"Intery, mintery, cutery corn," or in anything else in "Mother Goose." It is alone in its sounds and sense--or nonsense. But there is not a wanderer on the roads in England who on hearing it would not exclaim, "There's a great deal of Romanes in that ere!" And if any one doubts it let him try it on any gypsy who has an average knowledge of Romany. I should say that the word Na-Kelas, which means literally "Do not play," or, "You do not play," was explained to me by a gypsy as signifying not speaking, or keeping quiet. Nicholas John has really no meaning, but "You don't play--go on," fits exactly into a counting-out game. The mystery of mysteries in the Romany tongue--of which I have spoken--is this: The hokkani baro, or huckeny boro, or great trick, consists of three parts. Firstly, the getting into a house or into the confidence of its owner, which is effected in England by offering small wares for sale, or by begging for food, but chiefly by fortune-telling, the latter being the usual pretence in America. If the gypsy woman be at all prepared, she will have learned enough to amaze "the lady of the house," who is thereby made ready to believe anything. The second part of the trick is the conveying away the property, which is, as I have said, to lel dudikabin, or "take lightning," possibly connected with the old canting term for conveyance of bien lightment. There is evidently a confusion of words here. And third is to "chiv o manzin apré lati" to put the oath upon her--the victim--by which she binds herself not to speak of the affair for some weeks. When the deceived are all under oath not to utter a word about the trick, the gypsy mother has a safe thing of it. The hakkani boro, or great trick, or dudikabin, was brought by the gypsies from the East. It has been practised by them all over the world, and is still played every day somewhere. And I have read in the Press of Philadelphia that a Mrs. Brown--whom I sadly and reluctantly believe is the wife of an acquaintance of mine who walks before the world in other names--was arrested for the same old game of fortune-telling, and persuading a simple dame that there was treasure in the house, and all the rest of the "grand deception." And Mrs. Brown--"good old Mrs. Brown"--went to prison, where she doubtless lingered until a bribed alderman, or a purchased pardon, or some one of the numerous devices by which justice is easily evaded in Pennsylvania, delivered her.