(My father went to work in a coal mine and his workmates hit father on the nose and broke it; if he hadn’t gone up he’d have been killed.) “Trin petuls kitchema.” (Three Horseshoes public-house.) A man introduced another as “a pal o’ the beng,” which means “brother of the devil.” “Rye, dick at the gry’s (gryor) choring cas.” (Sir, or gentleman, look at the horses stealing hay.) “He kair’d a lot of wongar acoi, he’s chopped his vardo for another, mande dick’d to rardi.” (He made a deal of money here, he has exchanged his van for another, I saw it this night.) [Illustration: “Passing gleams of restless mirth.” H. COLERIDGE.] “When sore Romanichals have jalled, this tan’ll be a mullo poov.” (When all the gypsies have gone away, this place will be like a cemetery.) “A juva mande knew bute chiv’d her tickno te woddrus drey the vardo, but the drab-engro penned she’d be mullo if she atched, so her deya chiv’d her drey the tan.” (A married woman I knew well put her child to bed in the caravan, but the doctor said she wouldn’t live if she stayed there, so her mother put her in the tent.) “Yeck divvus a mush came te mande ta del’d mande yeck coro levinor, mande penned, mande kekko pi levinor. Then yo penned, will tuti pi soda pani or ginger levinor, tuti’s a Romany mush ta mande cams tuti te lei chomany.” (One day a man came to me and gave me a pot of ale; I said I did not drink ale, then he said, will you drink soda water, or ginger beer, you’re a Romany chal and I desire you to take something.) “I pen’d paracrow tuti, pen’d kushti divvus, ta jalled oprey o’ drom te mande’s tan.” (I thanked him, said good day and went along the road to my tent.) “Will mande dick tuti collico sorlo? “I dick’d tuti collico sarla but tuti kekko dick mande.” (Shall I see you to-morrow morning? I saw you yesterday evening but you didn’t see me.) “Here’s to the Romany Rye; he’s kek a cooromengro, but a mush that jins what we pens. He’s kek a killimengro, but a tatcho Romano.” (Here’s to the gypsy gentleman; he’s not a fighting man, but knows just what we say. He’s not a dancing fellow, but one of the gentleman gypsies.) Among the mongrel gypsies and Chorodies a good deal of slang is interposed throughout their talk, and they appear to be unable to judge by the sound of a word whether it be an approximately correct gypsy word or a slang term, whereas the true gypsy, upon hearing a Romany word of which he had no previous knowledge, will say it over and over again, and at last assert, “Yes, that’s right, that’s correct, I can tell.” [Illustration: THE POST-PRANDIAL HALF-HOUR.]