ne to kindle love in
cold ones, but if necessity arises, they can use mighty incantations,
which force the devil to lend them his aid. Last year the following
story was related to me by a Spanish lady. She was walking one day along
the _Calle d'Alcala_, feeling very sad and anxious. A gipsy woman who
was squatting on the pavement called out to her, "My pretty lady, your
lover has played you false!" (It was quite true.) "Shall I get him
back for you?" My readers will imagine with what joy the proposal was
accepted, and how complete was the confidence inspired by a person who
could thus guess the inmost secrets of the heart. As it would have been
impossible to proceed to perform the operations of magic in the most
crowded street in Madrid, a meeting was arranged for the next day.
"Nothing will be easier than to bring back the faithless one to your
feet!" said the gitana. "Do you happen to have a handkerchief, a scarf,
or a mantilla, that he gave you?" A silken scarf was handed her. "Now
sew a piastre into one corner of the scarf with crimson silk--sew half
a piastre into another corner--sew a peseta here--and a two-real piece
there; then, in the middle you must sew a gold coin--a doubloon would be
best." The doubloon and all the other coins were duly sewn in. "Now give
me the scarf, and I'll take it to the Campo Santo when midnight strikes.
You come along with me, if you want to see a fine piece of witchcraft.
I promise you shall see the man you love to-morrow!" The gipsy departed
alone for the Campo Santo, since my Spanish friend was too much afraid
of witchcraft to go there with her. I leave my readers to guess whether
my poor forsaken lady ever saw her lover, or her scarf, again.

In spite of their poverty and the sort of aversion they inspire, the
gipsies are treated with a certain amount of consideration by the more
ignorant folk, and they are very proud of it. They feel themselves to be
a superior race as regards intelligence, and they heartily despise the
people whose hospitality they enjoy. "These Gentiles are so stupid,"
said one of the Vosges gipsies to me, "that there is no credit in taking
them in. The other day a peasant woman called out to me in the street.
I went into her house. Her stove smoked and she asked me to give her a
charm to cure it. First of all I made her give me a good bit of bacon,
and then I began to mumble a few words in _Romany_. 'You're a fool,' I
said, 'you were born a fool, and you'll die