In English:  “Yes.  When Gipsy men or women die, their friends don’t care to hear their names again—­it makes them too sad, so they are changed to other names.  All don’t do it—­no—­but half of them do so still.  My boy’s name was Horfer or Horferus (Orpheus), but the children called him Wacker.  Well, one day at the great fair of the races, my wife saw a large doll in some window of a shop, and said, ’That looks just like our Wacker!’ So we called him Wackerdoll, but after my wife died I called him Wacker again, because Wacker_doll_ put me in mind of my poor wife.”

When further interrogated on the same subject, he said: 

“A’ter my juva mullered, if I dicked a waver rakli with lakis’nav, an’ mandy was a rakkerin laki, mandy’d pen ajaw a waver geeri’s nav, an rakker her by a waver nav:—­dovo’s to pen I’d lel some bongonav sar’s Polly or Sukey.  An’ it was the sar covva with my dades nav—­if I dicked a mush with a nav that simmed leskers, mandy’d rakker him by a waver nav.  For ’twould kair any mush wafro to shoon the navyas of the mullas a’t ’were cammoben to him.”

Or in English, “After my wife died, if I saw another girl with her name, and I was talking to her, I’d speak another woman’s name, and call her by another name; that’s to say, I’d take some nick-name, such as Polly or Sukey.  And it was the same thing with my father’s name—­if I saw a man with a name that was the same as his (literally, ’that samed his’), I’d call him by another name.  For ’twould make any man grieve (lit. ‘bad’) to hear the names of the dead that were dear to him.”

I suppose that there are very few persons, not of Gipsy blood, in England, to whom the information will not be new, that there are to be found everywhere among us, people who mourn for their lost friends in this strange and touching manner.

Another form of respect for the departed among Gipsies, is shown by their frequently burying some object of value with the corpse, as is, however, done by most wild races.  On questioning the same Gipsy last alluded to, he spoke as follows on this subject, I taking down his words:—­

“When Job mullered and was chivved adree the puv, there was a nevvi kushto-dickin dui chakkas pakkered adree the mullo mokto.  Dighton penned a mandy the waver divvus, that trin thousand bars was gavvered posh yeck o’ the Chilcotts.  An I’ve shooned o’ some Stanleys were buried with sonnakai wongashees apre langis wastos. ’Do sar the Rommany chals kair adovo?’ Kek.  Some chivs covvas pash the mullos adree the puv, and boot adusta don’t.”

In English:  “When Job died and was buried, there was a new beautiful pair of shoes put in the coffin (lit. corpse-box).  Dighton told me the other day, that three thousand pounds were hidden with one of the Chilcotts.  And I have heard of some Stanleys who were buried with gold rings on their fingers. ‘Do all the Gipsies do that?’ No! some put things with the dead in the earth, and many do not.”