odious language," said Mr. Roebuck, greatly amused.
"What are you saying?"

"I am telling her to hold her tongue, and go."

"But how on earth does it happen that you speak such a language?"
inquired a lady. "I always thought that the gypsies only talked a kind
of English slang, and this sounds like a foreign tongue."

All this time Britannia, like the Cork Leg, never tired, but kept on the
chase, neck and neck, till we reached a lock, when, with a merry laugh
like a child, she turned on her track and left us.

"Mr. L.'s proficiency in Romany," said Mr. Roebuck, "is well known to me.
I have heard him spoken of as the successor to George Borrow."

"That," I replied, "I do not deserve. There are other gentlemen in
England who are by far my superiors in knowledge of the people."

And I spoke very sincerely. Apropos of Mr. George Borrow, I knew him,
and a grand old fellow he was,--a fresh and hearty giant, holding his six
feet two or three inches as uprightly at eighty as he ever had at
eighteen. I believe that was his age, but may be wrong. Borrow was like
one of the old Norse heroes, whom he so much admired, or an old-fashioned
gypsy bruiser, full of craft and merry tricks. One of these he played on
me, and I bear him no malice for it. The manner of the joke was this: I
had written a book on the English gypsies and their language; but before
I announced it, I wrote a letter to Father George, telling him that I
proposed to print it, and asking his permission to dedicate it to him.
He did not answer the letter, but "worked the tip" promptly enough, for
he immediately announced in the newspapers on the following Monday his
"Word-Book of the Romany Language," "with many pieces in gypsy,
illustrative of the way of speaking and thinking of the English gypsies,
with specimens of their poetry, and an account of various things relating
to gypsy life in England." This was exactly what I had told him that my
book would contain; for I intended originally to publish a vocabulary.
Father George covered the track by not answering my letter; but I
subsequently ascertained that it had been faithfully delivered to him by
a gentleman from whom I obtained the information.

It was like the contest between Hildebrand the elder and his son:--

"A ready trick tried Hildebrand,
That old, gray-bearded man;
For when the younger raised to strike,
Beneath his sword he ran."

And, like the son, I had no ill feeli