In turning now to make a cursory survey of the work being done among the gypsies by the Church Army Mission, I would point out that I have “no axe to grind” anyway, but will speak only of what I know, for I have looked in at their meetings, have had frequent opportunities of viewing their methods, both as an outsider and as a gypsy too, and have been one of the gypsy audiences at their lantern lectures. One of such evening lectures is indelibly impressed on my memory. [Illustration: A “RINKENY CHI.”] In endeavouring to convey an idea of the entertainment and its setting, I must ask the reader to imagine gypsies in ones, twos, threes and irregular parties—assorted in all respects,—age, sex, size and condition,—wending their way in the twilight, along a lane thickly wooded on either hand. It is September, and the teasel heads and seeded umbels of wild angelica stand out, sentinel-wise, along the path leading to the camp where the lecture is to be given. At times it is necessary to pick one’s way very carefully, for darkness is coming on apace, and now and again the young hazels meet overhead, while underfoot it is very muddy and slippery. At last, a sort of clearing is just visible ahead and ever and anon there is wafted by the gentle breeze, a smell as of cooking proceeding, light from camp fires beginning, meanwhile, to play hide-and-seek among the branches of the trees. Upon arriving at the camp one finds that a sheet for the coming pictures is being affixed to the end of a wooden hut; by the time this is in position and the lantern erected, a fair audience has assembled; some are standing, many are squatting on the ground; now our service commences in the usual way, with prayer and the singing of a hymn. To-night, a story is read while being illustrated by life-model slides, and I need scarcely say that its tendency is wholesome, the suppression of evil, triumph of the right and so on. It is interesting to hear the occasional remarks of members of the audience as certain pictures are shown, or particular incidents are related. “How I could love a chavi (child) like that, couldn’t you?” one young woman says to another. Now, an older woman remarks to a friend— “Yes, that’s true, I know drink will do that, for I’ve seen it.” One feels that the story, simple as it is, touches the hearts of the listeners, and cannot but have an uplifting tendency. I am glad to note the total absence of that “button-holing” of the individual which some seem to think so necessary in work of this nature. Gentle, straightforward, persuasive, heart-to-heart talk may, and probably will, win a Romanichal in time, but button-holing—never! I almost tremble to think of any zealous young man who adopts this method with a gypsy; few care to be button-holed in this way, but to try it with a gypsy is to make an enemy.