Then came the summer with much heat and sunshine, and then I would lie for hours in the sun and recall the sunny days I had spent in Andalusia, and my thoughts were continually reverting to Spain, and at last I remembered that the Bible in Spain was still unfinished; whereupon I arose and said: 'This loitering profiteth nothing'--and I hastened to my summer-house by the side of the lake, and there I thought and wrote, and every day I repaired to the same place, and thought and wrote until I had finished the Bible in Spain. * * * * * And, as I wandered along the green, I drew near to a place where several men, with a cask beside them, sat carousing in the neighbourhood of a small tent. 'Here he comes,' said one of them, as I advanced, and standing up he raised his voice and sang:-- 'Here the Gypsy gemman see, With his Roman jib and his rome and dree-- Rome and dree, rum and dry Rally round the Rommany Rye.' It was Mr. Petulengro, who was here diverting himself with several of his comrades; they all received me with considerable frankness. 'Sit down, brother,' said Mr. Petulengro, 'and take a cup of good ale.' I sat down. 'Your health, gentlemen,' said I, as I took the cup which Mr. Petulengro handed to me. 'Aukko tu pios adrey Rommanis. Here is your health in Rommany, brother,' said Mr. Petulengro; who, having refilled the cup, now emptied it at a draught. 'Your health in Rommany, brother,' said Tawno Chikno, to whom the cup came next. 'The Rommany Rye,' said a third. 'The Gypsy gentlemen,' exclaimed a fourth, drinking. And then they all sang in chorus:-- 'Here the Gypsy gemman see, With his Roman jib and his rome and dree-- Rome and dree, rum and dry Rally round the Rommany Rye.' 'And now, brother,' said Mr. Petulengro, 'seeing that you have drunk and been drunken, you will perhaps tell us where you have been, and what about?' 'I have been in the Big City,' said I, 'writing lils' [books]. 'How much money have you got in your pocket, brother?' said Mr. Petulengro. 'Eighteen pence,' said I; 'all I have in the world.' 'I have been in the Big City, too,' said Mr. Petulengro; 'but I have not written lils--I have fought in the ring--I have fifty pounds in my pocket--I have much more in the world. Brother, there is considerable difference between us.' 'I would rather be the lil-writer, after all,' said the tall, handsome, black man; 'indeed, I would wish for nothing better.' 'Why so?' said Mr. Petulengro. 'Because they have so much to say for themselves,' said the black man, 'even when dead and gone. When they are laid in the churchyard, it is their own fault if people a'n't talking of them. Who will know, after I am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, that I was once the beauty of the world, or that you, Jasper, were--' 'The best man in England of my inches. That's true, Tawno--however, here's our brother will perhaps let the world know something about us.'