her day to the Romany
Rye, after telling him many things connected with the decadence of
gypsyism, "there is one Gorgiko Brown, who, with a face as black as a
teakettle, wishes to be mistaken for a Christian tradesman; he goes into
the parlour of a third-rate inn of an evening, calls for rum and water,
and attempts to enter into conversation with the company about politics
and business; the company flout him or give him the cold shoulder, or
perhaps complain to the landlord, who comes and asks him what business he
has in the parlour, telling him if he wants to drink to go into the tap-
room, and perhaps collars him and kicks him out, provided he refuses to
move." With respect to the Quakers, it makes the young people, like the
young Jews, crazy after gentility diversions, worship, marriages, or
connections, and makes old Pease do what it makes Gorgiko Brown do,
thrust himself into society which could well dispense with him, and out
of which he is not kicked, because unlike the gypsy he is not poor. The
writer would say much more on these points, but want of room prevents
him; he must therefore request the reader to have patience until he can
lay before the world a pamphlet, which he has been long meditating, to be
entitled "Remarks on the strikingly similar Effects which a Love for
Gentility has produced, and is producing, amongst Jews, Gypsies, and
Quakers."

The Priest in the book has much to say on the subject of this gentility
nonsense; no person can possibly despise it more thoroughly than that
very remarkable individual seems to do, yet he hails its prevalence with
pleasure, knowing the benefits which will result from it to the church of
which he is the sneering slave. "The English are mad after gentility,"
says he; "well, all the better for us; their religion for a long time
past has been a plain and simple one, and consequently by no means
genteel; they'll quit it for ours, which is the perfection of what they
admire; with which Templars, Hospitalers, mitred abbots, Gothic abbeys,
long-drawn aisles, golden censers, incense, et cetera, are connected;
nothing, or next to nothing, of Christ, it is true, but weighed in the
balance against gentility, where will Christianity be? why, kicking
against the beam--ho! ho!" And in connection with the gentility
nonsense, he expatiates largely, and with much contempt, on a species of
literature by which the interests of his church in England have been very
much advanced--