"Yours very respectfully,
"WELSHANENGAY BORY BOSHAHENGBO.

[Hedge Fiddler.]

"I beg to acquaint you that I am the oldest living Welsh Harper in
the world at the present time. Mr. Thomas G---, Welsh Harper to the
Prince of Wales, is next to me."

It would be perhaps a difficult task to find a score of Gipsies out of
the 15,000 to 20,000 there are in this country who can write as well as
the foregoing letter.

The following may be considered a fair specimen of the high class or
"Gentleman Gipsy," so much admired by those who have got the Gipsy spell
round their necks, the Gipsy spectacles before their eyes, the Gipsy
charm in their pocket, and who can see nothing but what is lively,
charming, fascinating, and delightful in the Gipsy, from the crown of his
head to the sole of his foot. To those of my friends I present them with
an account of Ryley Bosvil as a man after their own heart, at the same
time I would call their attention to his ending, as related by Borrow.

Ryley Bosvil was a native of Yorkshire, a county where, as the Gipsies
say, "There's a deadly sight of Bosvils." He was above the middle
height, exceedingly strong and active, and one of the best riders in
Yorkshire, which is saying a great deal. He was thoroughly versed in all
the arts of the old race; he had two wives, never went to church, and
considered that when a man died he was cast into the earth and there was
an end of him. He frequently used to say that if any of his people
became Gorgios he would kill them. He had a sister of the name of Clara,
a nice, delicate girl, about fourteen years younger than himself, who
travelled about with an aunt; this girl was noticed by a respectable
Christian family, who, taking great interest in her, persuaded her to
come and live with them. She was instructed by them, in the rudiments of
the Christian religion, appeared delighted with her new friends, and
promised never to leave them. After the lapse of about six weeks there
was a knock at the door, and a dark man stood before it, who said he
wanted Clara. Clara went out trembling, had some discourse with the man
in an unknown tongue, and shortly returned in tears, and said that she
must go. "What for?" said her friends. "Did you not promise to stay
with us?" "I did so," said the girl, weeping more bitterly; "but that
man is