_Myself_.—‘You are distracted, O Tuérta: the words say simply, ‘Dwell within us, blessed Maria.’ You have spitten on her búlto this morning in the church, and now you are afraid to repeat four words, amongst which is her name.’ _The One-eyed_.—‘I did not understand them; but I wish I had not said them.’ . . . . . I repeat that there is no individual, however hardened, who is utterly _godless_. The reader will have already gathered from the conversations reported in this volume, and especially from the last, that there is a wide difference between addressing Spanish Gitános and Gitánas and English peasantry: of a certainty what will do well for the latter is calculated to make no impression on these thievish half-wild people. Try them with the Gospel, I hear some one cry, which speaks to all: I did try them with the Gospel, and in their own language. I commenced with Pépa and Chicharona. Determined that they should understand it, I proposed that they themselves should translate it. They could neither read nor write, which, however, did not disqualify them from being translators. I had myself previously translated the whole Testament into the Spanish Rommany, but I was desirous to circulate amongst the Gitános a version conceived in the exact language in which they express their ideas. The women made no objection, they were fond of our tertúlias, and they likewise reckoned on one small glass of Malaga wine, with which I invariably presented them. Upon the whole, they conducted themselves much better than could have been expected. We commenced with Saint Luke: they rendering into Rommany the sentences which I delivered to them in Spanish. They proceeded as far as the eighth chapter, in the middle of which they broke down. Was that to be wondered at? The only thing which astonished me was, that I had induced two such strange beings to advance so far in a task so unwonted, and so entirely at variance with their habits, as translation. These chapters I frequently read over to them, explaining the subject in the best manner I was able. They said it was lachó, and jucál, and mistó, all of which words express approval of the quality of a thing. Were they improved, were their hearts softened by these Scripture lectures? I know not. Pépa committed a rather daring theft shortly afterwards, which compelled her to conceal herself for a fortnight; it is quite possible, however, that she may remember the contents of those chapters on her death-bed; if so, will the attempt have been a futile one? I completed the translation, supplying deficiencies from my own version begun at Badajoz in 1836. This translation I printed at Madrid in 1838; it was the first book which ever appeared in Rommany, and was called ‘Embéo e Majaro Lucas,’ or Gospel of Luke the Saint. I likewise published, simultaneously, the same Gospel in Basque, which, however, I had no opportunity of circulating.