he had

"fetched men from Manchester in the dead of the night flying through the

air in the course of an hour;" and this kind of rubbish he used to relate

to those who paid him their shillings and half-crowns to have their

fortunes told. My visits lasted for a little time till he told me that

he could do nothing more, as I was "not one of his sort." Like Thomas

called Didymus, "hard of belief." Except an occasional glance at the

Gipsies as I have passed them on the road-side, the subject has been

allowed to rest until the commencement of last year, when I mentioned the

matter to my friends, who, in reply, said I should find it a difficult

task; this had the effect of causing a little hesitation to come over my

sensibilities, and in this way, between hesitation and doubt, matters

went on till one day in July last year, when the voice of Providence and

the wretched condition of the Gipsy children seemed to speak to me in

language that I thought it would be perilous to disregard. On my return

home one evening I found a lot of Gipsies in the streets; it struck me

very forcibly that the time for action had now arrived, and with this

view in mind I asked Moses Holland--for that was his name, and he was the

leader of the gang--to call into my house for some knives which required

grinding, and while his mate was grinding the knives, for which I had to

pay two shillings, I was getting all the information I could out of him

about the Gipsy children--this with some additional information given to

me by Mr. Clayton and several other Gipsies at Ashby-de-la-Zouch,

together with a Gipsy woman's tale to my wife, mentioned in my "Cry of

the Children from the Brick-yards of England," brought forth my first

letter upon the condition of the poor Gipsy children as it appeared in

the _Standard_, _Daily Chronicle_, and nearly every other daily paper on

August 14th of last year:--"Some years since my attention was drawn to

the condition of these poor neglected children, of whom there are many

families eking out an existence in the Leicestershire, Derbyshire, and

Staffordshire lanes. Two years since a pitiful appeal was made in one of

our local papers asking me to take up the cause of the poor Gipsy

children; but I have deferred doing so till now, hoping that some one

with time and money at his disposal would come to the rescue. Sir, a few

weeks since our legislators took proper steps to prevent the maiming of

the little show children, who are put through excruciating practices to

please a British public, and they would have done well at the same time

if they had taken steps to prevent the warping influence of a vagrant's

life having its full force upon the tribes of little Gipsy children,

dwelling in calico tents, within the sound of church bells--if living

under the body of an old cart, protected by patched coverlets, can be

called living in tents--on the roadside in the midst of grass, sticks,

stones, and mud; and they would have done well also if they had put out

their hand to rescue from idleness, ignorance, and heathenism our

roadside arabs, _i.e._, the children living in vans, and who attend

fairs, wakes, &c. Recently I came across some of these wandering tribes,

and the following facts gleaned from them will show that missionaries and

schoolmasters have not done much for them. Moses Holland, who has been a

Gipsy nearly all his life, says he knows about two hundred and fifty

families of Gipsies in ten of the Midland counties and thinks that a

similar proportion will be found in the rest of the United Kingdom. He

has seen as many as ten tents of Gipsies within a distance of five miles.

He thinks there will be an average of five children in each tent. He has

seen as many as ten or twelve children in some tents, and not many of

them able to read or write. His child of six months old--with his wife

ill at the same time in the tent--sickened, died, and was 'laid out' by

him, and it was also buried out of one of those wretched abodes on the

roadside at Barrow-upon-Soar, last January. When the poor thing died he

had not sixpence in his pocket. In shaking hands with him as we parted

his face beamed with gladness, and he said that I was the first who had

held out the hand to him during the last twenty years. At another time

later on I came across Bazena Clayton, who said that she had had sixteen

children, fifteen of whom are alive, several of them being born in a

roadside tent. She says that she was married out of one of these tents;

and her brother died and was buried out of a tent at Packington, near

Ashby-de-la-Zouch. This poor woman knows about three hundred families of

Gipsies in eleven of the Midland and Eastern counties, and has herself,

so she says, four lots of Gipsies travelling in Lincolnshire at the

present time. She said she could not read herself, and thinks that not

one Gipsy in twenty can. She has travelled all her life. Her mother,

named Smith, of whom there are not a few, is the mother of fifteen

children, all of whom were born in a tent. A Gipsy lives, but one can

scarcely tell how; they generally locate for a time near hen-roosts,

potato-camps, turnip-fields, and game-preserves. They sell a few

clothes-lines and clothes-pegs, but they seldom use such things

themselves. Washing would destroy their beauty. Telling fortunes to

servant girls and old maids is a source of income to some of them. They

sleep, but in many instances lie crouched together, like so many dogs,

regardless of either sex or age. They have blood, bone, muscle, and

brains, which are applied in many instances to wrong purposes. To have

between three and four thousand men and women, and fifteen thousand

children classed in the census as vagrants and vagabonds, roaming all

over the country, in ignorance and evil training, that carries peril with

it, is not a pleasant look-out for the future; and I claim on the grounds

of justice and equity, that if these poor children, living in vans and

tents and under old carts, are to be allowed to live in these places,

they shall be registered in a manner analogous to the Canal Boats Act of

1877, so that the children may be brought under the Compulsory Clauses of

the Education Acts, and become Christianised and civilised as other

children."

The foregoing letter, as it appeared in the _Standard_, brought forth the

following leading article upon the subject the following day, August

15th, in which the writer says:--"We yesterday published a letter from

Mr. George Smith, whose efforts to ameliorate and humanise the floating

and transitory population of our canals and navigable rivers have already

borne good fruit, in which he calls attention to the deserted and almost

hopeless lot of English Gipsy children. Moses Holland--the Hollands are

a Gipsy family almost as old as the Lees or the Stanleys, and a Holland

always holds high rank among the 'Romany' folk--assures Mr. Smith that in

ten of the Midland counties he knows some two hundred and fifty families

of Gipsies, and that none of their children can read or write. Bazena

Clayton, an old lady of caste, almost equal to that of a Lee or a

Holland, confirms the story. She has lived in tents all her life. She

was born in a tent, married from a tent, has brought up a family of

sixteen children, more or less, under the same friendly shelter, and

expects to breathe her last in a tent. That she can neither read nor

write goes without saying; although doubtless she knows well enough how

to 'kair her patteran,' or to make that strange cross in the dust which a

true Gipsy alway leaves behind him at his last place of sojourn, as a

mark for those of his tribe who may come upon his track. 'Patteran,' it

may be remarked, is an almost pure Sanscrit word cognate with our own

'path;' and the least philological raking among the chaff of the Gipsy

dialect will show their secret _argot_ to be, as Mr. Leland calls it, 'a

curious old tongue, not merely allied to Sanscrit, but perhaps in point

of age an elder though vagabond sister or cousin of that ancient

language.' No Sanscrit or even Greek scholar can fail to be struck by

the fact that, in the Gipsy tongue, a road is a 'drum,' to see is to

'dicker,' to get or take to 'lell,' and to go to 'jall;' or, after

instances so pregnant, to agree with Professor von Kogalnitschan that 'it

is interesting to be able to study a Hindu dialect in the heart of

Europe.' Mr. Smith, however, being a philanthropist rather than a

philologist, takes another view of the question. His anxiety is to see

the Gipsies--and especially the Gipsy children--reclaimed. 'A Gipsy,' he

reminds us, 'lives, but one can scarcely tell how; they generally locate

for a time near hen-roosts, potato-camps, turnip-fields, and

game-preserves. They sell a few clothes-lines and clothes-pegs; but they

seldom use such things themselves. Washing would destroy their beauty

. . . To have between three and four thousand men and women, and eight or

ten thousand children, classed in the census as vagrants and vagabonds,

roaming all over the country in ignorance and evil training, is not a

pleasant look-out for the future; and I claim that if these poor

children, living in vans and tents and under old carts, are to be allowed

to live in these places, they shall be registered in a manner analogous

to the Canal Boats Act, so that the children may be brought under the

Education Acts, and become Christianised and civilised.'

"Mr. Smith, it is to be feared, hardly appreciates the insuperable

difficulty of the task he proposes. The true Gipsy is absolutely

irreclaimable. He was a wanderer and a vagabond upon the face of the

earth before the foundations of Mycenae were laid or the plough drawn to

mark out the walls of Rome; and such as he was four thousand years ago or

more, such he still remains, speaking the same tongue, leading the same

life, cherishing the same habits, entertaining the same wholesome or

unwholesome hatred of all civilisation, and now, as then, utterly devoid

of even the simplest rudiments of religious belief. His whole attitude

of mind is negative. To him all who are not Gipsies, like himself, are

'Gorgios,' and to the true Gipsy a 'Gorgio' is as hateful as is a 'cowan'

to a Freemason. It would be interesting to speculate whether, when the

Romany folk first began their wanderings, the 'Gorgios' were not--as the

name would seem to indicate--the farmers or permanent population of the

earth; and whether the nomad Gipsy may not still hate the 'Gorgio' as

much as Cain hated Abel, Ishmael Isaac, and Esau Jacob. Certain in any

case it is that the Gipsy, however civilised he may appear, remains, as

Mr. Leland describes him, 'a character so entirely strange, so utterly at

variance with our ordinary conceptions of humanity, that it is no

exaggeration whatever to declare that it would be a very difficult task

for the best writer to convey to the most intelligent reader any idea of

such a nature.' The true Gipsy is, to begin with, as devoid of

superstition as of religion. He has no belief in another world, no fear

of a future state, nor hope for it, no supernatural object of either

worship or dread--nothing beyond a few old stories, some Pagan, some

Christian, which he has picked up from time to time, and to which he

holds--much as a child holds to its fairy tales--uncritically and

indifferently. Ethical distinctions are as unknown to him as to a kitten

or a magpie. He is kindly by nature, and always anxious to please those

who treat him well, and to win their affection. But the distinction

between affection and esteem is one which he cannot fathom; and the

precise shade of _meum_ and _tuum_ is as absolutely unintelligible to him

as was the Hegelian antithesis between _nichts_ and _seyn_ to the late

Mr. John Stuart Mill. To make the true Gipsy we have only to add to this

an absolute contempt for all that constitutes civilisation. The Gipsy

feels a house, or indeed anything at all approaching to the idea of a

permanent dwelling, to amount to a positive restraint upon his liberty.

He can live on hedgehog and acorns--though he may prefer a fowl and

potatoes not strictly his own. Wherever a hedge gives shelter he will

roll himself up and sleep. And it is possibly because he has no property

of his own that he is so slow to recognise the rights of property in

others. But above all, his tongue--the weird, corrupt, barbarous

Sanscrit 'patter' or 'jib,' known only to himself and to those of his

blood--is the keynote of his strange life. In spite of every effort that

has been made to fathom it, the Gipsy dialect is still unintelligible to

'Gorgios'--a few experts such as Mr. Borrow alone excepted. But wherever

the true Gipsy goes he carries his tongue with him, and a Romany from

Hungary, ignorant of English as a Chippeway or an Esquimaux, will

'patter' fluently with a Lee, a Stanley, a Locke, or a Holland, from the

English Midlands, and make his 'rukkerben' at once easily understood.

Nor is this all, for there are certain strange old Gipsy customs which

still constitute a freemasonry. The marriage rites of Gipsies are a

definite and very significant ritual. Their funeral ceremonies are

equally remarkable. Not being allowed to burn their dead, they still

burn the dead man's clothes and all his small property, while they mourn

for him by abstaining--often for years--from something of which he was

fond, and by taking the strictest care never to even mention his name.

"What are we to do with children in whom these strange habits and

beliefs, or rather wants of belief, are as much part of their nature as

is their physical organisation? Darwin has told us how, after

generations had passed, the puppy with a taint of the wolf's blood in it

would never come straight to its master's feet, but always approach him

in a semicircle. Not Kuhleborhn nor Undine herself is less susceptible

of alien culture than the pure-blooded Gipsy. We can domesticate the

goose, we can tame the goldfinch and the linnet; but we shall never

reclaim the guinea-fowl, or accustom the swallow to a cage. Teach the

Gipsy to read, or even to write; he remains a Gipsy still. His love of

wandering is as keen as is the instinct of a migratory bird for its

annual passage; and exactly as the prisoned cuckoo of the first year will

beat itself to death against its bars when September draws near, so the

Gipsy, even when most prosperous, will never so far forsake the

traditions of his tribe as to stay long in any one place. His mind is

not as ours. A little of our civilisation we can teach him, and he will

learn it, as he may learn to repeat by rote the signs of the zodiac or

the multiplication table, or to use a table napkin, or to decorously

dispose of the stones in a cherry tart. But the lesson sits lightly on

him, and he remains in heart as irreclaimable as ever. Already, indeed,

our Gipsies are leaving us. They are not dying out, it is true. They

are making their way to the Far West, where land is not yet enclosed,

where game is not property, where life is free, and where there is always

and everywhere room to 'hatch the tan' or put up the tent. Romany will,

in all human probability, be spoken on the other side of the Atlantic

years after the last traces of it have vanished from amongst ourselves.

We begin even now to miss the picturesque aspects of Gipsy life--the

tent, the strange dress, the nomadic habits. English Gipsies are no

longer pure and simple vagrants. They are tinkers, or scissor-grinders,

or basket-makers, or travel from fair to fair with knock-'em-downs, or

rifle galleries, or itinerant shows. Often they have some ostensible

place of residence. But they preserve their inner life as carefully as

the Jews in Spain, under the searching persecution of the Inquisition,

preserved their faith for generation upon generation; and even now it is

a belief that when, for the sake of some small kindness or gratuity, a

Gipsy woman has allowed her child to be baptised, she summons her

friends, and attempts to undo the effect of the ceremony by subjecting

the infant to some weird, horrible incantation of Eastern origin, the

original import of which is in all probability a profound mystery to her.

There is a quaint story of a Yorkshire Gipsy, a prosperous horse-dealer,

who, becoming wealthy, came up to town, and, amongst other sights, was

shown a goldsmith's window. His sole remark was that the man must be a

big thief indeed to have so many spoons and watches all at once. The

expression of opinion was as naive and artless as that of Blucher, when

observing that London was a magnificent city 'for to sack.' Mr. Smith's

benevolent intentions speak for themselves. But if he hopes to make the

Gipsy ever other than a Gipsy, to transform the Romany into a Gorgio, of

to alter habits of life and mind which have remained unchanged for

centuries, he must be singularly sanguine, and must be somewhat too

disposed to overlook the marvellously persistent influences of race and

tongue."

Rather than the cause of the children should suffer by presenting garbled

or one-sided statements, I purpose quoting the letters and articles upon

the subject as they have appeared. To do otherwise would not be fair to

the authors or just to the cause I have in hand. The flattering

allusions and compliments relating to my humble self I am not worthy of,

and I beg of those who take an interest in the cause of the little ones,

and deem this book worthy of their notice, to pass over them as though

such compliments were not there. The following are some of the letters

that have appeared in the _Standard_ in reply to mine of the 14th

instant. "B. B." writes on August 16th:--"Would you allow an Irish Gipsy

to express his views touching George Smith's letter of this date in your

paper? Without in the least desiring to warp his efforts to improve any

of his fellow-creatures, it seems to me that the poor Gipsy calls for

much less sympathy, as regards his moral and social life, than more

favoured classes of the community. Living under the body of an old cart,

'within the sound of church bells,' in the midst of grass, sticks, and

stones, by no means argues moral degradation; and if your correspondent

looks up our criminal statistics he will not find one Gipsy registered

for every five hundred criminals who have not only been within hearing of

the church bells but also listening to the preacher's voice. It should

be remembered that the poor Gipsy fulfils a work which is a very great

convenience to dwellers in out-of-the-way places--brushes, baskets, tubs,

clothes-stops, and a host of small commodities, in themselves apparently

insignificant, but which enable this tribe to eke out a living which

compares very favourably with the hundreds of thousands in our large

cities who set the laws of the land as well as the laws of decency at

defiance. As to education--well, let them get it, if possible; but it

will be found they possess, as a rule, sufficient intelligence to

discharge the duties of farm-labourers; and already they are beginning to

supply a felt want to the agriculturist whose educated assistant leaves

him to go abroad."

"An Old Woman" writes as follows:--"In the article on Gipsies in the

_Standard_ of to-day I was struck with the truth of this; remark--'He is

kindly by nature, and always anxious to please those who treat him well,

and to win their affections.' I can give you one instance of this in my

own family, although it happened long, long ago. The Boswell tribe of

Gipsies used to encamp once a year near the village in which my

grandfather (my mother's father), who was a miller and farmer, lived; and

there grew up a very kindly feeling between the head of the tribe and my

grandfather and his family. Some of the Gipsies would often call at my

grandfather's house, where they were always received kindly, and oftener

still, on business or otherwise, at the mill, to see 'Pe-tee,' as they

called my grandfather, whose Christian name was Peter. Once upon a time

my grandfather owed a considerable sum of money, and, alas! could not pay

it; and his wife and children were much distressed. I believe they

feared he would be arrested. Everything is known in a village; and the

news of what was feared reached the Gipsies. The idea of their friend

Pe-tee being in such trouble was not borne quietly; the chief and one or

two more appeared at the farm-house, asking to see my grandmother. They

told her they had come to pay my grandfather's debt; 'he should never be

distressed for the money,' they said, 'as long as they had any.' I

believe some arrangement had been made about the debt, but nevertheless

my grandmother felt just as grateful for the kindness. The head of the

tribe wore guineas instead of buttons to his coat, and when his daughter

was married her dowry was measured in guineas, in a pint measure. I

suppose, as in the old ballad of 'The Beggar of Bethnal Green,' the

suitor would give measure for measure. The villagers all turned out to

gaze each year when they heard the 'Boswell gang' were coming down the

one long street; the women of the tribe, fine, bold, handsome-looking

women, in 'black beaver bonnets, with black feathers and red cloaks,'

sometimes quarrelled, and my mother, then a girl, saw the procession

several times stop in the middle of the village, and two women (sometimes

more) would fall out of the ranks, hand their bonnets to friends, strip

off cloak and gown, and fight in their 'shift' sleeves, using their fists

like men. The men of the tribe took no notice, stood quietly about till

the fight was over, and then the whole bevy passed on to their

camping-ground. My grandfather never passed the tents without calling in

to see his friends, and it would have been an offence indeed if he had

not partaken of some refreshment. Two or three times my mother

accompanied him, and whenever and wherever they met her they were always

very kind and respectful to 'Pe-tee's little girl.' In after years, when

visiting her native village, she often inquired if it was known what had

become of the tribe; at last she heard from some one it was thought they

had settled in Canada: at any rate they had passed away for ever from

that part of England."

Mr. Leland wrote as follows in the _Standard_, August 19:--"As you have

kindly cited my work on the English Gipsies in your article on them, and

as many of your readers are giving their opinions on this curious race,

perhaps you will permit me to make a few remarks on the subject. Mr.

Smith is one of those honest philanthropists whom it is the duty of every

one to honour, and I for one, honour him most sincerely for his kind

wishes to the Romany; but, with all my respect, I do not think he

understands the travellers, or that they require much aid from the

'Gorgios,' being quite capable of looking out for themselves. A _tacho

Rom_, or real Gipsy, who cannot in an emergency find his ten, or even

twenty, pounds is a very exceptional character. As I have, even within a

few days, been in company, and on very familiar footing with a great

number of Romanys of different families of the dark blood who spoke the

'jib' with unusual accuracy, I write under a fresh impression. The Gipsy

is almost invariably strong and active, a good rough rider and

pedestrian, and knowing how to use his fists. He leads a very hard life,

and is proud of his stamina and his pluck. Of late years he _kairs_, or

'houses,' more than of old, particularly during the winter, but his life

at best requires great strength and endurance, and this must, of course,

be supported by a generous diet. In fact, he lives well, much better

than the agricultural labourer. Let me explain how this is generally

done. The Gipsy year may be said to begin with the races. Thither the

dark children of Chun-Gwin, whether pure blood, _posh an' posh_

(half-and-half), or _churedis_, with hardly a drop of the _kalo-ratt_,

flock with their cocoa-nuts and the balls, which have of late taken the

place of the _koshter_, or sticks. With them go the sorceresses, old and

young, who pick up money by occasional _dukkerin_, or fortune-telling.

Other small callings they also have, not by any means generally

dishonest. Wherever there is an open pic-nic on the Thames, or a country

fair, or a regatta at this season, there are Romanys. Sometimes they

appear looking like petty farmers, with a bad, or even a good, horse or

two for sale. While summer lasts this is the life of the poorer sort.

"This merry time over, they go to the _Livinengro tem_, or

hop-land--_i.e._, Kent. Here they work hard, not neglecting the

beer-pot, which goes about gaily. In this life they have great

advantages over the tramps and London poor. Hopping over, they go,

almost _en masse_, or within a few days, to London to buy French and

German baskets, which they get in Houndsditch. Of late years they send

more for the baskets to be delivered at certain stations. Some of them

make baskets themselves very well, but, as a rule, they prefer to buy

them. While the weather is good they live by selling baskets, brooms,

clothes-lines, and other small wares. Most families have their regular

'beats' or rounds, and confine themselves to certain districts. In

winter the men begin to _chiv the kosh_, or cut wood--_i.e._, they make

butchers' skewers and clothes-pegs. Even this is not unprofitable, as a

family, what between manufacturing and selling them, can earn from twelve

to eighteen shillings a week. With this and begging, and occasional jobs

of honest hard work which they pick up here and there, they contrive to

feed well, find themselves in beer, and pay, as they now often must, for

permission to camp in fields. Altogether they work hard and retire

early.

"Considering the lives they lead, Gipsies are not dishonest. If a Gipsy

is camped anywhere, and a hen is missing for miles around, the theft is

always at once attributed to him. The result is that, being sharply

looked after by everybody, and especially by the police, they cannot act

like their ancestors. Their crimes are not generally of a heinous

nature. _Chiving a gry_, or stealing a horse, is, I admit, looked upon

by them with Yorkshire leniency, nor do they regard stealing wood for

fuel as a great sin. In this matter they are subject to great

temptation. When the nights are cold--

"Could anything be more alluring

Than an old hedge?

"As for Gipsy lying, it is so peculiar that it would be hard to explain.

The American who appreciates the phrase 'to sit down and swap lies' would

not be taken in by a Romany _chal_, nor would an old salt who can spin

yarns. They enjoy hugely being lied unto, as do all Arabs or Hindus.

Like many naughty children, they like successful efforts of the

imagination. The old _dyes_, or mothers, are 'awful beggars,' as much by

habit as anything; but they will give as freely as they will take, and

their guest will always experience Oriental hospitality. They are very

fond of all gentlemen and ladies who take a real interest in them, who

understand them, and like them. To such people they are even more honest

than they are to one another. But it must be a real _aficion_, not a

merely amateur affectation of kindness. Owing to their entire ignorance

of ordinary house and home life, they are like children in many respects,

though so shrewd in others. Among the Welsh Gipsies, who are the most

unsophisticated and the most purely Romany, I have met with touching

instances of gratitude and honesty. The child-like ingenuity which some

of them manifested in contriving little gratifications for myself and for

Professor E. H. Palmer, who had been very kind to them, were as naive as

amiable. I have observed that some Gipsies of the more rustic sort loved

to listen to stories, but, like children, they preferred those which they

had heard several times and learned to like. They knew where the laugh

ought to come in. The Gipsy is both bad and good, but neither his faults

nor his virtues are exactly what they are supposed to be. He is

certainly something of a scamp--and, _nomen est omen_, there is a tribe

of Scamps among them--but he is not a bad scamp, and he is certainly a

most amusing and eccentric one.

"There is not the least use in trying to ameliorate the condition of the

Gipsy while he remains a traveller. He will tell you piteous stories,

but he will take care of himself. As Ferdusi sings:

"'Say what you will and do what you can,

No washing e'er whitens the black Zingan.'

"The only kindness he requires is a little charity and forgiveness when

he steals wood or wires a hare. All wrong doubtless; but something

should be allowed to one whose ancestors were called 'dead-meat eaters'

in the Shastras. Should the reader wish to reform a Gipsy, let him

explain to the Romany that the days for roaming in England are rapidly

passing away. Tell him that for his children's sake he had better rent a

cheap cottage; that his wife can just as well peddle with her basket from

a house as from a waggon, and that he can keep a horse and trap and go to

the races or hopping 'genteely.' Point out to him those who have done

the same, and stimulate his ambition and pride. As for suffering as a

traveller he does not know it. I once asked a Gipsy girl who was sitting

as a model if she liked the _drom_ (road) best, or living in a house.

With sparkling eyes and clapping her hands she exclaimed, 'oh, the road!

the road!'"

Mr. Beerbohm writes under date August 19th:--"In reading yesterday's

article on the customs and idiosyncrasies of Gipsies I was struck by the

similarity they present to many peculiarities I have observed among the

Patagonian Indians. To those curious in such matters it may be of

interest to know that the custom of burning all the goods and chattels of

a deceased member of the tribe prevails among the Patagonians as among

the Gipsies; and the identity of custom is still further carried out,

inasmuch as with the former, as with the latter, the name of the deceased

is never uttered, and all allusion to him is strictly avoided. So much

so, that in those cases when the deceased has borne some cognomen taken

from familiar objects, such as 'Knife,' 'Wool,' 'Flint,' &c., the word is

no longer used by the tribe, some other sound being substituted instead.

This is one of the reasons why the Tshuelche language is constantly

fluctuating, but few of the words expressing a proper meaning, as

chronicled by Fitzroy and Darwin (1832), being now in use."

The Rev. Mr. Hewett writes to the _Standard_, under date August 19th, to

say that he baptised two Gipsy children in 1871. One might ask, in the

language of one of the "Old Book," "What are these among so many?" The

following letter from Mr. Harrison upon the subject appeared on August

20th:--"I have just returned from the head-quarters of the Scotch

Gipsies--Yetholm (Kirk), a small village nestling at the foot of the

Cheviots in Roxburghshire. Here I saw the abode of the Queen, a neat

little cottage, with well-trimmed garden in front. Inside all was a

perfect pattern of neatness, and the old lady herself was as clean 'as a

new pin.' As I passed the cottage a carriage and pair drove up, and the

occupants, four ladies, alighted and entered the cottage. I was

afterwards told that they were much pleased with their visit, and that,

in remembrance of it, each of the four promised to send a new frock to

the Queen's grandchild. The Queen's son ('the Prince,' as he is called)

I saw at St. James's Fair, where he was swaggering about in a drunken

state, offering to fight any man. I believe he was subsequently locked

up. In the month of August there are few Gipsies resident in Yetholm:

they are generally on their travels selling crockeryware (the country

people call the Gipsies 'muggers,' from the fact that they sell mugs),

baskets made of rushes, and horn spoons, both of which they manufacture

themselves. I have a distinct recollection of Will Faa, the then King of

the Gipsies. He was 95 when I knew him, and was lithe and strong. He

had a keen hawk eye, which was not dimmed at that extreme age. He was

considered both a good shot and a famous fisher. There was hardly a

trout hole in the Bowmont Water but he knew, and his company used to be

eagerly sought by the fly-fishers who came from the South. My opinion of

the Gipsies--and I have seen much of them during the last forty years--is

that they are a lazy, dissolute set of men and women, preferring to beg,

or steal, or poach, to work, and that, although many efforts have been

made (more especially by the late Rev. Mr. Baird, of Yetholm), to settle

them, they are irreclaimable. There are but two policemen in Yetholm and

Kirk Yetholm, but sometimes the assistance of some of the townsfolk is

required to bring about order in that portion of the village in which the

Gipsies reside. I may say that the townsfolk do not fraternise with the

Gipsies, who are regarded with the greatest suspicion by the former. Ask

a townsman of Yetholm what he thinks of the Gipsies, and he will tell you

they are simply vagabonds and impostors, who lounge about, and smoke, and

drink, and fight. In fact, they are the very scum of the human race;

and, what is more singular, they seem quite satisfied to remain as they

are, repudiating every attempt at reformation."

"F. G. S." writes:--"One of your correspondents suggests that the silence

of the Gipsies concerning their dead is carried so far as to consign them

to nameless graves. In my churchyard there is a headstone, 'to the

memory of Mistress Paul Stanley, wife of Mr. Paul Stanley, who died

November, 1797,' the said Mistress Stanley having been the Queen of the

Stanley tribe. In my childhood I remember that annually some of the

members of the tribe used to come and scatter flowers over the grave; and

when my father had restored the stone, on its falling into decay, a

deputation of the tribe thanked him for so doing. I have reason to think

they still visit the spot, to find, I am sorry to say, the stone so

decayed now as to be past restoration, and I would much like to see

another with the same inscription to mark the resting-place of the head

of a leading tribe of these interesting people."

[Picture: Gipsies Camping among the Heath near London]

To these letters I replied as under, on August 21st:--"The numerous

correspondents who have taken upon themselves to reply to my letter that

appeared in your issue of the 14th inst., and to show up Gipsy life in

some of its brightest aspects, have, unwittingly, no doubt, thoroughly

substantiated and backed up the cause of my young clients--_i.e._, the

poor Gipsy children and our roadside arabs--so far as they have gone, as

a reperusal of the letters will show the most casual observer of our

hedge-bottom heathens of Christendom. At the same time, I would say the

tendency of some of the remarks of your correspondents has special

reference to the adult Gipsies, roamers and ramblers, and, consequently,

there is a fear that the attention of some of your readers may be drawn

from the cause of the poor uneducated children, living in the midst of

sticks, stones, ditches, mud, and game, and concentrated upon the 'guinea

buttons,' 'black-haired Susans,' 'red cloaks,' 'scarlet hoods,' the

cunning craft of the old men, the fortune-telling of the old women, the

'sparkling eyes' and 'clapping of hands,' and 'twopenny hops' of the

young women, who certainly can take care of themselves, just as other

un-Christianised and uncivilised human beings can. I do not profess--at

any rate, not for the present--to take up the cause of the men and women

ditch-dwelling Gipsies in this matter; I must leave that part of the work

to fiction writers, clergymen, and policemen, abler hands than mine. I

may not be able, nor do I profess, to understand the singular number of

the masculine gender of _dad_, _chavo_, _tikeno_, _moosh_, _gorjo_,

_raklo_, _rakli_, _pal palla_; the feminine gender _dei_, _tikeno_,

_chabi_, _joovel_, _gairo_, _rakle_, _raklia_, _pen penya_, or the plural

of the masculine gender _dada_, _chavi_, and the feminine gender _deia_,

_chavo_; but, being a matter of fact kind of man--out of the region of

romance, fantastical notions, enrapturing imagery, nicely coloured

imagination, clever lying and cleverer deception, beautiful green fields,

clear running rivulets, the singing of the wood songster, bullfinch, and

wren, in the midst of woodbine, sweetbriar, and roses--with an eye to

observe, a heart to feel, and a hand ready to help, I am led to

contemplate, aye, and to find out if possible, the remedy, though my

friends say it is impossible--just because it is impossible it becomes

possible, as in the canal movement--for the wretched condition of some

eight to ten thousand little Gipsy children, whose home in the winter is

camping half-naked in a hut, so called, in the midst of 'slush' and snow,

on the borders of a picturesque ditch and roadside, winterly delights,

Sunday and week day alike. The tendency of human nature is to look on

the bright side of things; and it is much more pleasant to go to the edge

of a large swamp, lie down and bask in the summer's sun, making

'button-holes' of daisies, buttercups, and the like, and return home and

extol the fine scenery and praise the richness of the land, than to take

the spade, in shirt-sleeves and heavy boots, and drain the poisonous

water from the roots of vegetation. Nevertheless, it has to be done, if

the 'strong active limbs' and 'bright sparkling eyes' are to be turned to

better account than they have been in the past. It is not creditable to

us as a Christian nation, in size compared with other nations not much

larger than a garden, to have had for centuries these heathenish tribes

in our midst. It does not speak very much for the power of the Gospel,

the zeal of the ministers of Christ's Church, and the activity of the

schoolmaster, to have had these plague spots continually flitting before

our eyes without anything being done to effect a cure. It is true

something has been done. One clergyman, who has 'had opportunities of

observing them,' if not brought in daily contact with them, tells us that

some eight or nine years since he publicly baptised two Gipsy children.

Another tells us that some time since he baptised many Gipsy children, as

if baptism was the only thing required of the poor children for the

duties and responsibilities of life and a future state. Better a

thousand times have told us how many poor roadside arabs and Gipsy

children they have taken by the hand to educate and train them, so as to

be able to earn an honest livelihood, instead of 'cadging' from door to

door, and telling all sorts of silly stories and lies. How many poor

children's lives have been sacrificed at the hands of cruelty,

starvation, and neglect, and buried under a clod without the shedding of

a tear, it is fearful to contemplate. The idlers, loafers, rodneys,

mongrels, gorgios, and Gipsies are increasing, and will increase, in our

midst, unless we put our hand upon the system, from the simple fact that

by packing up with wife and children and 'taking to the road,' he thus

escapes taxes, rent, and the School-board officer. This they see, and a

'few kind words' and 'gentle touches' will never cause them to see it in

any other light. The sooner we get the ideal, fanciful, and romantic

side of a vagrant's and vagabond's life removed from our vision, and see

things as they really are, the better it will be for us. For the life of

me I cannot see anything romantic in dirt, squalor, ignorance, and

misery. Ministers and missionaries have completely failed in the work,

for the simple reason that they have never begun it in earnest;

consequently, the schoolmaster and School-board officer must begin to do

their part in reclaiming these wandering tribes, and this can only be

done in the manner stated by me in my previous letter."

In the _Leicester Free Press_ the following appeared on August

16th:--"Mr. George Smith, of Coalville, is earning the title of the

Children's Friend. His 'Cry of the Brick-yard Children' rang through

England, and issued in measures being adopted for their protection. His

description of the canal-boat children has also resulted in legislation

for their relief. Now I see Mr. Smith has put in a good word for Gipsy

children. It will surprise a good many who seldom see or hear of these

Gipsies, except perhaps at the races, to find how numerous they are even

in this county. I do not think the number is at all exaggerated. A few

days ago while driving down a rural lane in the country I 'interviewed'

one of these children, who had run some hundreds of yards ahead, in order

to open a gate. At first the young, dark-eyed, swarthy damsel declared

she did not know how many brothers and sisters she had, but on being

asked to mention their names she rattled them over, in quick succession,

giving to each Christian name the surname of Smith--thus, Charley Smith,

Emma Smith, Fanny Smith, Bill Smith, and the like, till she had

enumerated either thirteen or fifteen juvenile Smiths, all of whom lived

with their parents in a tent which was pitched not far from the side of

the lane. Of education the child had had none, but she said she went to

church on a Sunday with her sister. This is a sample of the kind of

thing which prevails, and in his last generous movement Mr. Smith, of

Coalville, will be acting a good part to numerous children who, although

unable to claim relationship, rejoice in the same patronymic as himself."

In the _Derby Daily Telegraph_, under date August 16th, the following

leading article was published:--"When the social history of the present

generation comes to be written a prominent place among the list of

practical philanthropists will be assigned to George Smith, of Coalville.

The man is a humanitarian to the manner born. His character and labours

serve to remind us of the broad line which separates the real apostle of

benevolence from what may be termed the 'professional' sample. George

Smith goes about for the purpose of doing good, and--he does it. He does

not content himself with glibly talking of what needs to be done, and

what ought to be done. He prefers to act upon the spirit of Mr. Wackford

Squeers' celebrated educational principle. Having discovered a sphere of

Christian duty he goes and 'works' it. Few more splendid monuments of

practical charity have been reared than the amelioration of the social

state of our canal population--an achievement which has mainly been

brought about by Mr. Smith's indomitable perseverance and self-denial. A

few years ago we were accustomed to speak of the dwellers in these

floating hovels as beings who dragged out a degraded existence in a

far-off land. We were gloomily told that they could not be reached.

Orators at fashionable missionary-meetings were wont to speak of them as

irreclaimable heathens who bid defiance to civilising influences from

impenetrable fastnesses. Mr. George Smith may be credited with having

broken down this discreditable state of things. He brought us face to

face with this unfortunate section of our fellow-creatures, with what

result it is not necessary to say. The sympathies of the public were

effectually roused by the narratives which revealed to us the deplorable

depths of human depravity into which vast numbers of English people had

fallen. The sufferings of the children in the gloomy, pestiferous cabins

used for 'living' purposes especially excited the country's pity. At

this present moment the lot of these poor waifs is far from being

inviting, but it is vastly different from what it was a short time back.

It was only a few days ago that the Duke of Richmond, in reply to no less

a personage than the Archbishop of Canterbury, announced that express

arrangements had been made by the Government to meet the educational

requirements of the once helpless and neglected victims.

"Mr. Smith has now embarked upon a fresh crusade against misery and

ignorance. He has turned his attention from the 'water Gipsies' to their

brethren ashore. He has already began to busy himself with the condition

of 'our roadside arabs,' as he calls them. We fear Mr. Smith in

prosecuting this good work of his is doomed to perform a serious act of

disenchantment. The ideal Gipsy is destined to be scattered to the winds

by the unvarnished picture which Mr. Smith will cause to be presented to

our vision. He does not pretend to show us the romantic,

fantastically-dressed creature whose prototypes have long been in the

imaginations of many of us as types of the Gipsy species. Those of our

readers who have formed their notions of Gipsy life upon the strength of

the assurances which have been given them by the late Mr. G. P. R. James

and kindred writers will find it hard to substitute for the joyous scenes

of sunshine and freedom he has associated with the nomadic existence, the

dull, wearisome round of squalor and wretchedness which is found, upon

examination, to constitute the principal condition of the Gipsy tent.

Whether it is that in this awfully prosaic period of the world's history

the picturesque and jovial rascality which novelist and poet have

insisted in connecting with the Ishmaelites is stamped ruthlessly out of

being by force of circumstances, it is barely possible to say. Perhaps

Gipsies, in common with other tribes of the romantic past, have gradually

become denuded of their old attractiveness. It is, we confess, rather

difficult to believe that Bamfylde Moore Carew (wild, restless fellow

though he was) would persistently have linked his lot with that of the

poor, degraded, poverty-stricken wretches whom Mr. Smith has taken in

hand. Perchance it happens that our old heroes of song and story have,

so far as England is concerned, deteriorated as a consequence of the

money-making, business-like atmosphere that they are compelled to

breathe, and that with more favoured climes they are to be seen in much

of their primitive glory. In Hungary, for instance, it is declared that

Gipsy life is pretty much what it is represented to be in our own glowing

pages of fiction. The late Major Whyte-Melville, in a modern story

declared to be founded on fact, introduces us to a company of these

continental wanderers who, with their beautiful Queen, seem to invest the

scenes from our old friend, 'The Bohemian Girl,' with something akin to

probability. But there is, of course, a limit to even Mr. Smith's

labours. Hungary is beyond his jurisdiction. He does not pretend to

carry his experience of the Gipsies further than the Midlands.

Derbyshire, Staffordshire, and our neighbouring counties have offered him

the examples he requires with his new campaign. The lot of the roamers

who eke out a living in the adjacent lanes and roadways is, he explains

to us, as pitiful as anything of the sort well could be. The tent of the

Gipsy he finds to be as filthy and as repulsive as the cabin of the

canal-boat. Human beings of both sexes and of all ages are huddled

together without regard to comfort. As a necessary sequence the women

and children are the chief sufferers in a social evil of this sort. The

men are able to rough it, but the weaker sex and their little charges are

reduced to the lowest paths of misery. Children are born, suffer from

disease, and die in the canvas hovels; and are committed to the dust by

the roadside. One old woman told Mr. Smith 'that she had had sixteen

children, fifteen of whom are alive, several of them being born in a

roadside tent. She says that she was married out of one of these tents;

and her brother died and was buried out of a tent at Packington, near

Ashby-de-la-Zouch.' The experience of this old crone is akin to that of

most of her class. She also tells Mr. Smith that she could not read

herself, and she did not believe one in twenty could. Morally, as well

as from a sanitary point of view, Gipsy life, as it really exists, is a

social plague-spot, and consequently a social danger. Especially does

this contention apply to the children, of whom Mr. Smith estimates that

there are ten thousand roaming over the face of the country as vagrants

and vagabonds. It is to be hoped many months will not be allowed to

elapse before this difficulty is seriously and successfully grappled

with. Mr. Smith's counsel as to the children is that 'living in vans and

tents and under old carts, if they are to be allowed to live in these

places they should be registered in a manner analogous to the Canal Boats

Act of 1877, so that the children may be brought under the compulsory

clauses of the Education Acts, and become Christianised and civilised as

other children.' The Duke of Richmond and his department may do much to

facilitate Mr. Smith's crusade without temporising with the prejudices of

red-tapeism."

_Figaro_ writes August 27th:--"Our old friend having successfully tackled

the brick-yard children, and the floating waifs and strays of our barge

population, has now taken the little Gipsies in hand, with a view of

bringing them under the supervision of the School Board system now

general in this country. He is a bold and energetic man, but we are

bound to say we doubt a little whether he will be able to tame the

offspring of the merry Zingara, and pass them all through the regulation

educational standard. Should he succeed, we shall be thenceforth

surprised at nothing, but be quite prepared to hear that Mr. Smith has

become chairman of a society for changing the spots of the leopard, or

honorary director of an association for changing the Ethiopian's skin!"

The following letter from the Rev. J. Finch, a rural dean, appeared in

the _Standard_, August 30th:--"The following facts may not be without

some interest to those who have read the letters which have recently

appeared in the pages of the _Standard_ respecting Gipsies. During the

thirty years I have been rector of this parish, members of the Boswell

family have been almost constantly resident here. I buried the head of

the family in 1874, who died at the age of 87. He was a regular

attendant at the parish church, and failed not to bow his head reverently

when he entered within the House of God. His burial was attended by

several sons resident, as Gipsies, in the Midland counties, and a

headstone marks the grave where his body rests. I never saw, or heard,

any harm of the man. He was a quiet and inoffensive man, and worked

industriously as a tinman within a short time of his death. If he had

rather a sharp eye for a little gift, that is a trait of character by no

means confined to Gipsies. One of his daughters was married here to a

member of the Boswell tribe, and another, who rejoiced in the name of

Britannia, I buried in her father's grave two years ago. After his death

she and her mother removed to an adjoining parish, where she was

confirmed by Bishop Selwyn in 1876. Regular as was the old man at

church, I never could persuade his wife to come. In 1859 I baptized,

privately, an infant of the same tribe, whose parents were travelling

through the parish, and whose mother was named Elvira. Great was the

admiration of my domestics at the sight of the beautiful lace which

ornamented the robe in which the child was brought to my house. Clearly

there are Gipsies, and those of a well-known tribe, glad to receive the

ministrations of the Church."

I next turned my steps towards London, having heard that Gipsies were to

be found in the outskirts of this Babylon. I set off early one morning

in quest of them from my lodgings, not knowing whither; but my earliest

association came to my relief. Knowing that Gipsies are generally to be

found in the neighbourhood of brick-yards, I took the 'bus to Notting

Hill, and after asking the policeman, for neither clergyman or other

ministers could tell me where they were to be found, I wended my way to

Wormwood Scrubs, and the following letter, which appeared in the _Daily

News_, September 6th of last year, is the outcome of that "run out," and

is as follows:--"It has been the custom for years--I might almost say

centuries--when speaking of the Gipsies, to introduce in one form or

other during the conversation either 'the King of the Gipsies,' 'the

Queen,' or some other member of 'the Royal Family.' It may surprise many

of your readers who cling to the romantic side of a Gipsy's life, and

shut their eyes to the fearful amount of ignorance, wretchedness, and

misery there is amongst them, to say that this extraordinary being is

nothing but a mythological jack-o'-th'-lantern, phantom of the brain,

illusion, the creation of lying tongues practising the art of deception

among some of the 'green horns' in the country lanes, or on the village

greens. It is true there are some 'horse-leeches' among the Gipsies who

have got fat out of their less fortunate hedge-bottom brethren and the

British public, who delight in calling them either 'the King,' 'Queen,'

'Prince,' or 'Princess.' It is true also that there are vast numbers of

the Gipsies who, with a chuckle, tongue in cheek, wink of the eye, side

grin and a sneer, say they have these important personages amongst them;

and if any little extra stir is being made at a fair-time in the country

lanes, in the neighbourhood of straw-yards, they will be sure to tell

them that either the 'king,' 'queen,' or some member of the 'royal

family' is being married or visiting them; and nothing pleases the poor,

ignorant Gipsies better than to get the bystanders, with mouths open, to

believe their tales and lies. I should think that there is scarcely a

county in England but what a Gipsy king's or queen's wedding has not

taken place there within the last twenty years. There was one in

Bedfordshire not long since; another at Epping Forest; and the last I

heard of this wonderful airy being was that he had taken up his

head-quarters at the Royal Hotel, Liverpool, and a carriage with eight

wheels and six piebald horses had been presented to him as a wedding

present from the Gipsies. Gipsy 'kings,' 'queens,' and 'princes,' their

marriages and deaths, are innumerable among the 'royal family.' It is

equally believing in moonshine and air-bubbles to believe that the

Gipsies never speak of their dead. There is a beautiful headstone put in

a little churchyard about two and a half miles from Barnet in memory of

the Brinkly family, and it is carefully looked after by members of the

family; one of the Lees has a tombstone erected to his memory in Hanwell

Cemetery; and such silly nonsense is put out by the cunning, crafty

Gipsies as 'dazzlers,' to enable them more readily to practise the art of

lying and deception upon their gullible listeners. Then again, with

reference to the Gipsies having a religion of their own. There is not a

word of truth in this imaginative notion prevalent in the minds or some

who have been trying to study their habits. Excepting the language of

some of the old-fashioned real Gipsies, and a few other little

peculiarities, any one studying the real hard facts of a Gipsy's life

with reference to the amount of ignorance, and everything that is bad

among them, will come to the conclusion that there is much among them to

compare very unfavourably with the most neglected in our back streets and

slums. Of course, there are some good among them, as with other

'ragamuffin' ramblers. The following particulars, related to me by a

well-known Gipsy woman in the neighbourhood of 'Wormwood Scrubs' and the

'North Pole,' remarkable for her truthfulness, honesty, and uprightness,

will tend to show that my previous statement as regards the amount of

ignorance prevalent among the poor Gipsy children has not been

over-stated. She has had six brothers and one sister, all born in a

tent, and only one of the eight could read a little. She has had nine

children born in a tent, four of whom are alive, and only one could read

and write a little. She has seventeen grandchildren, and only two of

them can read and write a little, and thinks this a fair average of other

Gipsy children. She tells me that she got a most fat living for more

than twenty years by telling lies and fortunes to servant-girls, old

maids, and young men, mostly out of a book of which she could not read a

sentence, or tell a letter. She said she had heard that I had taken up

the cause of the poor Gipsy children to get them educated, and, with

hands uplifted and tears in her eyes, which left no doubt of her meaning,

said, 'I do hope from the bottom of my heart that God will bless and

prosper you in the work till a law is passed, and the poor Gipsy children

are brought under the School Board, and their parents compelled to send

them to school as other people are. The poor Gipsy children are poor,

ignorant things, I can assure you.' She also said 'Does the Queen wish

all our poor Gipsy children to be educated?' I told her that the Queen

took special interest in the children of the working-classes, and was

always pleased to hear of their welfare. Again, with tears trickling

down her face, she said, 'I do thank the Lord for such a good Queen, and

for such a noble-hearted woman. I do bless her. Do Thou, 'Lord, bless

her!' After some further conversation, and taking dinner with her in her

humble way in the van, she said she hoped I would not be insulted if she

offered me, as from a poor Gipsy woman, a shilling to help me in the work

of getting a law passed to compel the Gipsies to send their children to

school. I took the shilling, and, after making her a present of a copy

of the new edition of my 'Cry of the Children from the Brick-yards of

England,' which she wrapped in a beautiful white cloth, and after a shake

of the hand, we parted, hoping to meet again on some future day."

The foregoing letter brought forth the following letter from Mr. Daniel

Gorrie, and appeared in the _Daily News_ under date September 13th, as

under:--"Mr. George Smith, Coalville, Leicester, whose letter on the

above subject appears in your impression to-day, succeeded so well in his

efforts on behalf of the poor slave-children of the Midland brick-yards,

that it is to be hoped he will attain equal success in drawing attention

to the pitiful condition of the Gipsy children, who are allowed to grow

up as ignorant as savages that never saw the face nor heard the voice of

a Christian missionary. In one of the late Thomas Aird's poems, entitled

'A Summer Day,' there are some lines which, with your permission, I

should like to quote, that are in perfect accord with Mr. Smith's wise

and kindly suggestion. The lines are these:--

"'In yonder sheltered nook of nibbled sward,

Beside the wood, a Gipsy band are camped;

And there they'll sleep the summer night away.

By stealthy holes their ragged, brawny brood

Creep through the hedges, in their pilfering quest

Of sticks and pales to make their evening fire.

Untutored things scarce brought beneath the laws

And meek provisions of this ancient State.

Yet is it wise, with wealth and power like hers,

To let so many of her sons grow up

In untaught darkness and consecutive vice?

True, we are jealous, free, and hate constraint

And every cognisance, o'er private life;

Yet, not to name a higher principle,

'Twere but an institute of wise police

That every child, neglected of its own,

State claimed should be, State seized and taught and trained

To social duty and to Christian life.

Our liberties have limbs, manifold;

So let the national will, which makes restraint

Part of its freedom, oft the soundest part,

Power-arm the State to do the large design.'

"The above lines, I may add, were written by the poet (in losing whom Mr.

Thomas Carlyle lost one of his oldest and most valued friends) many, many

years before the Education Acts now in force came into existence. As

many parents might not like the idea of Gipsy children attending the same

Board schools as their own, would it not be possible to establish special

schools in those parts of the Midland counties where Gipsies 'most do

congregate'?"

To which I replied as under, in the _Daily News_ bearing date September

13th:--"In reply to Mr. Gorrie's letter which appears in your issue of

this morning, I consider that it would be unwise and impracticable to

build separate schools for either the brick-yard, canal-boat, Gipsy, or

other children moving about the country, in tents, vans, &c., for their

use solely; especially would it be so in the case of Gipsy children and

roadside arabs. What I have been and am still aiming at is the education

of these children, not by isolating them from other

working-classes--colliers, potters, ironworkers, factory hands,

tradesmen, &c.--but by bringing them in daily contact with the children

of these parents, and also under some of the influences of our little

missionary civilisers who are brought up and receiving some of their

education in drawing-rooms, and whose parents cannot afford to send them

to boarding-schools, colleges, &c., and have to content themselves by

having their children educated at either the national, British, or Board

schools. I confess that it is not pleasant to hear that our children

have picked up vulgar words at school; and it requires patience, care,

and watchfulness on the part of parents to counteract some of the

downward tendencies resulting from an uneven mixing of children brought

up and educated under such influences. Better by far put up with these

little ills than others we know not of, the outcome of ignorance. On the

other hand, it is pleasing to note how glad the parents of Gipsy,

canal-boat, and brick-yard children are when their children pick up 'fine

words' and become more 'gentlerified' by mixing with children higher up

the social scale. Bad habits, words, and actions are generally picked up

between school times. It would be well for us to rub down class feeling

among children as much as possible as regards their education. The

children of brick-makers, canal-boatmen, and Gipsies are of us and with

us, and must be taken hold of, educated, and elevated in things

pertaining to their future welfare. The 'turning up of the nose,' by

those whose duty, education, and privilege should have taught them better

things, at these poor children has had more to do in bringing about their

pitiable and ignorant condition than can be imagined. The Canal Boats

Act, if wisely carried out, will before long bring about the education of

the canal-boat children; and in order to bring the Gipsy children, show

children, and other roadside arabs under the Education Acts, I am seeking

to have all movable habitations, _i.e._, tents, vans, shows, &c., in

which the families live who are earning a living by travelling from place

to place, registered and numbered, as in the case of canal-boats, and the

parents compelled 'by hook or by crook' to send their children to school

at the place wherever they may be temporarily located, be it national,

British, or Board school. The education of these children should be

brought about at all risks and inconveniences, or we may expect a blacker

page in the social history of this country opening to our view than we

have seen for many a long day."

The following leading article upon Gipsies and other tramps of a similar

class appeared in the _Standard_, September 10th, 1879, and as it relates

to the subject I have in hand I quote it in full:--"Not only in his

'Uncommercial Traveller,' but in many other scattered passages of his

works, Dickens, who for many years lived in Kent, has described the

intolerable nuisance inflicted by tramps upon residents in the home

counties, and has sketched the natural history of the sturdy vagabond who

infests our roads and highways from early spring to late autumn, with a

minuteness and power of detail worthy of a Burton. The subject of

vagabondage is not, however, confined in its interest to the Metropolis

and its adjacent parts. In the United States the habitual beggar has

become as serious a nuisance, and, indeed, source of positive danger, as

he was once amongst ourselves; and in the State of Pennsylvania more

especially it has been found necessary to pass what may be described as

an Habitual Vagrants Act for his suppression. That the terms of this

enactment should be excessively severe is hardly matter of astonishment,

when we bear in mind the fate of little Charley Ross. Early in the year

1874 a couple of men who were travelling up and down the country in a

waggon stole from the home of his parents in Germantown, Pennsylvania, a

boy of some seven years named Charley Ross. They then sent letters

demanding a large sum of money for his restoration. The ransom

increased, until no less than twenty thousand dollars was insisted upon.

While the parents, on the one hand, were attempting to raise the money,

and while the police were endeavouring to arrest the kidnappers, all

negotiations fell through. The two men believed to have been concerned

in the abduction were shot down in the act of committing a burglary on

Rhode Island, and from that day to this the fate of Charley Ross has

remained a mystery. Under these circumstances, public opinion has

naturally run high, and it has been provided that any habitual tramp

making his way from place to place, without earning an honest livelihood,

shall be liable to imprisonment with hard labour for a period of twelve

months; and that tramps who enter dwellings without permission, who carry

fire-arms, or other weapons, or who threaten to injure either persons or

property, shall be put to work in the common penitentiary for a period of

three years. Pennsylvania in this is but reverting to the old law of

England in the Tudor days. In the time of Henry VIII. vagrants were

whipped at the cart's tail, without distinction of either sex or age.

The whipping-post, together with the stocks, was a conspicuous ornament

of every parish green, and it was not until the year 1791 that the

whipping of women was expressly forbidden by statute. There were other

enactments even more severe. By an act of Elizabeth idle soldiers and

marines, or persons pretending to be soldiers or marines, wandering about

the realm, were held _ipso facto_ guilty of felony, and hundreds of such

offenders were publicly executed. Another act of the same kind was

directed against Gipsies, by which any Gipsy, or any person over fourteen

who had been seen or found in their fellowship, was guilty of felony if

he remained a month in the kingdom; and in Hale's 'Pleas of the Crown' we

learn that at one Suffolk Assizes no less than thirteen Gipsies were

executed on the strength of this barbarous act, and without any other

reason or cause whatever.

"The ancient severity of our Statute Book has long since been modified,

and the worst that can now befall 'idle persons and vagabonds, such as

wake on the night and sleep on the day, and haunt customable taverns and

ale-houses, and routs about; and no man wot from whence they come ne

whither they go,' is a brief period of hard labour under the provisions

of the Vagrant Act. Under this comprehensive statute are swept together

as into one common net a vast variety of petty offenders, of whom some

are deemed 'idle and disorderly persons,' other 'rogues and vagabonds,'

and others again 'incorrigible rogues.' Under one or other of these

heads are unlicensed hawkers or pedlars; persons wandering abroad to beg

or causing any child to beg; persons lodging in any outhouse or in the

open air, not having any visible means of subsistence, and not giving a

good account of themselves; persons playing or betting in the public

street; and notorious thieves loitering about with intent to commit a

felony. At the present period of the year the country in the

neighbourhood not of the Metropolis alone, but of all large towns, is

filled with offenders of this kind. Indeed, the sturdy tramp renders the

country to a very great extent unsafe for ladies who have ventured to go

about without protection. Ostensibly he is a vendor of combs, or

bootlaces, or buttons, or is in quest of a hop-picking job, or is a

discharged soldier or sailor, or a labourer out of employment. But

whatever may be his pretence, his mode of procedure is more or less the

same. If he can come upon a roadside cottage left in the charge of a

woman, or possibly only of a young girl, he will demand food and money,

and if the demand be not instantly complied with will never hesitate at

violence. Indeed, when we remember how many horrible outrages have

within the last few years been committed by ruffians of this kind, it is

quite easy to understand the severity necessary in less civilised times.

Only recently the Spaniard Garcia murdered an entire family in Wales; and

some few years ago, at Denham, near Uxbridge, a small household was

butchered for the sake of a few shillings and such little plunder as the

humble cottage afforded. And although grave crimes of this kind are

happily rare, and tend to become rarer, petty violence is far from

uncommon. Many ladies resident in the country can tell how they have

been beset upon the highway by sturdy tramps of forbidding aspect, to

whom, in despair, they have given alms to an amount which practically

made the solicitation an act of brigandage. The farmer's wife and the

bailiff tell us how haystacks are converted into temporary

lodging-houses, chickens stolen, and outbuildings plundered. Only too

often the rogues are in direct league with the worst offenders in London.

Whitechapel supplies a large contingent of the Kentish hop-pickers, and

the 'traveller' who is ostensibly in search of a haymaking or hopping job

is, as often as not, spying out the land, and planning profitable

burglaries to be carried out in winter with the aid of his colleagues.

"There is, no doubt, much about the tramp that is picturesque. A

romantic imagination pictures him as a sort of peripatetic philosopher,

with more of Jacques in him than of Autolycus; living in constant

communion with Nature; sleeping in the open air; subsisting on the

scantiest fare; slaking his thirst at the running brook; and only begging

to be allowed to live his own childlike and innocent life, as purposeless

as the butterflies, as happy as the swallows, as destitute of all worldly

ends and aims as are the very violets of the hedge-row. AEsthetic

enthusiasm of this kind is apt to be severely checked by the prosaic

realities of actual existence. The tramp, like the noble savage, is a

relic of uncivilised life with which we can very well afford to dispense.

There is no appreciation of the country about him; no love of Nature for

its own sake. In winter he becomes an inmate of the workhouse, where he

almost always proves himself turbulent and disorderly. As soon as it

becomes warm enough to sleep in a haystack, or under a hedge, or in a

thick clump of furze and bracken, he discharges himself from 'the Union'

and takes to 'the roads.' From town to town he begs or steals his way,

safe in the assurance that should things go amiss the nearest workhouse

must always provide him with gratuitous board and lodging. Work of any

kind, although he vigorously pretends to be in 'want of a job,' is

utterly abhorrent to him. Home county farmers, led by that unerring

instinct which is the unconscious result of long experience, know the

tramp at once, and can immediately distinguish him from the _bona-fide_

'harvester,' in quest of honest employment. The tramp, indeed, is the

sturdy idler of the roads--a cousin-german of the 'beach-comber,' who is

the plague of consuls and aversion of merchant skippers. In almost every

port of any size the harbour is beset by a gang of idle fellows, whose

pretence is that they are anxious to sign articles for a voyage, but who

are, in reality, living from hand to mouth. Captains know only too well

that the true 'beach-comber' is always incompetent, often physically

unfit for work, and constitutionally mutinous. When his other resources

fail, he throws himself upon the nearest consul of the nation to which he

may claim to belong, and a very considerable sum is yearly wasted in

providing such ramblers with free passages to what they please to assert

is the land of their birth. Harbour-masters and port authorities

generally are apt to treat notorious offenders of this kind somewhat

summarily, and our local police and poor-law officers are ill-advised if

they do not follow the good example thus set, and show the tramp as

little mercy as possible. Leniency, indeed, of any kind he simply

regards as weakness. He would be a highwayman if the existing conditions

of society allowed it, and if he had the necessary personal courage. As

it is, he is a blot upon our country life, and an eyesore on our roads.

Vagabondage is not a heritage with him, as it is with the genuine

Gipsies. He has taken to it from choice, and the true-bred Romany will

always regard him with contempt, as a mere migratory gaol bird, who knows

no tongue of the roads beyond the cant or 'kennick' of thieves--a

Whitechapel _argot_, familiarity with which at once tells its own tale.

Fortunately, our existing law is sufficient to keep the nuisance in

check, if only it be resolutely administered. The tramp, however, trades

upon spurious sympathy. There will always be weak-minded folk to pity

the poor man whom the hard-hearted magistrates have sent to gaol for

sleeping under a haystack--forgetting that this interesting offender is,

as a rule, no better than a common thief at large, who will steal

whatever he can lay his hands on, and who makes our lanes and pleasant

country byways unpleasant, if not actually dangerous."

The foregoing article upon Gipsies and tramps brought from a

correspondent in the _Standard_, under date September 12th, the following

letter:--"I have just been reading the article in your paper on the

subject of tramps. If you could stand at my gate for one day, you would

be astonished to see the number of tramps passing through our village,

which is on the high road between two of the principal towns in South

Yorkshire; and the same may be said of any place in England situated on

the main road, or what was formerly the coach road. We seldom meet

tramps in town, except towards evening, when they come in for the casual

ward. They spend their day in the country, passing from one town to

another, and to those who reside near the high road, as I do, they are an

intolerable nuisance. A tramp in a ten mile journey, which occupies him

all day, will frequently make 1s. 6d. or 2s. a day, besides being

supplied with food, and the more miserable and wretched he can make

himself appear, the more sympathy he will get, and if he is lucky enough

to meet a benevolent old lady out for her afternoon drive he will get 6d.

or 1s. from her. She will say 'Poor man,' and then go home thinking how

she has helped 'that poor, wretched man' on his way. Tramps are a class

of people who never have worked, and who never will, except it be in

prison, and, as long as they can get a living for nothing, they will

continue to be, as you say in your article, 'A blot upon the country and

an eyesore on our roads.'

"I always find the quickest way of getting rid of a tramp is to threaten

him with the police, and I am quite sure if every householder would make

a rule never to relieve tramps with money, and only those who are

crippled, with food, the number would soon be decreased. If people have

any old clothes or spare coppers to give away, I am sure they will soon

find in their own town or village many cases more worthy of their charity

than the highway tramp. I do not recommend anybody to find a tramp even

temporary employment, unless they can stand over him and then see the man

safe off the premises, and even then he may come again at night as a

burglar; but I am sure work could be found at 1s. 6d. or 2s. a day by our

corporations or on the highways, where, under proper supervision, these

idle vagabonds would be made to earn an honest living. You will find

that nine out of ten tramps have been in prison and have no character,

and although they may say they 'want work,' they really do not mean it.

Not long ago I caught a great rough fellow trying to get the dinner from

a little girl who was taking it to her father at his work. 'Poor man! he

must have been very hungry,' I fancy I hear the benevolent old lady

saying. Of course, during the last year we have had many men 'on the

road' who are really in search of work, but I always tell them that there

is as much work in one place as another, and unless they really have a

situation in view they should not go tramping from town to town. Many of

them have no characters to produce, and I expect when they find

'tramping' is such a pleasant and easy mode of living they will join the

ranks and become roadsters also."

In _May's Aldershot Advertiser_, September 13th, 1879, the following is a

leading article upon the condition of Gipsies:--"The incoming of

September reminds us that in the hop districts this is the season of

advent of those British nomads--the Gipsies, the only class for whom

there is so little legislation, or with whose actions and habits, lawless

as they are, the agents of the law so seldom interfere. The miners of

the Black Country owe the suppression of juvenile labour and the short

time law to the long exertions of the generous-hearted Richard Oastler.

The brickmaker may no longer debase and ruin, both morally and

physically, his child of the tender age of nine or ten years, by turning

it--boy or girl--into the brick-yard to toil, shoeless and ragged, at

carrying heavy lumps on its head. The canal population--they who are

born and die in the circumscribed hole at the end of a barge, dignified

by the name of 'cabin,' are just now receiving the special attention of

Mr. Smith, of Coalville, and certainly, excepting the section of whom I

am writing, there is not to be found in privileged England a people so

utterly debased and regardless of the characteristics of civilised life.

The Factory Act prevents the employing of boys or girls under a certain

age, and secures for those who are legally employed a sufficient time for

recreation. But who cares for, or thinks about, the wandering Romany?

True, Police-Constable Argus receives authority by which he, _sans

ceremonie_, commands them to 'move on,' should he come across any by the

roadside in his diurnal or nocturnal perambulations. But it often occurs

that the object for which they 'camped' in the spot has been

accomplished. The farmer's hedge has been made to supply them with fuel

for warmth and for culinary purposes; his field has been trespassed upon,

and fodder stolen for their overworked and cruelly-treated quadrupeds;

so, the 'move on' simply means a little inconvenience resulting from

their having to transfer their paraphernalia to another 'camp ground' not

far off. They also enjoy certain immunities which are withheld from

other classes. Excepting that some of them pay for a hawker's licence,

they roam about as they list, untaxed and uncontrolled, though the

earnings of most of them amount to a considerable sum every year; as they

are free from the conventional rule which requires the house-dwelling

population, often at great inconvenience, to 'keep up appearances,' it

often happens that the wearer of the most tattered garments earns the

most money. They can and do live sparingly, and spend lavishly. The

labour which they choose is the most remunerative kind. Ploughing or

stone-breaking is not the employment, which the Gipsy usually seeks! He

takes the cream and leaves the skimmed milk for the cottier, and having

done all there is to do of the kind he chooses, he is off to some other

money-making industry. A Gipsy will make four harvests in one year;

first he goes 'up the country,' as he calls going into Middlesex, for

'peas-hacking.' That over, he goes into Sussex

(Chichester--'wheat-fagging' or tying), and on that being done, returns

toward Hampshire--North Hants--to 'fag' or tie, and that being done he

enters Surrey for hop-picking (previously securing a 'bin' in one of the

gardens). Some idea of his gross earnings may be obtained from the

following fact:--Two able-bodied men, an old woman of about 75 years of

age, and two women, earned on a farm in one harvest, no less than 42

pounds. After that, they went hop-picking, and, in answer to my

question, 'How much will they earn there?' the farmer, who is a

hop-grower, said, 'More than they have here.' These operations were

performed in less than a quarter of the year. In the places through

which they pass to their work they sell what they can, and at night pitch

their tent or draw their van on some common or waste land, buy no corn

for their horses, nor spend any money for coal or wood. If they locate

themselves on the margin of a wood, and make a prolonged sojourn, the

uproar, the screams, the cries of 'murder' heard from their rendezvous

"'Make night hideous.'

All this, and more, they do with impunity. 'It is only the Gipsies

quarrelling.' No inspector of nuisances pays them a visit; the

tax-gatherer knows not their whereabouts; the rate-collector troubles

them not with any 'demand note;' their children are not provided with

proper and necessary education, yet no school attendance officer serves

them with a summons. Their existence is not known officially, saving the

time a census is taken, when, at the _expense of the house-dwellers_, a

registry is made of them. Not a farthing do they contribute to the

government, imperial or local, though many of them are in a position to

do it, and can, without inconvenience, find from 40 to 80 pounds; or 100

pounds for a new-travelling van when they want one. Overcrowding and

numerous indecencies exist in galore among them, yet no representative of

the Board of Health troubles himself about the number of cubic feet of

air per individual there may be in their tent or van. Is this neglect,

indifference, obliviousness, or do the authorities believe that the

impurities and unsanitary exhalements are sufficiently oxidised to

prevent any disease? It is worthy of remark that they are not liable to

the epidemics which afflict others. The loss of a pony from a common

simultaneously with their exodus is a suspicious fact occasionally. They

live in defiance of social, moral, civil, and natural law, a disgrace to

the legislature.--J. W. B."

In the _Hand and Heart_, September 19th of last year, the editor says,

with reference to our roadside arabs:--"Mr. George Smith, of Coalville,

whose efforts to better the condition of the wretched canal population

have met deserved success, draws attention to the state of another

neglected class. Parliament, he says, which has lately been reforming so

many things, would have done well to consider the case of the Gipsies,

'our roadside arabs.' Of the idleness, ignorance, heathenism, and

general misery prevailing among these strange people he gives some

curious instances. One old man, whose acquaintance Mr. Smith made,

calculates that 'there are about 250 families of Gipsies in ten of the

Midland counties, and thinks that a similar proportion will be found in

the rest of the United Kingdom. He has seen as many as ten tents of

Gipsies within a distance of five miles. He thinks there will be an

average of five children in each tent. He has seen as many as ten or

twelve children in some tents, and not many of them able to read or

write. His child of six months old--with his wife ill at the same time

in the tent--sickened, died, and was "laid out" by him, and it was also

buried out of one of those wretched abodes on the roadside at

Barrow-upon-Soar, last January. When the poor thing died he had not

sixpence in his pocket.' An old woman bore similar testimony. 'She said

that she had had sixteen children, fifteen of whom are alive, several of

them being born in a roadside tent. She says that she was married out of

one of these tents; and her brother died and was buried out of a tent at

Packington, near Ashby-de-la-Zouch. This poor woman knows about three

hundred families of Gipsies in eleven of the Midland and Eastern

counties, and has herself, so she says, four lots of Gipsies travelling

in Lincolnshire at the present time. She said she could not read

herself, and thinks that not one Gipsy in twenty can. She has travelled

all her life. Her mother, named Smith, of whom there are not a few, is

the mother of fifteen children, all of whom were born in a tent.' Mr.

Smith's conclusion (which will not be disputed) is that 'to have between

three and four thousand men and women, and eight or ten thousand children

classed in the Census as vagrants and vagabonds, roaming all over the

country, in ignorance and evil training that carries peril with it, is

not a pleasant look-out for the future.' He contends that 'if these poor

children, living in vans and tents and under old carts, are to be allowed

to live in these places, they should be registered in a manner analogous

to the Canal Boats Act of 1877, so that the children may be brought under

the compulsory clauses of the Education Acts, and become Christianised

and civilised as other children.'"

The _Illustrated London News_, October 4th, says:--"Among the papers to

be read at Manchester is one on the condition of the Gipsy children and

roadside 'arabs' in our midst, by Mr. George Smith, of Coalville,

Leicester. Here, indeed, is a gentleman who is certainly neither a

dealer in crotchets nor a rider of hobbies. Mr. Smith has done admirable

service on behalf of the poor children on board our barges and

canal-boats, and the even more pitiable boys and girls in our

brick-fields; and to his philanthropic exertions are mainly due the

recent amendments in the Factory Acts regulating the labour of young

children. He has now taken the case of the juvenile 'Romanies' in hand;

and I wish him well in his benevolent crusade. Mr. Smith has obligingly

sent me a proof of his address, from which I gather that, owing to a

superstitious dislike which the Gipsies entertain towards the Census, and

the successfully cunning attempts on their part to baffle the

enumerators, it is only by conjecture and guesswork that we can form any

idea of the number of Bohemians in this country. The result of Mr.

Smith's diligent inquiries has led him to the assumption that there are

not less than 4,000 Gipsy men and women, and from 15,000 to 20,000 Gipsy

and 'arab'--that is to say, tramp--children roaming about the country

'outside the educational laws and the pale of civilisation.'"

The following leading article, relating to my paper upon "The Condition

of the Gipsy Children," appears in the _Daily News_, October 6th:--"At

the Social Science Congress Mr. George Smith, of Coalville, will

to-morrow open a fresh campaign of philanthropy. The philanthropic

Alexander is seldom in the unhappy condition of his Macedonian original,

and generally has plenty of worlds remaining ready to be conquered.

Brick-yards and canal-boats have not exhausted Mr. Smith's energies, and

the field he has now entered upon is wider and perhaps harder to work

than either of these. Mr. Smith desires to bring the Gipsy children

under the operation of the Education Act. Education and Gipsies seem at

first sight to be words mutually contradictory. Amid the mass of

imaginative fiction, idle speculation, and deliberate forgery that has

been set afloat on the subject of the Gipsies, one thing has been made

tolerably clear, and that is the intense aversion which the pure bred

Gipsy has to any of the restraints of civilised life. Whether those

restraints take the form of orderly and cleanly living in houses of brick

and of stone, or of military service, or of school attendance, is pretty

much a matter of indifference to him. Schools, indeed, may be regarded

from the Gipsy point of view as not merely irksome, but useless

institutions. Our most advanced places of technical education do not

teach fortune-telling, or that interesting branch of the tinker's art

which enables the practitioner in mending one hole in a kettle to make

two. Except for music the Gipsies do not seem to have much aptitude for

the arts; they are more or less indifferent to literature; and business,

except of certain dubious kinds, is a detestable thing to them. Their

vagrant habits, on the other hand, enable them, without much difficulty,

to evade the great commandment which has gone forth, that all the English

world shall be examined.