ainst them.
In summer-time their lot is by no means to be envied; in winter their
state is deplorable indeed.

"We entered, Mr. George Smith and I, and were received as friends. Had I
gone by myself, I question whether my reception would have been a
pleasant one. As Gipsies pay no taxes, they can keep any number of dogs,
and these dogs have a way of sniffing and snarling, anything but
agreeable to an unbidden guest. The poor people complained to me no one
ever came to see them. I should be surprised if any one did; but Mr.
George Smith, of Coalville, is no common man, and having secured fair
play for the poor children of the brick-fields--he himself was brought up
in a brick-yard--and for the poor, and sadly-neglected, inmates of the
canal-boats, he has now turned his attention to the Gipsies. His idea
is--and it is a good one--that an Act of Parliament should be passed for
their benefit--something similar to that he has been the means of
carrying for the canal and brick-field children. In a paper read before
the Social Science Congress at Manchester, Mr. Smith argued that all
tents, shows, caravans, auctioneer vans, and like places used as
dwellings should be registered and numbered, and under proper sanitary
arrangements, with sanitary inspectors and School Board officers, in
every town and village. Thus in every district the children would have
their names and attendance registered in a book, which they could take
with them from place to place, and when endorsed by the schoolmaster, it
would show that the children were attending school. In carrying out this
idea, it is a pity that Mr. Smith should have to bear all the burden. As
it is, he has suffered greatly in his pocket by his philanthropic effort.
. . .

"It is no joke going into a Gipsy yard, and it is still less so when you
go down on your hands and knees, and crawl into the Gipsy's wigwam; but
the worst of it is, when you have done so, there is little to see after
all. In the middle, on a few bricks, is a stove or fireplace of some
kind. On the ground is a floor of wood-chips, or straw, or shavings, and
on this squat some two or three big, burly men, who make linen-pegs and
skewers, and mend chairs and various articles, the tribe, as they wander
along, seek to sell. The women are away, for it is they who bring the
grist to the mill, as they tell fortunes, or sell their wares, or follow
their doubtful trade; but the place swarms with children; and