is a penny. You are a very poor person, and I pity
you so much that I give you this penny for your poverty. But there is a
pocketful where this came from, and you shall have the lot if you'll
_rakker_,"--that is, talk gypsy.

And at that touch of the Ithuriel spear the old toad flashed up into the
Romany devil, as with gleaming eyes and a witch-like grin she cried in a
mixture of gypsy and tinker languages,--

"Gents, I'll have tute jin when you tharis mandy you rakker a reg'lar fly
old bewer." Which means, "Gentlemen, I'll have you know, when you talk
to me, you talk to a reg'lar shrewd old female thief."

The face of the elder professor was a study of astonishment for Lavater.
His fingers relaxed their grasp of the shilling, his hand was drawn from
his pocket, and his glance, like Bill Nye's, remarked: "_Can_ this be?"
He tells the story to this day, and always adds, "I _never_ was so
astonished in my life." But the venerable washerwoman was also changed,
and, the mask once thrown aside, she became as festive as a witch on the
Brocken. Truly, it is a great comfort to cease playing a part,
particularly a pious one, and be at home and at ease among your like; and
better still if they be swells. This was the delight of Anderson's ugly
duck when it got among the swans, "and, blest sensation, felt genteel."
And to show her gratitude, the sorceress, who really seemed to have grown
several shades darker, insisted on telling our fortunes. I think it was
to give vent to her feelings in defiance of the law that she did this;
certain it was that just then, under the circumstances, it was the only
way available in which the law could be broken. And as it was, indeed,
by heath and hill that the priestess of the hidden spell bade the Palmer
from over the sea hold out his palm. And she began in the usual
sing-song tone, mocking the style of gypsy fortune-tellers, and
satirizing herself. And thus she spoke,--

"You're born under a lucky star, my good gentleman, and you're a married
man; but there's a black-eyed young lady that's in love with you."

"Oh, mother of all the thieves!" I cried, "you've put the _dukkerin_ on
the wrong man. I'm the one that the dark girls go after."

"Yes, my good gentleman. She's in love with you both."

"And now tell my fortune!" I exclaimed, and with a grim expression,
casting up my palm, I said,--

"_Pen mengy if mandy'll be bitchade padel for chorin a gry_, _or nasherdo
for merin a