the field, in the direction of ----, with the devil close behind him,' says a third. In a word, I am tricked. I wish to dispose of the donkey: no one, however, will buy him; he is a Caló donkey, and every person avoids him. At last the gipsies offer thirty _reals_ for him; and after much chaffering I am glad to get rid of him at two dollars. It is all a trick, however; he returns to his master, and the brotherhood share the spoil amongst them: all which villainy would be prevented, in my opinion, were the Caló language not spoken; for what but the word of Caló could have induced the donkey to behave in such an unaccountable manner?" Both seemed perfectly satisfied with the justness of this conclusion, and continued smoking till their cigars were burnt to stumps, when they arose, twitched their whiskers, looked at us with fierce disdain, and dashing the tobacco-ends to the ground, strode out of the apartment. "Those people seem no friends to the gipsies," said I to Antonio, when the two bullies had departed; "nor to the Caló language either." "May evil glanders seize their nostrils," said Antonio: "they have been _jonjabadoed_ by our people. However, brother, you did wrong to speak to me in Caló, in a _posada_ like this: it is a forbidden language; for, as I have often told you, the king has destroyed the law of the Calés. Let us away, brother, or those _juntunes_ may set the _justicia_ upon us." Towards evening we drew near to a large town or village. "That is Merida," said Antonio, "formerly, as the Busné say, a mighty city of the Corahai. We shall stay here to-night, and perhaps for a day or two, for I have some business of Egypt to transact in this place. Now, brother, step aside with the horse, and wait for me beneath yonder wall. I must go before and see in what condition matters stand." I dismounted from the horse, and sat down on a stone beneath the ruined wall to which Antonio had motioned me. The sun went down, and the air was exceedingly keen; I drew close around me an old tattered gipsy cloak with which my companion had provided me, and being somewhat fatigued, fell into a doze which lasted for nearly an hour. "Is your worship the London Caloró?" said a strange voice close beside me. I started, and beheld the face of a woman peering under my hat. Notwithstanding the dusk, I could see that the features were hideously ugly and almost black; they belonged, in fact, to a gipsy crone at least seventy years of age, leaning upon a staff. "Is your worship the London Caloró?" repeated she. "I am he whom you seek," said I; "where is Antonio?" "Curelando, curelando; baribustres curelós terela," said the crone. "Come with me, Caloró of my _garlochin_, come with me to my little _ker_; he will be there anon."