I mentioned to them that I wanted to show, during my inquiries, both sides of the question, and should be glad if they would point out to me the name of a Gipsy whom they could look up to and consider as a good pattern for them to follow. Here they began to scratch their heads, and said I had put them “a nightcap on.” “Upon my soul,” said one, “I should not know where to begin to look for one,” and then related to me the following story:—“The Devil sent word to some of his agents for them to send him the worst man they could find upon the face of the earth. So news went about among various societies everywhere, consultations and meetings were held, and it was decided that a Gipsy should be sent, as none of the societies or agents could find one bad enough. Accordingly a passport was procured, and they started the Gipsy on his way. When he came to the door of hell he knocked for admittance. The Devil shouted out, ‘Who is there?’ The Gipsy cried out, ‘A Gipsy.’ ‘All right,’ said the Devil; ‘you are just the man I am wanting. I have been on the look-out for you some time. Come in. I have been told the Gipsies are the worst folks in all the world.’ The Gipsy had not been long in hell before the Devil perceived that he was too bad for his place, and the place began to swarm with young imps to such a degree that the Devil called the Gipsy to him one day, and said, ‘Of all the people that have ever come to this place you are the worst. You are too bad for us. Here is your passport. Be off back again!’ The Devil opened the door, and said, as the Gipsy was going, ‘Make yourself scarce.’ So you see,” said Lee to me, “we are too bad for the Devil. We’ll go anywhere, fight anybody, or do anything. Now, lads, drink that ‘fourpenny’ up, and let’s send for some more.” This is Gipsy life in England on a Sunday afternoon within the sound of church bells. [Picture: A Fortune-telling Gipsy enjoying her pipe]