which astonishes everybody.
I kissed and consoled her; she threw her arm round my neck, and remained there with her face hid for some time. We then joined the others at supper. Melchior was much pleased with our success, and highly praised the conduct of Timothy and myself, which he pronounced was, for the first attempt, far beyond his expectations.
We continued to astonish all the good people of—— for five days, when we discovered the indubitable fact, that there was no more money to be extracted from their pockets, upon which we resumed our usual clothes and smock frocks, and with our bundles in our hands, set off for another market town, about fifteen miles distant. There we were equally successful, and Melchior was delighted with our having proved such a powerful acquisition to his troop: but not to dwell too long upon one subject, I shall inform the reader that, after a trip of six weeks, during which we were very well received, we once more returned to the camp, which had located within five miles of our last scene of action. Every one was content—we were all glad to get back and rest from our labours. Melchior was pleased with his profits, poor little Fleta overjoyed to be once more in the seclusion of her tent, and Nattée very glad to hear of our good fortune, and to see her husband. Timothy and I had already proved ourselves so useful, that Melchior treated us with the greatest friendship and confidence—and he made us a present out of the gains, for our exertions; to me he gave ten, and to Timothy five, pounds.
"There, Japhet, had you hired yourself I should not have paid you more than seven shillings per week, finding you in food; but you must acknowledge that for six weeks that is not bad pay. However, your earnings will depend upon our success, and I rather think that we shall make a much better thing of it when next we start, which will be in about a fortnight; but we have some arrangements to make. Has Timothy a good memory?"
"I think he has."
"That is well. I told you before that we are to try the 'Wise Man,'—but first we must have Nattée in play. To-morrow we will start for——," mentioning a small quiet town about four miles off.
We did so, early the next morning, and arrived about noon, pitching our tents on the common, not far from the town; but in this instance we left all the rest of our gang behind. Melchior's own party and his two tents were all that were brought by the donkeys.
Melchior and I, dressed as countrymen, went into the town at dusk, and entered a respectable sort of inn, taking our seats at one of the tables in the tap-room, and, as we had already planned, after we had called for beer, commenced a conversation in the hearing of the others who were sitting drinking and smoking.
"Well, I never will believe it—it's all cheat and trickery," said Melchior, "and they only do it to pick your pocket. Tell your fortune, indeed! I suppose she promised you a rich wife and half-a-dozen children."
"No, she did not," replied I, "for I am too young to marry; but she told me what I know has happened."
"Well, what was that?"
"Why, she told me that my mother had married again, and turned me out of doors to work for my bread."
"But she might have heard that."
"How could she? No, that's not possible; but she told me I had a mole on my knee, which was a sign of luck. Now how could she know that?"
"Well, I grant that was odd—and pray what else did she promise you?"
"Why, she said, that I should meet with my dearest friend to-night. Now that does puzzle me, for I have but one in the world, and he is a long way off."
"Well, if you do meet your friend, then I'll believe her; but if not, it has been all guess-work; and pray what did you pay for all this—was it a shilling, or did she pick your pocket?"
"That's what puzzles me—she refused to take anything. I offered it again and again, and she said,'No; that she would have no money—that her gift was not to be sold.'"
"Well, that is odd. Do you hear what this young man says," said Melchior, addressing the others, who had swallowed every word.
"Yes," replied one; "but who is this person?"
"The queen of the gipsies, I am told. I never saw such a wonderful woman in my life—her eye goes right through you. I met her on the common, and, as she passed, she dropped a handkerchief. I ran back to give it her, and then she thanked me, and said, 'Open your hand and let me see the palm. Here are great lines, and you will be fortunate;' and then she told me a great deal more, and bid God bless me."
"Then if she said that, she cannot have dealings with the devil," observed Melchior.
"Very odd—very strange—take no money—queen of the gipsies," was echoed from all sides.
The landlady and the barmaid listened with wonder, when who should come in, as previously agreed, but Timothy. I pretended not to see him, but he came up to me, seizing me by the hand, and shaking it with apparent delight, and crying, "Wilson, have you forgot Smith?"
"Smith!" cried I, looking earnestly in his face. "Why, so it is. How came you here?"
"I left Dublin three days ago," replied he, "but how I came here into this house, is one of the strangest things that ever occurred. I was walking over the common, when a tall handsome woman looked at me, and said, 'Young man, if you will go into the third public-house you pass, you will meet an old friend, who expects you.' I thought she was laughing at me, but as it mattered very little in which house I passed the night, I thought, for the fun of the thing I might as well take her advice."
"How strange!" cried Melchior, "and she told him the same—that is, he would meet a friend."
"Strange—very strange—wonderful—astonishing!" was echoed from all quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already established.
Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, and Melchior went about from one to the other, narrating the wonderful occurrence till past midnight, when we all three took beds at the inn, as if we were travellers.
The report which we had circulated that evening induced many people to go out to see Nattée, who appeared to take no notice of them; and when asked to tell fortunes, waved them away with her hand. But, although this plan of Melchior's was, for the first two or three days very expedient, yet, as it was not intended to last, Timothy, who remained with me at the inn, became very intimate with the barmaid, and obtained from her most of the particulars of her life. I, also, from repeated conversations with the landlady, received information very important, relative to herself, and many of the families in the town, but as the employment of Nattée was for an ulterior object, we contented ourselves with gaining all the information we could before we proceeded further. After we had been there a week, and the fame of the gipsy woman had been marvellously increased—many things having been asserted of her which were indeed truly improbable—Melchior agreed that Timothy should persuade the barmaid to try if the gipsy woman would tell her fortune: the girl, with some trepidation, agreed, but at the same time, expecting to be refused, consented to walk with him over the common. Timothy advised her to pretend to pick up a sixpence when near to Nattée, and ask her if it did not belong to her, and the barmaid acted upon his suggestions, having just before that quitted the arm of Timothy, who had conducted her.
"Did you drop a sixpence? I have picked up one," said the girl, trembling with fear as she addressed Nattée.
"Child," replied Nattée, who was prepared, "I have neither dropped a sixpence nor have you found
