honour of the departed--a sacrifice, as it were, to their _manes_--and I
believe that, by inquiring, it will be found to exist among all Gipsies
in all parts of the world. In England it is shown by observances which
are maintained at great personal inconvenience, sometime for years, or
during life. Thus, there are many Gipsies who, because a deceased
brother was fond of spirits, have refrained, after his departure, from
tasting them, or who have given up their favourite pursuits, for the
reason that they were last indulged in, in company with the lost and
loved one.

As a further illustration, I will give in the original Gipsy-language, as
I myself took it down rapidly, but literally, the comments of a
full-blooded Gipsy on this custom--the translation being annexed. I
should state that the narrative which precedes his comments was a reply
to my question, Why he invariably declined my offer of cigars?

"No; I never toovs cigaras, kek. I never toovs 'em kenna since my pal's
chavo Job mullered. And I'll pooker tute how it welled."

"It was at the boro wellgooro where the graias prasters. I was kairin
the paiass of the koshters, and mandy dicked a rye an' pookered him for a
droppi levinor. '_Avali_,' he penned, 'I'll del you levinor and a kushto
tuvalo too.' 'Parraco,' says I, 'rya.' So he del mandy the levinor and
a dozen cigaras. I pet em adree my poachy an' jailed apre the purge and
latched odoi my pal's chavo, an' he pook'd mandy, 'Where you jallin to,
kako?' And I penned: 'Job, I've lelled some covvas for tute.' 'Tacho,'
says he--so I del him the cigaras. Penned he: 'Where did tute latcher
'em?' 'A rye del 'em a mandy.' So he pet em adree his poachy, an'
pookered mandy, 'What'll tu lel to pi?' 'A droppi levinor.' So he
penned, 'Pauli the grais prasters, I'll jal atut the puvius and dick