mother is a power to be
feared. As a fortune-teller she is a witch, ever at warfare with the
police world; she has a bitter tongue, and is quick to wrath. This was
not the style or fashion of the old gypsy singer; but, as soon as I saw
the _puri babali dye_, I requested that she would shake hand with me, and
by the impression which this created I saw that the Romany of the city
had not lost all the feelings of the road.

I spoke of Waramoff's beautiful song of the "Krasneya Sarafan," which
Sarsha began at once to warble. The characteristic of Russian gypsy-girl
voices is a peculiarly delicate metallic tone,--like that of the two
silver bells of the Tower of Ivan Velikoi when heard from afar,--yet
always marked with fineness and strength. This is sometimes startling in
the wilder effects, but it is always agreeable. These Moscow gypsy girls
have a great name in their art, and it was round the shoulders of one of
them--for aught I know it may have been Sarsha's great-grandmother--that
Catalani threw the cashmere shawl which had been given to her by the Pope
as "to the best singer in the world." "It is not mine by right," said
the generous Italian; "it belongs to the gypsy."

The gypsies were desirous of learning something about the songs of their
kindred in distant lands, and, though no singer, I did my best to please
them, the guitarist easily improvising accompaniments, while the girls
joined in. As all were in a gay mood faults were easily excused, and the
airs were much liked,--one lyric, set by Virginia Gabriel, being even
more admired in Moscow than in St. Petersburg, apropos of which I may
mention that, when I afterward visited the gypsy family in their own
home, the first request from Sarsha was, "_Eto gilyo_, _rya_!" (_That_
song, sir), referring to "Romany," which has been heard at several
concerts in London. And so, after much discussion of the affairs of
Egypt, I took my leave amid a chorus of kind farewells. Then Vassili,
loudly called for, reappeared from some nook with his elegantly frosted
horse, and in a few minutes we were dashing homeward. Cold! It was as
severe as in Western New York or Minnesota, where the thermometer for
many days every winter sinks lower than in St. Petersburg, but where
there are no such incredible precautions taken as in the land of double
windows cemented down, and fur-lined _shubas_. It is remarkable that the
gypsies, although of Oriental origin, are said to surpass