We had been three days in the camp when the gathering was broken up, each gang taking their own way. What the meeting was about I could not exactly discover; one occasion of it was to make arrangements relative to the different counties in which the subdivisions were to sojourn during the next year, so that they might know where to communicate with each other, and, at the same time, not interfere by being too near; but there were many other points discussed, of which, as a stranger, I was kept in ignorance. Melchior answered all my questions with apparent candour, but his habitual deceit was such, that whether he told the truth or not was impossible to be ascertained by his countenance.

  When the gathering dispersed we packed up, and located ourselves about two miles from the common, on the borders of a forest of oak and ash. Our food was chiefly game, for we had some excellent poachers among us; and as for fish, it appeared to be at their command; there was not a pond nor a pit but they could tell in a moment if it were tenanted, and if tenanted, in half an hour every fish would be floating on the top of the water, by the throwing in of some intoxicating sort of berry; other articles of food occasionally were found in the caldron; indeed, it was impossible to fare better than we did, or at less expense.

  Our tents were generally pitched not far from a pool of water, and to avoid any unpleasant search, which sometimes would take place, everything liable to detection was sunk under the water until it was required for cooking; once in the pot, it was considered as safe. But with the foraging, Timothy and I had nothing to do; we participated in the eating, without asking any questions as to how it was procured.

  My time was chiefly spent in company with Melchior, who initiated me into all the mysteries of cups and balls — juggling of every description — feats with cards, and made me acquainted with all his apparatus for prepared tricks. For hours and hours was I employed by his directions in what is called “making the pass” with a pack of cards, as almost all tricks on cards depend upon your dexterity in this manoeuvre. In about a month I was considered as a very fair adept; in the meantime, Timothy had to undergo his career of gymnastics, and was to be seen all day tumbling and retumbling, until he could tumble on his feet again. Light and active, he soon became a very dexterous performer, and could throw a somerset either backwards or forwards, walk on his hands, eat fire, pull out ribbons, and do fifty other tricks to amuse a gaping audience. Jumbo also was worked hard, to bring down his fat, and never was allowed his dinner until he had given satisfaction to Melchior. Even little Fleta had to practise occasionally, as we were preparing for an expedition. Melchior, who appeared determined to create an effect, left us for three days, and returned with not only dresses for Timothy and me, but also new dresses for the rest of the company; and shortly afterwards, bidding farewell to Nattée and the rest of the gipsies, we all set out — that is, Melchior, I, Timothy, Fleta, Num, and Jumbo. Late in the evening we arrived at the little town of —— , and took up our quarters at a public-house, with the landlord of which Melchior had already made arrangements.

  “Well, Timothy,” said I, as soon as we were in bed, “how do you like our new life and prospects?”

  “I like it better than Mr Cophagus’s rudimans, and carrying out physic, at all events. But how does your dignity like turning Merry Andrew, Japhet?”

  “To tell you the truth, I do not dislike it. There is a wildness and a devil-may-care feeling connected with it which is grateful to me at present. How long it may last I cannot tell; but for a year or two it appears to me that we may be very happy. At all events, we shall see the world, and have more than one profession to fall back upon.”

  “That is true; but there is one thing that annoys me, Japhet, which is, we may have difficulty in leaving these people when we wish. Besides, you forget that you are losing sight of the principal object you had in view, that is, of ‘finding out your father.’”

  “I certainly never expect to find him among the gipsies,” replied I, “for children are at a premium with them. They steal from others, and are not very likely therefore to leave them at the Foundling. But I do not know whether I have not as good a chance in our present employment as in any other. I have often been thinking that as fortune-tellers, we may get hold of many strange secrets; however, we shall see. Melchior says, that he intends to appear in that character as soon as he has made a harvest in his present one.”

  “What do you think of Melchior, now that you have been so much with him?”

  “I think him an unprincipled man, but still with many good qualities. He appears to have a pleasure in deceit, and to have waged war with the world in general. Still he is generous, and, to a certain degree, confiding; kind in his disposition, and apparently a very good husband. There is something on his mind which weighs him down occasionally, and checks him in the height of his mirth. It comes over him like a dark cloud over a bright summer sun; and he is all gloom for a few minutes. I do not think that he would now commit any great crime; but I have a suspicion that he has done something which is a constant cause of remorse.”

  “You are a very good judge of character, Japhet. But what a dear little child is that Fleta! She may exclaim with you— ‘Who is my father?’”

  “Yes, we are both in much the same predicament, and that it is which I believe has so much increased my attachment to her. We are brother and sister in misfortune, and a sister she ever shall be to me, if such is the will of Heaven. But we must rise early to-morrow, Tim; so good-night.”

  “Yes, to-morrow it will be juggle and tumble — eat fire — um — and so on, as Mr Cophagus would have said; so good-night, Japhet.”

  The next morning we arrayed ourselves in our new habiliments; mine were silk stockings, shoes, and white kerseymere kneed breeches, a blue silk waistcoat loaded with tinsel, and a short jacket to correspond of blue velvet, a sash round my waist, a hat and a plume of feathers. Timothy declared I looked very handsome, and as the glass said the same as plain as it could speak, I believed him. Timothy’s dress was a pair of wide Turkish trousers and red jacket, with spangles. The others were much the same. Fleta was attired in small, white satin, Turkish trousers, blue muslin and silver embroidered frock, worked sandals, and her hair braided and plaited in long tails behind, and she looked like a little sylph. Melchior’s dress was precisely the same as mine, and a more respectable company was seldom seen. Some musicians had been hired, and handbills were now circulated all over the town, stating that Signor Eugenio Velotti, with his company, would have the honour of performing before the nobility and gentry. The bill contained the fare which was to be provided, and intimated the hour of the performance, and the prices to be paid for the seats. The performance was to take place in a very large room attached to the inn, which, previous to the decadence of the town, had been used as an assembly-room. A platform was erected on the outside, on which were placed the musicians, and where we all occasionally made our appearance in our splendid dresses to attract the wonder of the people. There we strutted up and down, all but poor little Fleta, who appeared to shrink at the display from intuitive modesty. When the music ceased, a smart parley between Melchior and me, and Philotas, and Timothy, as the two fools, would take place; and Melchior declared, after the performance was over, that we conducted ourselves to admiration.

  “Pray, Mr Philotas, do me the favour to tell me how many people you think are now present?” said Melchior to Num, in an imperative voice.

  “I don’t know,” said Num, looking up with his idiotical, melancholy face.

  “Ha! ha! ha’” roared the crowd at Num’s stupid answer.

  “The fellow’s a fool’” said Melchior, to the gaping audience.

  “Well, then, if he can’t tell, perhaps you may, Mr Dionysius,” said I, addressing Tim.

  “How many, sir? Do you want to know exactly and directly?”

  “Yes, sir, immediately.”

  “Without counting, sir?”

  “Yes, sir, without counting.”

  “Well then, sir, I will tell, and make no mistake; there’s exactly as many again as half.”

  “Ha! ha! ha!” from the crowd.

  “That won’t do, sir. How many may be the half?”

  “How many may be the half? Do you know yourself, sir?”

  “Yes, sir, to be sure I do.”

  “Then there’s no occasion for me to tell you.”

  “Ha! ha! ha!”

  “Well then, sir,” continued Melchior to Philotas, “perhaps you’ll tell how many ladies and gentlemen we may expect to honour us with their company to-night.”

  “How many, sir?”

  “Yes, sir, how many.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Num, after a pause.

  “Positively you are the greatest fool I ever met with,” said Melchior.

  “Well, he does act the fool as natural as life,” observed the crowd. “What a stupid face he does put on!”

  “Perhaps you will be able to answer that question, Mr Dionysius,” said I to Tim.

  “Yes, sir, I know exactly.”

  “Well, sir, let’s hear.”

  “In the first place, all the pretty women will come, and all the ugly ones stay away; and as for the men, all those who have got any money will be certain to come; those who haven’t, poor devils, must stay outside.”

  “Suppose, sir, you make a bow to the ladies.”

  “A very low one, sir?”

  “Yes, very low indeed.”

  Tim bent his body to the ground, and threw a somerset forward. “There, sir; I bowed so low, that I came up on the other side.”

  “Ha! ha! capital!” from the crowd.

  “I’ve got a round turn in my back, sir,” continued Tim, rubbing himself. “Hadn’t I better take it out again?”

  “By all means.”

  Tim threw a somerset backwards. “There, sir, all’s right now. One good turn deserves another. Now I’ll be off.”

  “Where are you going to, sir?”

  “Going, sir!! Why, I left my lollipop in the tinder-box, and I’m going to fetch it.”

  “Ha! ha! ha!”

  “Strike up, music!” and Master Jumbo commenced tumbling.

  Such was the elegant wit with which we amused and attracted the audience. Perhaps, had we been more refined, we should not have been so successful.

  That evening we had the room as full as it could hold. Signor Velotti alias Melchior astonished them. The cards appeared to obey his commands — rings were discovered in lady’s shoes — watches were beat to a powder and made whole — canary birds flew out of eggs. The audience were delighted. The entertainment closed with Fleta’s performance on the slack wire; and certainly never was there anything more beautiful and graceful. Balanced on the wire in a continual, waving motion, her eyes fixed upon a point to enable her to maintain her position, she performed several feats, such as the playing with five oranges, balancing swords, &c. Her extreme beauty — her very picturesque and becoming dress — her mournful expression and downcast eyes — her gentle manner, appeared to win the hearts of the audience; and when she was assisted off from her perilous situation by Melchior and me, and made her graceful courtesy, the plaudits were unanimous.

  When the company dispersed I went to her, intending to praise her, but I found her in tears. “What is the matter, my dear Fleta?”

  “O nothing! don’t say I have been crying — but I cannot bear it — so many people looking at me. Don’t say a word to Melchior — I won’t cry any more.”

  Chapter XII

  It is very easy to humbug those who are so eager to be humbugged as people are in this world of humbug — We show ourselves excessively disinterested, 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.