“I see,” said I; “and at your merry meetings you sing songs upon the compulsatory deeds of your people, alias, their villainous actions; and, after all, what would the stirring poetry of any nation be, but for its compulsatory deeds?  Look at the poetry of Scotland, the heroic part, founded almost entirely on the villainous deeds of the Scotch nation; cow-stealing, for example, which is very little better than drabbing baulor; whilst the softer part is mostly about the slips of its females among the broom, so that no upholder of Scotch poetry could censure Ursula’s song as indelicate, even if he understood it.  What do you think, Jasper?”

“I think, brother, as I before said, that occasionally you utter a word of common sense; you were talking of the Scotch, brother; what do you think of a Scotchman finding fault with Romany!”

“A Scotchman finding fault with Romany, Jasper!  Oh dear, but you joke, the thing could never be.”

“Yes, and at Piramus’s fiddle; what do you think of a Scotchman turning up his nose at Piramus’s fiddle?”

“A Scotchman turning up his nose at Piramus’s fiddle! nonsense, Jasper.”

“Do you know what I most dislike, brother?”

“I do not, unless it be the constable, Jasper.”

“It is not the constable; it’s a beggar on horseback, brother.”

“What do you mean by a beggar on horseback?”

“Why, a scamp, brother, raised above his proper place, who takes every opportunity of giving himself fine airs.  About a week ago, my people and myself camped on a green by a plantation in the neighbourhood of a great house.  In the evening we were making merry, the girls were dancing, while Piramus was playing on the fiddle a tune of his own composing, to which he has given his own name, Piramus of Rome, and which is much celebrated amongst our people, and from which I have been told that one of the grand gorgio composers, who once heard it, has taken several hints.  So, as we were making merry, a great many grand people, lords and ladies, I believe, came from the great house, and looked on, as the girls danced to the tune of Piramus of Rome, and seemed much pleased; and when the girls had left off dancing, and Piramus playing, the ladies wanted to have their fortunes told; so I bade Mikailia Chikno, who can tell a fortune when she pleases better than any one else, tell them a fortune, and she, being in a good mind, told them a fortune which pleased them very much.  So, after they had heard their fortunes, one of them asked if any of our women could sing; and I told them several could, more particularly Leviathan—­you know Leviathan, she is not here now, but some miles distant, she is our best singer, Ursula coming next.  So the lady said she should like to hear Leviathan sing, whereupon Leviathan sang the Gudlo pesham, and Piramus played the tune of the same name, which as you know, means the honeycomb, the song and the tune being well entitled to the name, being wonderfully