Very curious terms may be heard—more especially among the half-bred gypsies and Chorodies—for describing complaints or bodily ailments. I am inclined to think that gypsies escape much illness by reason of their outdoor life; they also take care of themselves to a certain extent; herein I allude to genuine Romany folk, for they avoid wet clothes and sitting directly upon damp ground, beside taking other reasonable precautions with regard to health. Chorodies, however, appear usually to take little, if any, care, and as a consequence may often be heard to complain of rheumatism. A gypsy will not, haphazard, drink any sort or condition of water, but a Chorodie seems to drink anything that looks like it. At times, a gypsy will, of course, be compelled either to go without or to drink water that an American would describe as “tough stuff”; in such case he almost invariably boils the water well before using it, so avoiding all ill-effects. At various times during my wanderings with the Romanies I have been obliged to drink water which would be better described as “half and half” mud and water, rather than as the product of the crystal spring, but even this, after being well boiled and made into tea, lost what might be termed its individuality and no ill-effects ensued. The Romanichal—in bygone days—had a fair knowledge of vegetable poisons, and methods of preparing them for use—and misuse—but the knowledge would appear to have lapsed, for nowadays one never hears of poison being used by gypsies, either to drab baulo or to convert an enemy. This kind of thing seems to belong to the obscurity of the “good old days,” when men were put to death as heretics, and others were hung for stealing or even for being gypsies. [Illustration: See page 249] CHAPTER XII Gypsies, being human, must of necessity obtain in some way the wherewithal to sustain life. As the earning of bread by the sweat of the brow is not by any means the curse some people try to make it, it _may_ be logical to refuse a helping hand while pretending to think that gypsies should consider themselves fortunate in that they have to work hard—with a capital H for the most part—to obtain barely sufficient to keep together body and soul, but such sophistries are never convincing or conclusive to those who regulate their work in the world by the golden rule. There are scores of gypsies to-day who would gladly learn a “gypsy trade,” i.e. some handicraft that can be learned and plied without antagonism to the nomadic instincts of the people, such as, say, the work of a general whitesmith, or working cutler,—toy-making and so on.