sies and learned their language. She regarded
him further, as the cause of differences between herself and her sons-in-
law--as an apple of discord in the Romany camp. She employed her
grandchild, Leonora, to open relations in a friendly way with Lavengro,
and then to persuade him to eat of a "drabbed" of poisoned cake. Lavengro
was grievously sick, but was saved in the nick of time by the appearance
upon the scene of a Welsh preacher, Peter Williams, and his wife--two
good souls who wandered over all Wales and the greater part of England,
comforting the hearts of the people with their doctrine, and doing all
the good they could. They never slept beneath a roof, unless the weather
was very severe. The preacher had a heavy burden upon his mind, to wit,
"the sin against the Holy Ghost," committed when he was but a lad.
Lavengro journeys for several days with the preacher and his wife,
assuring the former that in common with most other boys he himself, when
of tender years, had committed twenty such sins and felt no uneasiness
about them. The young man's conversation had the effect of greatly
lightening the despair of the old preacher. The latter begged the word-
master to accompany him into Wales. On the border, however, Lavengro
encountered a gypsy pal of his youthful days, Jasper Petulengro, and
turned back with him. Mr. Petulengro informs him of the end of his old
enemy, Mrs. Herne. Baffled in her designs against the stranger, the old
woman had hanged herself.

"You observe, brother," said Petulengro, springing from his horse, "there
is a point at present between us. There can be no doubt that you are the
cause of Mrs. Herne's death--innocently, you will say, but still the
cause. Now I shouldn't like it to be known that I went up and down the
country with a pal who was the cause of my mother-in-law's death: that is
to say, unless he gave me satisfaction." So they fell to with their
naked fists on a broad strip of grass in the shade under some lofty
trees. In half an hour's time Lavengro's face was covered with blood,
whereupon Mr. Petulengro exclaimed, "Put your hands down, brother: I'm
satisfied; blood has been shed, which is all that can be expected for an
old woman who carried so much brimstone about with her as Mrs. Herne."]

So we resumed our route, Mr. Petulengro sitting sideways on his horse,
and I driving my little pony-cart; and when we had proceeded about three
miles, we came to a small public-h