From this time I had frequent interviews with Jasper. He taught me much
Romany, and introduced me to Tawno Chikno, the biggest man of the gipsy
nation, and to Mrs. Chikno. These stood to him as parents, for his own
were banished. I soon found that in the tents I had become acquainted
with a most interesting people. With their language I was fascinated,
though at first I had taken it for mere gibberish. My rapid progress
astonished and delighted Jasper. "We'll no longer call you Sapengro,
brother," said he, "but Lavengro, which in the language of the gorgios
meaneth word-master." And Jasper's wife actually proposed that I should
marry her sister.

The gipsies departed for England. I was now sixteen, and continued in
the house of my parents, passing my time chiefly in philological
pursuits. But it was high time that I should adopt some profession. My
father would gladly have seen me enter the Church, but feared I was too
erratic. So I was put to the law, but while remaining a novice at that
pursuit, I became a perfect master of the Welsh language. My father soon
began to feel that he had made a mistake in the choice of a profession
for me.

My elder brother, who had cultivated a great taste for painting, told me
one evening that father had given him £150 and his blessing, and that he
was going to London to improve himself in his art.

My father was taken ill with severe attacks of gout, and, in a touching
conversation, assured me that his end was approaching. Before that sad
event happened, my brother, whom he longed to see, arrived home. My
father died with the name of Christ on his lips. The brave old soldier,
during intervals between his attacks, had told me more of his life than