The affair was held in a large tent capable of accommodating, say, a hundred to a hundred and fifty persons. We had a “full house” and the odour of hops was very perceptible; but this was a trifling matter which, if noticed at all by the majority of the audience, was immediately forgotten when the programme was commenced. Names had been given during the morning by those who were willing to sing, or otherwise contribute to the amusement or entertainment of the company. Our platform consisted of a box placed bottom upward, the tent was illuminated by two hanging lamps, and as there was no charge for admission, every grade of gypsy society contributed its quota of audience, among whom were many good-looking girls, a fair sprinkling of men and a number of women whose beauty had not for several years been remarkable; there was also present a small contingent of the rough element, one or two of whom caused a little trouble at times by perpetrating idiotic practical jokes, one of which was that a youth would commence to set on fire the coat-tail of some one directly in front of him; however, these disturbers of the peace were soon noticed, and, as I had anticipated, were advised in very forcible language to get outside. As they were discreet enough to withdraw, our programme subsequently went along very well. One or two humorous songs were sung by gypsies, and, strangely enough, not the slightest indication of humour was apparent in either intonation or gesture. Songs of a more or less sentimental character were the rule, although we had some rollicking songs towards the end, to which a girl executed a step-dance on the box until a board gave way. The singing of the Romany girls was very seductive; whether this was due to the witchery of their glances, their winning manner, or the peculiar, weird style of singing, I have not been able to determine; as a rule, their voices are good, they sing in tune, and usually are unaccompanied by any instrument. I am not able to call to mind the titles of all the songs of the evening, but the following were favourites:— “Home is home.” “When the fields are white with daisies.” “Put my little shoes away.” “I’ve been lonely since my mother died.” One small boy announced the title of a poem he was going to recite, but when mounted upon the box in front of the audience he commenced with something of so different a nature that the management decided hastily he had better step down and the audience would forego the remainder, which, I learned subsequently, was worse than the verse we heard. The next boy, however, gave us a treat, for he had the voice of a seraph and sang well,—indeed, I often heard the boy in the hop fields and could generally track him down by his voice. Some of the “home-dwellers” also contributed to the evening’s entertainment, one of them being good enough to bring a gramophone. At last “God save the King” was sung, and we prepared to depart to our respective vans and tents.