Unlovable features exist in every community—gypsy or otherwise—and unfortunately, perhaps, for the reputation of the gypsies, their inaccessibility has in most cases necessitated the employment by the gorgio writer of “narrow-angle” vision (to use a photographic simile), the inevitable result of which has been that their unattractive qualities loom large in the foreground, and upon these attention is focussed, while the real picture in the rear is obliterated or rendered indistinguishable. Many of the Romany folk are unable to read, which fact, in conjunction with their manner of living, places them at a great disadvantage with respect to the expression of their ideas on many topics, but that they appreciate the beautiful in nature, have a crude philosophy, and decided opinions on equity may be gathered from the following incidents and conversational anecdotes, which I give with colloquialisms verbatim. One evening, as the setting sun was transforming the western horizon into a panorama of wonderful colour-blending, I came upon a young gypsy woman standing upon a slight eminence evidently watching the glorious sky. Just as I came up to her, a motor vehicle whizzed past on the road near to us. The gypsy turned to view the begoggled occupants and, perceiving me, blurted out— “What do you think they look like?” while her lip curved and a look of intense contempt came into her face for the modern man and woman in the car, who were whisking through space, raising clouds of dust and leaving behind, both literally and figuratively, a nasty taste in one’s mouth. Turning again to the magnificent sky picture she remarked as though she were a different woman: “I say, ain’t it lovely!” I expressed my agreement with her in appreciating the lovely scene, but soon descended to more mundane matters by asking if she had seen anything of a particular branch of the Vardomescro family, for if they were, as I supposed, in the vicinity, I intended to visit the camp. She replied that she thought they must have moved before she came to the spot last evening. However, I searched around with the hope of finding some sign that would enable me to ascertain their whereabouts. I soon found what may be termed their notice of change of address, but as the arrangement of sticks and leaves had been to some extent disturbed,—presumably by some wandering animal,—it was a little difficult to decipher, nevertheless there was sufficient to indicate that they had gone about two miles away to the north. As it was now too late in the evening to set out I decided to postpone my visit until the morrow, which, judging from the stratus clouds about the setting sun, would be fine.