gments I
never saw,--and holding them all up, and crowding closely around, like
hungry poultry with uplifted bills, they began to clamor for _tuvalo_, or
tobacco. They were connoisseurs, too, and the elder boy, as he secured
his share, smelled it with intense satisfaction, and said, "That's _rye's
tuvalo_;" that is, "gentleman's tobacco," or best quality.

One evening, as the shadows were darkening the day, I met a little gypsy
boy, dragging along, with incredible labor, a sack full of wood, which
one needed not go far afield to surmise was neither purchased nor begged.
The alarmed and guilty or despairing look which he cast at me was very
touching. Perhaps he thought I was the gentleman upon whose property he
had "found" the wood; or else a magistrate. How he stared when I spoke
to him in Romany, and offered to help him carry it! As we bore it along
I suggested that we had better be careful and avoid the police, which
remark established perfect confidence between us. But as we came to the
tent, what was the amazement of the boy's mother to see him returning
with a gentleman helping him to carry his load! And to hear me say in
Romany, and in a cheerful tone, "Mother, here is some wood we've been
stealing for you."

Gypsies have strong nerves and much cheek, but this was beyond her
endowment; she was appalled at the unearthly strangeness of the whole
proceeding, and when she spoke there was a skeleton rattle in her words
and a quaver of startled ghastliness in her laugh. She had been alarmed
for her boy, and when I appeared she thought I was a swell bringing him
in under arrest; but when I announced myself in Romany as an accomplice,
emotion stifled thought. And I lingered not, and spoke no more, but
walked away into the woods and the darkness. However, the legend went
forth on the roads, even unto Kingston, and was told among the rollicking
Romanys of 'Appy Ampton; for there are always a merry, loafing lot of
them about that festive spot, looking out for excursionists through the
months when the gorse blooms, and kissing is in season--which is always.
And he who seeks them on Sunday may find them camped in Green Lane.

When I wished for a long ramble on the hedge-lined roads--the sweet roads
of old England--and by the green fields, I was wont to take a day's walk
to Netley Abbey. Then I could pause, as I went, before many a quiet,
sheltered spot, adorned with arbors and green alleys, and protected by
trees a