known only to the Brahmins of the roads, compared to which the other
language is only commonplace _Prakrit_, which anybody may acquire.

He is proud of his knowledge, he makes of it a deep mystery; and if you,
a gentleman, ask him about it, he will probably deny that he ever heard
of its existence. Should he be very thirsty, and your manners frank and
assuring, it is, however, not impossible that after draining a pot of
beer at your expense, he may recall, with a grin, the fact that he _has_
heard that the Gipsies have a queer kind of language of their own; and
then, if you have any Rommany yourself at command, he will perhaps
_rakker Rommanis_ with greater or less fluency. Mr Simeon, in his
"History of the Gipsies," asserts that there is not a tinker or scissors-
grinder in Great Britain who cannot talk this language, and my own
experience agrees with his declaration, to this extent--that they all
have some knowledge of it, or claim to have it, however slight it may be.

So rare is a knowledge of Rommany among those who are not connected in
some way with Gipsies, that the slightest indication of it is invariably
taken as an irrefutable proof of relationship with them. It is but a few
weeks since, as I was walking along the Marine Parade in Brighton, I
overtook a tinker. Wishing him to sharpen some tools for me, I directed
him to proceed to my home, and _en route_ spoke to him in Gipsy. As he
was quite fair in complexion, I casually remarked, "I should have never
supposed you could speak Rommany--you don't look like it." To which he
replied, very gravely, in a tone as of gentle reproach, "You don't look a
Gipsy yourself, sir; but you know you _are_ one--_you talk like one_."

Truly, the secret of the Rommany has been well kept in England. It seems
so to me when I reflect that, with the exception of Lavengro and the
Rommany Rye, {5} I cannot recall a single novel, in our language, in