his
shoulders, replied, 'Very little, I dare say, sir; this ain't the first
time your honour has done a thing of this kind.' 'Nor will it be the
first time that I shall have paid for it,' said the jockey. 'Well, I
shall have never paid for a certain item in the bill with more pleasure
than I shall pay for it now. Come, William, draw the cork, and let us
taste the pink champagne.'

The waiter drew the cork, and filled the glasses with a pinky liquor,
which bubbled, hissed, and foamed. 'How do you like it?' said the
jockey, after I had imitated the example of my companions by despatching
my portion at a draught.

'It is wonderful wine,' said I; 'I have never tasted champagne before,
though I have frequently heard it praised; it more than answers my
expectations; but, I confess, I should not wish to be obliged to drink it
every day.'

'Nor I,' said the jockey, 'for everyday drinking give me a glass of old
port, or--'

'Of hard old ale,' I interposed, 'which, according to my mind, is better
than all the wine in the world.'

'Well said, Romany Rye,' said the jockey. 'Just my own opinion; now,
William, make yourself scarce.'

The waiter withdrew, and I said to the jockey, 'How did you become
acquainted with the Romany chals?'

'I first became acquainted with them,' said the jockey, 'when I lived
with old Fulcher the basket-maker, who took me up when I was adrift upon
the world; I do not mean the present Fulcher, who is likewise called old
Fulcher, but his father, who has been dead this many a year; while living
with him in the caravan, I frequently met them in the green lanes, and of
latter years I have had occasional dealings with them in the horse line.'

'And the gypsies have mentioned me to you?' said I.

'Frequently,' said the jockey, 'and not only those of these parts; why,
there's scarcely a part of England in which I have not heard the name of
the Romany Rye mentioned by these people. The power you have over them
is wonderful; that is, I should have thought it wonderful, had they not
more than once told me the cause.'

'And what is the cause?' said I, 'for I am sure I do not know.'

'The cause is this,' said the jockey: 'they never heard a bad word
proceed from your mouth, and never knew you do a bad thing.'

'They are a singular people,' said I.

'And what a singular language they have got,' said the jockey.

'Do you know it?' said I.

'Only a few words,' said the jockey, 'they were always c