At another "Bald-faced Hind," above Fairlop, he used to see the Gypsies, for it was their trysting place. He went in search of them in Wandsworth and Battersea and whereever they were to be found, from Notting Hill to Epsom Downs, though they were corrupted by loss of liberty and, in his opinion, were destined soon to disappear, "merged in the dregs of the English population." With them, as with others, his vocabulary was "rich in picturesque words of the high road and dingle." Once he consented to join a friend in trying Matthew Arnold's "Scholar Gypsy" on Gypsy taste. The Gypsy girl was pleased with the seventeenth-century story on which the poem is based, and with some "lovely bits of description," but she was in the main at first bewildered, and at last unsympathetic and ran away. The beauty of the girl was too much for Borrow's power of expression--it was "really quite--quite--." The girl's companion, a young woman with a child, was smoking a pipe, and Borrow took it out of her mouth and asked her not to smoke till he came again, because the child was sickly and his friend put it down to the tobacco. "It ought to be a criminal offence for a woman to smoke at all," said Borrow; "fancy kissing a woman's mouth that smelt of stale tobacco--pheugh!" {315} Whether this proves Borrow's susceptibility to female charm I cannot say, but it seems to me rather to prove a sort of connoisseurship, which is not the same thing. Just after he was seventy, in 1874, the year of Jasper Petulengro's death, Borrow left London for Oulton. He was no longer the walker and winter bather of a year or two before, but was frequently at lodgings in Norwich, and seen and noted as he walked in the streets or sat in the "Norfolk." At Oulton he was much alone and was to be heard "by startled rowers on the lake" chanting verses after his fashion. His remarkable appearance, his solitariness in the neglected house and tangled garden, his conversation with Gypsies whom he allowed to camp on his land, created something of a legend. Children called after him "Gypsy!" or "Witch!" {316} Towards the end he was joined at Oulton by his stepdaughter and her husband, Dr. MacOubrey. In 1879 he was too feeble to walk a few hundred yards, and furious with a man who asked his age. In 1880 he made his will. On July 26, 1881, when he was left entirely alone for the day, he died, after having expected death for some time. He was taken to West Brompton to be buried in that cemetery beside his wife. CONCLUSION