on the previous day, one lad said they were ‘tulips, hyacinths, and cyclaments,’ but nobody could give us an intelligible description of the last-named flowers. Two lads generally took charge of the flower truck, and the result of the day’s hawking was usually a profit of half-a-crown to three shillings. These lads also assisted during the week in shaving skewers, and accompanied their fathers to market when they had a load to sell. In one tent we found a dandy-hen sitting; she had been so occupied one week, and the presence of the children and adults, who shared her straw bed, in no way discomposed her. We found that baccy and ‘suckers’ were the most negotiable exchanges with these people. The women, young and old, small boys and the men, all smoked, and the day became historic with them because, of the extra smokes they were able to have. The ‘suckers’ were the largest specimen of ‘bulls’ eyes’ we could find—not those dainty specimens sold at the West-end or in the Strand, but real whoppers, almost the size of pigeons’ eggs; and yet there was no baby whose mouth was not found equal to the reception and the hiding of the largest; and we noticed as a strange psychological fact that no baby would consent, though earnestly entreated by its mother, to suffer the ‘sucker’ to leave its mouth for the mother to look at. The babies knew better, shaking their wary little heads at their mothers. Instinct was stronger than obedience. We were not sorry to get away from Lamb-lane, with its filthy habitations, blanket washings, ragged boys and girls, lazy men and women. For the genuine Gipsy tribe, and their mysterious promptings to live apart from their fellows in the lanes and fields of the country, we have a sentimental pity; but with such as these Lamb-lane people, off-scourings of the lowest form of society, we have no manner of sympathy; and we hope that a gracious Act of Parliament may soon rid English social life of such a plague, and teach such people their duty to their children and to society at large—things they are too ignorant and too idle to learn for themselves.” My son sends me the following account of a visit he made to a Gipsy encampment near London:—I visited the camp at Barking Road this afternoon. Possibly you thought I might not go if you gave me a correct description of the route, for I certainly went through more muddy streets and over lock-bridges than your instructions mentioned. Presuming I was near the camp, I inquired of a policeman, and was surprised with the reply that there used to be one, but he had not heard anything of it for a long while. His mind was evidently wandering, or else he meant it as a joke, for we were then standing within three hundred yards of the largest encampment I have yet seen. It is situated at the back of Barking Road, in what may be termed a field, but it certainly is not a green one, for the only horse and donkey that I saw were standing against boxes eating—perhaps corn.