I almost wished that I had lived some two or three hundred years ago, that I might have observed these people when they were yet stranger than at present.

I wondered whether I could have introduced myself to their company at that period, whether I should have been so fortunate as to meet such a strange, half- malicious, half good-humoured being as Jasper, who would have instructed me in the language, then more deserving of note than at present.

What might I not have done with that language, had I known it in its purity?
Why, I might have written books in it; yet those who spoke it would 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.