ing the merchants to our terms.

While we were haggling about an eighteen-penny clasp knife, the door of
the tap-room opened, and there entered an old man, clothed in rags,
with a wallet at his back and a long piked stick in his hand; who,
uncovering his head, knelt down upon the floor, and began to pray and
cross himself with surprising volubility. My young companion gave him a
piece of money, which checked his devotions only for a moment; for he
merely looked at it, nodded his head again, and resumed his muttering
with all possible eagerness. But at the termination of, perhaps, five
minutes, his prayers seemed to have been told out,--for he rose and
with a loud voice pronounced a benediction on the house and all that
were in it. This done, he turned about, and walked away.

The whole affair was to us so novel in its character, that the
questions which we put to the landlord were put eagerly, but our
eagerness proved to be uncalled for. "Story! God bless you! I have none
to tell, Sir." What we mistook for a striking incident, proved to be an
everyday occurrence in Bohemia, and our imaginary palmer or devotee but
a common beggar. And now, having touched on the subject, we proceeded
to sound the depth of our host's information on the subject of gypsies.
Where did they horde? how were we most likely to fall in with one of
their camps, and what sort of treatment might we expect to receive at
their hands? It was with some difficulty that we could make the honest
man comprehend the object which we had in view; and when he did catch
our meaning, his reply was brief and pithy. "The people you speak of we
call Torpindas. They are an idle worthless set of vagabonds. They have
no camps in Bohemia of which I ever heard,--neither is Bohemia their
home. They come out of Hungary, and beg their way far and near in the
summer months; going about in pairs or by threes, and sleeping at
nights under sheds, or on the floors of such tap-rooms as are opened to
them. I advise you to have as little to say to them as possible.
Avowedly, they are mere beggars, but their hands are always prompt for
picking and stealing, and they are said not to be over scrupulous in
using their knives." Here, then, if our informant spoke correctly, was
an end to one of the dreams which had prompted our incursion into
Bohemia. But though we gave him full credit for speaking what he
believed to be the truth, we took the liberty of questioning the
accuracy of his i