hould not a Gypsy possess a knowledge of languages?" said I.

"Because the Gypsy race is perfectly illiterate," said the man in black;
"they are possessed, it is true, of a knavish acuteness; and are
particularly noted for giving subtle and evasive answers--and in your
answers, I confess, you remind me of them; but that one of the race
should acquire a learned language like the Armenian, and have a general
knowledge of literature, is a thing _che io non credo afatto_."

"What do you take me for?" said I.

"Why," said the man in black, "I should consider you to be a philologist,
who, for some purpose, has taken up a Gypsy life; but I confess to you
that your way of answering questions is far too acute for a philologist."

"And why should not a philologist be able to answer questions acutely?"
said I.

"Because the philological race is the most stupid under Heaven," said the
man in black; "they are possessed, it is true, of a certain faculty for
picking up words, and a memory for retaining them; but that any one of
the sect should be able to give a rational answer, to say nothing of an
acute one, on any subject--even though the subject were philology--is a
thing of which I have no idea."

"But you found me giving a lesson in Armenian to this handmaid?"

"I believe I did," said the man in black.

"And you heard me give what you are disposed to call acute answers to the
questions you asked me?"

"I believe I did," said the man in black.

"And would any one but a philologist think of giving a lesson in Armenian
to a handmaid in a dingle?"

"I should think not," said the man in black.

"Well, then, don't you see that it is possible for a philologist to give
not only a rational, but an acute answer?"

"I really don't know," said the man in black.

"What's the matter with you?" said I.

"Merely puzzled," said the man in black.

"Puzzled?"

"Yes."

"Really puzzled?"

"Yes."

"Remain so."

"Well," said the man in black, rising, "puzzled or not, I will no longer
tresspass upon your and this young lady's retirement; only allow me,
before I go, to apologise for my intrusion."

"No apology is necessary," said I; "will you please to take anything
before you go? I think this young lady, at my request, would contrive to
make you a cup of tea."

"Tea!" said the man in black--"he! he! I don't drink tea; I don't like
it--if, indeed, you had," and here he stopped.

"There's nothing like gin and water, is th