This man was a full Gipsy, but he spoke better English, as well as better Rommany, than his neighbours, and had far more refinement of manner.  And singularly enough, he appeared to be simpler hearted and more unaffected, with less Gipsy trickery, and more of a disposition for honest labour.  His brother and uncle were, indeed, hard at work among the masons in a new building not far off, though they lived like true Gipsies in a tent.  Petulamengro, as the name is commonly given at the present day, was evidently very proud of his Rommany, and talked little else:  but he could not speak it nearly so well nor so fluently as his mother, who was of “the old sort,” and who was, I believe, sincerely delighted that her skill was appreciated by me.  All Gipsies are quite aware that their language is very old and curious, but they very seldom meet with Gorgios who are familiar with the fact, and manifest an interest in it.

While engaged in conversation with this family, Petulamengro asked me if I had ever met in America with Mr —–­, adding, “He is a brother-in-law of mine.”

I confess that I was startled, for I had known the gentleman in question very well for many years.  He is a man of considerable fortune, and nothing in his appearance indicates in the slightest degree any affinity with the Rommany.  He is not the only real or partial Gipsy whom I know among the wealthy and highly cultivated, and it is with pleasure I declare that I have found them all eminently kind-hearted and hospitable.

It may be worth while to state, in this connection, that Gipsy blood intermingled with Anglo-Saxon when educated, generally results in intellectual and physical vigour.  The English Gipsy has greatly changed from the Hindoo in becoming courageous, in fact, his pugnacity and pluck are too frequently carried to a fault.

My morning’s call had brought me into contact with the three types of the Gipsy of the roads.  Of the half-breeds, and especially of those who have only a very slight trace of the dark blood or kalo ratt, there are in Great Britain many thousands.  Of the true stock there are now only a few hundreds.  But all are “Rommany,” and all have among themselves an “understanding” which separates them from the “Gorgios.”

It is difficult to define what this understanding is—­suffice it to say, that it keeps them all in many respects “peculiar,” and gives them a feeling of free-masonry, and of guarding a social secret, long after they leave the roads and become highly reputable members of society.  But they have a secret, and no one can know them who has not penetrated it.

* * * * *

One day I mentioned to my old Rommany, what Mr Borrow has said, that no English Gipsy knows the word for a leaf, or patrin.  He admitted that it was true; but after considering the subject deeply, and dividing the deliberations between his pipe and a little wooden bear on the table—­his regular oracle and friend—­he suddenly burst forth in the following beautiful illustration of philology by theology:—­