and anywhere. I took the trouble to explode this lie, and went to London to do it. I obtained from the directors of cemeteries in England and Scotland certificates as to our mode of burial. These certificates in every instance disproved Smith’s slanders, but he has not had the courage to withdraw them. Why, we have even here a burying ground, which has been procured from Sir Archibald Campbell. My sister is buried there, and she brought her son all the way from Galway, in Ireland, to be interred here. That does not look like neglecting our dead, does it? Then this man from Coalville says that we are filthier than the pigs. Does this little place of mine look like a pig-stye? The real gipsy, the dweller in tents, is cleaner than those who reside in houses. If a dog should lick any plate or vessel it is not afterwards used, but is destroyed or disposed of. Is that like the conduct of persons who, according to this man, are swinish in their habits? “We call ourselves Protestants of the Church of England, and are christened, married, and buried at the church nearest to us. We have not joined a church in Glasgow yet, but in Edinburgh we went to Dr. Rankin’s. “When a death takes place in the camp the corpse is laid out on the ground. The body is usually kept for a week, and during that time none of us go to sleep. A light is kept burning and we EAT NO MEAT until the grave closes over the departed. All that we take in the way of food is a cup of tea, or a bit of dry bread. We pay great reverence to our dead, more so than any other race on the face of the earth. There is a custom universal among our people, namely, of refraining from some usage or indulgence in honour of the departed. What I mean is this. Suppose the deceased was addicted to drink, it is common for the deceased’s brother to never taste liquor during the remainder of his life. That will do for an example. At our wakes no whisky is drunk, and a silence deep as the grave pervades the tents. “There is nothing peculiar about our marriages. We just go to the minister, or else get a license. I must say that THE SHERIFF’S LICENSE is the most popular and the least expensive. “Fifty years ago it was deemed an unheard of thing for a royal gipsy to marry a person of another race. In fact it was treason. To-day, among the genuine gipsies, it is nothing short of a crime. I have myself experienced the effects of this inter-marrying, and I tell you that it has not been satisfactory. One of my children has gone outside of our people. I make the statement, fearless of contradiction, that our people, in the aggregate, are the most moral that you can find. Search the CRIMINAL RECORDS OF THE CENTURY and you will not find an instance where a gipsy has stained his hands with human blood. He may have been hung for stealing a sheep or a horse, but not for committing a murder.