One day I fell in by chance, on a lonely part of the old public road, on the hills within half a mile of the village of North Queensferry, with a woman of about twenty-seven years of age, and the mother, as she said, of seven children. She had light hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. The youngest of her children appeared to be about nine months old, and the eldest about ten years. The mother was dressed in a brown cloak, and the group had altogether a very squalid appearance. In the most lamentable tone of voice, she informed me that her husband had set off with another woman, and left her and her seven children to starve; and that he had been lately employed at a paper-mill in Mid-Lothian. She sometimes appeared almost to choke with grief, but, nevertheless, I observed no tears in her eyes. She often repeated, in a sort of hypocritical and canting manner, "The Lord has been very kind to me, and will still protect me and my helpless babes. Last night we all slept in the open fields, and gathered peas and beans from the stubble for our suppers." She certainly seemed to be in very indigent circumstances; but that her husband had abandoned her, I did not credit. However, I gave her a few half-pence, for which she thanked me very civilly. From her extravagant behaviour, and a peculiar wildness in her looks, it occurred to me that she belonged to the lowest caste of Gipsies, although her appearance did not indicate it; that her grief was, for the most part, feigned, and that the story of her husband having abandoned her was got up merely to excite pity, for the purpose of procuring a little money for the subsistence of her band. I now put a number of questions to her, relative to many individuals whom I knew were Gipsies of a superior class, taking care not to call them by that name, in case of alarming her. I spoke to her as if I had been quite intimate with all the persons I was enquiring about. She gave me satisfactory answers to almost every question, and seemed well acquainted with every individual I named. She now appeared quite calm and collected, and answered me very gravely. But she said that some of the men I mentioned were rogues, and that their wives played many clever tricks. On mentioning the tricks of the wives, I noticed a smile come over her countenance. I observed to her that they were not faultless, but that they were often blamed for crimes of which they were not guilty. Upon perceiving that I took their part, which I did on purpose, to hear what she would say, she gradually changed her mind, and came over to my opinion. She said that they were exceedingly good-hearted people, and that some of them had frequently paid a night's lodging for herself and family. I now ventured to put a question to her, half in Gipsy and half in English. After a short pause and hesitation, she signified that she understood what I said. I then asked one or two questions in Gipsy words only. A Gipsy, with crockery-ware in a basket,