Hubby was placed upon a sack that covered a clump of wood, and was invited to partake some bread and cheese,—while a boy ran into the village to fetch Bob Rakeabout. Having, in his eagerness, utterly forgot his breakfast at home, Hubby felt nothing loth when he saw the food, and accordingly accepted a "good farrantly piece," as the gipsies called it. A humming horn of ale followed, and then another, and another. Indeed, the contents of the huge black earthen bottle were passed about rather freely. Endless questions followed, and strange answers were given; and sometimes the gipsies stared, and at others they smiled, and often they were in danger of laughing outright. At length the boy returned, and, behold! immediately afterwards Bob Rakeabout, the "Noose-larnt" himself, entered the tent! Hubby rose to receive him, bareheaded; but, he knew not how it was, it was somewhat difficult for him to stand, and so he sat down again. As for the great natural phenomenon himself, he stretched his brawny hand to each of the gipsies, and they shook it with remarkable good-humour. Then, seizing the black earthen bottle, he applied it to his mouth, without either using the horn or waiting for invitation to drink. Hubby's thinkings were becoming somewhat confused; but he turned, inwardly, to the fact that Diogenes threw away his dish when he saw the boy drink out of his hand. "Of a verity, the youth is one of Nature's own miracles!" said he to himself. Forthwith, Bob Rakeabout rakishly laughed as he took out a large pouch, composed of mole-skins, and filled with tobacco. He laid it open on the floor of the tent, filled his own short pipe from it, and the gipsies immediately followed his example. Hubby, as yet, had scarcely spoken to Bob; but when the whole company began to smoke, and the antiquary was again pressed to drink, for more than one reason he quietly remarked that he much wished to converse with this youth alone. "Oh, ay," replied the gipsy, whom Hubby had seen first, "Bob will have no objection to that:—you can show this gentleman some noose-larning, can't you, Bob?" The gipsies tittered,—but Bob understood the question,—for much had been said by himself and the gipsies in the peculiar slang of their tribe, which Hubby had not comprehended. "Take another horn, sir," said Bob; "and give us another ten minutes to smoke our pipes out, and I'll show ye some noose-larning, in a twink." Hubby's head swum partly with pleasure, but much more with the strong ale, to which he was unused; but he drank off the other horn, in eager expectation of such a mental feast to follow it as he had never yet tasted. "Come along wi' me, sir!" cried Bob, springing up, suddenly, at the end of less than ten minutes; "come along wi' me, and I'll show ye some noose-larning!" "Are ye really off, Bob?" asked the gipsies, all together. "Ay, ay," he answered, "kick up a roaster, and set on iron-jack against I come back."