With regard to the language of the Romany, whether heard in the most distant parts of the globe or in the Liverpool Exhibition (as spoken by my family), it is the same as in different counties in the United Kingdom and in different provinces of continental countries; a slight _patois_ may be observable, but in the main the initiated know that the Romany holds its own with the nomadic people the world over. For character, climate, and circumstances, may in many instances vary the Gitano, Romany, or Bohemian, as we are called, but custom (go where the traveller may) remains the same, the nature and habit of the true Romany prompting him, or her, to a wandering life, and to revel as it were in nature’s solitude. To begin with, I was born on the 3rd of May, 1830, my birth place being on the common called Mousehold Heath, Norwich, Norfolk, my parents having but a few months previously left their old camping ground in Epping Forest, near London. For many, many years, my ancestors recognised the Forest of Epping as their head quarters, and to this day at intervals we visit the spot, a sort of pilgrimage to Mecca as it were; but alas, how different a form it presents to that which it did in my boyhood’s days. House dwellers often have remarked as to the life we lead: many have suggested it to be unhealthy. Now to prove to the contrary, my dear mother died at the age of 75, and my father at the age of 81. I think, speaking of one family only, this will be a sufficient answer as to whether the life of a gipsy, breathing nature’s own atmosphere, is as good as a dweller in houses or not. My family consists of eight children—four boys and four girls—the eldest whom is now 28, the youngest reaching 16.