and if you hold it fast for one minute, and shut your eyes during that time, you will not be able to tell me which it is that you have in it."
"That I am sure I would," replied Tim; and I made the same assertion.
"Well, I was taken in that way at a fair, and lost ten shillings by the wager; now, we'll try whether you can tell or not." He took out some money from his pocket, which he selected without our seeing it, put a coin into the hand of each of us, closing our fists over it, "and now," said he, "keep your eyes shut for a minute."
We did so, and a second or two afterwards we heard a voice which we instantly recognised. "Nay, but it was wrong to leave me on the way side thus, having agreed to pay the sum demanded. At my age one walketh not without fatigue, Excipenda tamen quædam sunt urbium, as Philostratus says, meaning, 'that old limbs lose their activity, and seek the help of a crutch.'"
"There's the doctor," cried Timothy, with his eyes still shut.
"Now open your eyes," said the man, "and tell me, before you open your hand, what there is in it."
"A halfpenny in mine," said Tim.
"A guinea in mine," replied I.
We opened our hands, and they were empty.
"Where the devil is it?" exclaimed I, looking at Tim.
"And where the devil's the doctor?" replied he, looking round.
"The money is in the doctor's pocket," replied the man, smiling.
"Then where is the doctor's pocket?"
"Here," replied he, slapping his pocket, and looking significantly at us. "I thought you were certain of knowing him again. About as certain as you were of telling the money in your hand."
He then, to our astonishment, imitated the doctor's voice, and quoted prosody syntax, and Latin. Timothy and I were still in astonishment, when he continued, "If I had not found out that you were in want of employ, and further, that your services would be useful to me, I should not have made this discovery. Do you now think that you know enough to enter into my service? It is light work, and not bad pay; and now you may choose."
"I trust," said I, "that there is no dishonesty?"
"None that you need practise, if you are so scrupulous; perhaps your scruples may some day be removed. I make the most of my wares—every merchant does the same. I practise upon the folly of mankind—it is on that, that wise men live."
Timothy gave me a push, and nodded his head for me to give my consent. I reflected a few seconds, and at last I extended my hand. "I consent," replied I, "with the reservation I have made."
"You will not repent," said he; "and I will take your companion, not that I want him particularly, but I do want you. The fact is, I want a lad of gentlemanly address, and handsome appearance—with the very knowledge you possess—and now we will say no more for the present. By-the-bye, was that real Latin of yours?"
"No," replied I, laughing; "you quoted the grammar, and I replied with medical prescriptions. One was as good as the other."
"Quite—nay, better; for the school-boys may find me out, but not you. But now observe, when we come to the next cross road, we must get down—at least, I expect so; but we shall know in a minute."
In about the time he mentioned, a dark, gipsy-looking man looked into the wagon, and spoke to our acquaintance in an unknown language. He replied in the same, and the man disappeared. We continued our route for about a quarter of an hour, when he got out, asked us to follow him, and speaking a few words to the fool, which I did not hear, left him and the boy in the wagon. We paid our fare, took possession of our bundles, and followed our new companion for a few minutes on the cross road, when he stopped, and said, "I must now leave you, to prepare for your reception into our fraternity; continue straight on this road until you arrive at a lime-kiln, and wait there till I come."
He sprang over a stile, and took a direction verging at an angle from the road, forced his way through a hedge, and disappeared from our sight. "Upon my word, Timothy," said I, "I hardly know what to say to this. Have we done right in trusting to this man, who, I am afraid! is a great rogue? I do not much like mixing with these gipsy people, for such I am sure he belongs to."
"I really do not see how we can do better," replied Timothy. "The world is all before us, and we must force our own way through it. As for his being a quack doctor, I see no great harm in that. People put their faith in nostrums more than they do in regular medicines; and it is well known that quack medicines, as they call them, cure as often as others, merely for that very reason."
"Very true, Timothy; the mind once at ease, the body soon recovers, and faith, even in quack medicines, will often make people whole; but do you think that he does no more than impose upon people in that way?"
"He may, or he may not; at all events, we need do no more, I suppose."
"I am not sure of that; however, we shall see. He says we may be useful to him, and I suppose we shall be, or he would not have engaged us—we shall soon find out."
Chapter X
In which the reader is introduced to several new acquaintances, and all connected with them, except birth and parentage, which appears to be the one thing wanting throughout the whole of this work.
By this time we had arrived at the lime-kiln to which we had been directed, and we sat down on our bundles, chatting for about five minutes, when our new acquaintance made his appearance, with something in his hand, tied up in a handkerchief.
"You may as well put your coats into your bundles, and put on these frocks," said he, "you will appear better among us, and be better received, for there is a gathering now, and some of them are queer customers. However, you have nothing to fear; when once you are with my wife and me, you are quite safe; her little finger would protect you from five hundred."
"Your wife! who, then, is she?" inquired I, as I put my head through the smock frock.
"She is a great personage among the gipsies. She is, by descent, one of the heads of the tribe, and none dare to disobey her."
"And you—are you a gipsy?"
"No, and yes. By birth I am not, but by choice, and marriage, I am admitted; but I was not born under a hedge, I can assure you, although I very often pass a night there now—that is, when I am domestic; but do not think that you are to remain long here; we shall leave in a few days, and may not meet the tribe again for months, although you may see my own family occasionally. I did not ask you to join me to pass a gipsy's life—no, no, we must be stirring and active. Come, we are now close to them. Do not speak as you pass the huts, until you have entered mine. Then you may do as you please."
We turned short round, passed through a gap in the hedge, and found ourselves on a small retired piece of common, which was studded with about twenty or thirty low gipsy huts. The fires were alight and provisions apparently cooking. We passed by nine or ten, and obeyed our guide's injunctions, to keep silence. At last we stopped, and perceived ourselves to be standing by the fool, who was dressed
