'Good-bye, tall brother,' said the girl as she departed, singing-- "The Rommany chi," &c. 'There's something about that girl that I don't understand,' said I to myself--'something mysterious. However, it is nothing to me; she knows not who I am; and if she did, what then?'" Lavengro, however, was doomed to become the victim of misplaced confidence. The young lady in question was the grand-daughter of Mrs Herne "of the hairy ones," who, as the reader will recollect, abandoned the society of her kin rather than associate with the gorgio, as, we presume, we ought to call Mr Borrow. This old woman, who was resolved to have her revenge should any opportunity occur, was encamped somewhere in the neighbourhood; and in the dusk of the evening Lavengro beheld "a face wild and strange, half-covered with grey hair," glaring at him through a gap in the bushes. It disappeared, and Lavengro went to bed. A day or two afterwards he received a second visit from the gipsy girl, who presented him with a species of bun, prepared, as she said, by her "grandbebee," for the express consumption of the "harko mescro" who had been so liberal of the "kekaubi." His evil dukkeripen induced the author to eat, and, as the reader must have already anticipated, the cake proves to have been poisoned. Lavengro, in great agony, crawls into his tent, and has just sunk into a kind of heavy swoon, when he is aroused by a violent thump upon the canvass; and, opening his eyes, beholds Mrs Herne and the girl standing without. They have come to gloat over his dying pangs. It has been our fortune to peruse several of the romances of M. Eugene Sue, and of his followers, as also divers of those interesting and improving fictions which issue, in a serial form, from Holywell Street; but we are not sure that we can recall to our memory any passage culled from these various sources, which is more unnatural, distorted, and purely disgusting, than the conversation between the two females. We give a very small portion of it--for it extends to ten or twelve pages--and what we do quote is, perhaps, the most natural of the whole:-- "'Halloo, sir! are you sleeping? you have taken drows. The gentleman makes no answer. God give me patience!' 'And what if he doesn't, bebee; isn't he poisoned like a hog? Gentleman! indeed; why call him gentleman? if he ever was one he's broke, and is now a tinker--a worker of blue metal!' 'That's his way, child; to-day a tinker, to-morrow something else: and as for being drabbed, I don't know what to say about it.' 'Not drabbed! what do you mean, bebee? But look there, bebee--ha, ha--look at the gentleman's motions.'