nly introduces one family
group. Judged from these two books the reader would conclude that he
knew nothing whatever of the Lees, the Stanleys, and the most noticeable
of all, the Lovells, and yet those who knew him are aware that he was
thrown into contact with most of these. But here, as in everything else,
Borrow's eccentric methods can never be foreseen. The most interesting
of all the gypsies are the Welsh gypsies. The Welsh variety of the
Romany tongue is quite peculiar, and the Romanies of the Principality are
superior to all others in these islands in intelligence and in their
passion for gorgio respectability. Borrow in "Lavengro" takes the reader
to the Welsh border itself, and then turns back, leaving the Welsh Romany
undescribed. And in the only part of "Wild Wales" where gypsy life is
afterwards glanced at, the gypsies introduced are not Welsh, but English.

The two great successes amongst Borrow's Romany characters are
undoubtedly Mrs. Petulengro's mother (old Mrs. Herne) and her grandchild
Leonora, but these are the two wicked characters of the group. It is
impossible to imagine anything better told than the attempt of these two
to poison Lavengro: it is drama of the rarest kind. The terrible
ironical dialogue over the prostrate and semi-conscious Lavengro, between
the child-murderess and the hag-murderess who have poisoned him, is like
nothing else in literature. This scene alone should make "Lavengro"
immortal. In no other race than the Romany would a child of the elf-like
intelligence and unconscious wickedness of Leonora be possible; but also
it must be said that in no other race than the Romany would be possible a
child like her who is made the subject of my sonnet, "A Gypsy Child's
Christmas," printed in the "Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society"--a sonnet
which renders in verse a real incident recorded by my friend before
alluded to:--

Dear Sinfi rose and danced along "The Dells,"
Drawn by the Christmas chimes, and soon she sate
Where, 'neath the snow around the churchyard gate,
The ploughmen slept in bramble-banded cells:
The gorgios passed, half fearing gipsy spells,
While Sinfi, gazing, seemed to meditate;
She laughed for joy, then wept disconsolate:
"De poor dead gorgios cannot hear de bells."

Within the church the clouds of gorgio-breath
Arose, a steam of lazy praise and prayer,
To Him who weaves the loving Christmas-st