hardly have admitted me to their society at that period, when they
kept more to themselves. Yet I thought that I might possibly have
gained their confidence, and have wandered about with them, and
learnt their language, and all their strange ways, and then--and
then--and a sigh rose from the depth of my breast; for I began to
think, "Supposing I had accomplished all this, what would have been
the profit of it; and in what would all this wild gypsy dream have
terminated?"

Then rose another sigh, yet more profound, for I began to think,
"What was likely to be the profit of my present way of life; the
living in dingles, making pony and donkey shoes, conversing with
gypsy-women under hedges, and extracting from them their odd
secrets?" What was likely to be the profit of such a kind of life,
even should it continue for a length of time?--a supposition not
very probable, for I was earning nothing to support me, and the
funds with which I had entered upon this life were gradually
disappearing. I was living, it is true, not unpleasantly, enjoying
the healthy air of heaven; but, upon the whole, was I not sadly
misspending my time? Surely I was; and, as I looked back, it
appeared to me that I had always been doing so. What had been the
profit of the tongues which I had learnt? had they ever assisted me
in the day of hunger? No, no! it appeared to me that I had always
misspent my time, save in one instance, when by a desperate effort
I had collected all the powers of my imagination, and written the
"Life of Joseph Sell;" but even when I wrote the Life of Sell, was
I not in a false position? Provided I had not misspent my time,
would it have been necessary to make that effort, which, after all,
had only enabled me to leave London, and wander about the country
for a time? But could I, taking all circumstances into