ied fern sat evidently the central figure of the group, a young,
sparkling-eyed brunette, more than ordinarily marked by the Hindu
peculiarities of head and feature, and attended by a savage-looking
fellow of about twenty, dark as a mulatto, and with a profusion of long
flexible hair, black as jet, hanging down to his eyes, and clustering
about his cheeks and neck. These were, I ascertained, the bride and
bridegroom. The bride was engaged in sewing a cap--the bridegroom in
watching the progress of the work. I observed that the party, who were
less communicative than usual, seemed to regard me in the light of an
intruder. An elderly tinker, the father of the bride, grey as a leafless
thorn in winter, but still stalwart and strong, sat admiring a bit of
spelter of about a pound weight. It was gold, he said, or, as he
pronounced the word, "guild," which had been found in an old cairn, and
was of immense value, "for it was peer guild and that was the best o'
guild;" but if I pleased, he would sell it to me, a very great bargain.
I was engaged with some difficulty in declining the offer, when we were
interrupted by the sounds of the bagpipe. Giant Grimbo and Billy
Breeches had succeeded in regaining their feet, and were seen staggering
towards the cave. "Where's the whisky, Billy!" inquired the proprietor
of the gold, addressing himself to the man of the small clothes.
"Whisky!" said Billy, "ask Grimbo." "Where's the whisky, Grimbo?"
reiterated the tinker. "Whisky!" replied Grimbo, "Whisky!" and yet
again, after a pause and a hiccup, "Whisky!" "Ye confounded blacks!"
said the tinker, springing to his feet with an agility wonderful for an
age so advanced as his, "Have you drunk it all? But take that, Grimbo,"
he added, planting a blow full on the side of the giant's head, which
prostrated his vast length along the floor of the cave. "And take that,
Billy," he iterated, dealing such another blow to the shorter man, which
sent him right athwart his prostrate comrade. And then, turning to me,
he remarked with perfect coolness, "That, master, I call smart hitting."
"Honest lad," whispered one of the women immediately after, "it will be
a _reugh_ time wi' us here the nicht: you had just better be stepping
your ways." I had already begun to think so without prompting; and so,
taking my leave of the gipsies, I failed being, as I had proposed, one
of the witnesses of the wedding.

There is a sort of grotesque humour in scenes of the k