"The result of my observations was a firm belief that the Spanish Gitanos are the most vile, degraded and wretched people upon the earth. The great wickedness of these outcasts may, perhaps, be attributed to their having abandoned their wandering life and become inmates of the towns, where, to the original bad traits of their character, they have superadded the evil and vicious habits of the rabble. . . . They listened with admiration, but alas, not of the truths, the eternal truths I was telling them, but at finding that their broken jargon could be written and read; the only words of assent to the heavenly doctrine which I ever obtained, and which were rather of the negative kind, were the following, from a woman--'Brother! you tell us strange things, though perhaps you do not lie; a month since I would sooner have believed these tales than that I should this day have seen one who could write Rommany.' . . ." He preserves the clergyman, but deepens the Gypsy stain. The "Athenaeum" was "not at liberty on this occasion" to publish the name of this man whom Gypsies called "Brother," but apparently it would not be the name of any writer hitherto known to readers of the "Athenaeum." He was a month in England, and then left for Spain to print and distribute Testaments. He had hardly put his feet on Spanish soil than, said the Marquis of Santa Colona, {137} he "looked round, saw some Gypsies lounging there, said something that the Marquis could not understand, and immediately 'that man became _une grappe de Gitanos_.' They hung round his neck, clung to his knees, seized his hands, kissed his feet, so that the Marquis hardly liked to join his comrade again, after such close embraces by so dirty a company." At Cordova he was very well received by the Gypsies "on the supposition that he was one of their own race." He says in "The Gypsies of Spain":