The attainment of fluency in the language is practically impossible apart from a lengthy sojourn by the aspirant with the people, and even this, by itself, will be of little use, for his physical and temperamental qualifications must be such as commend themselves to those whom he wishes to make his friends, and as a consequence—instructors. However, under the most favourable conditions, direct information will very rarely be imparted, so that the pupil’s progress will largely depend on his powers of absorption and imitation. Generally, Romany is spoken with a free and altogether irregular admixture of English, making it very much more difficult for the novice to get a good start, for not only are the sandwiched English words absolutely meaningless to him, in the unlikely event of his being able to distinguish them, but some of the Romany words having a similar sound to English have a totally different meaning. As might be expected, some slight variations in the pronunciation or enunciation of the English portions occur in different localities; but Romany may be said to be almost free from provincialisms, so that one who is conversant with it will have little difficulty in conversing with gypsies from any part of the country. [Illustration: “THE WEAKER SEX” (?)] A curious fact I have noted, is that Romany names for some of the commonest things, articles in everyday use, have been forgotten by the gypsies, while the names of some objects for which they have no occasion, year in, year out, have been retained in all their original purity. Time and again have I been asked for the Romany names of certain common objects, and upon a word being supplied, my interrogator has repeated it again and again to impress it upon his memory. One of the most fluent speakers I ever met had forgotten the word for “plate,” while another was unable to say “thank you” in Romany, albeit each had a very extensive knowledge of the tongue, including names for many animals, flowers and insects, and was an adept at word building; with respect to this practice it must be borne in mind that the gypsy uses the Romany language much in the same way that a potter uses clay,—he does not alter the character of the material, but moulds it into an expression of his idea. Usually he is little worried by genders or any rules of grammar, his sole purpose being to convey his ideas in the simplest manner possible in the best Romany he has at command, and he considers it as _his_ language, for the use only of himself and his people, being unwilling that a gorgio should learn even a few words of it. “What would be the use of Romany,” said an old man to me, “if sore dinneleskoe gorgios jinned what mande penned?”