The abject and humble behaviour of a poor negro's dog in America was once proverbial: the quaint shrewdness, the droll roguery, the demure devilry of a real Gipsy dog are beyond all praise.
The most valuable dogs to the Gipsies are by no means remarkable for size or beauty, or any of the properties which strike the eye; on the contrary, an ugly, shirking, humble-looking, two-and-sixpenny-countenanced cur, if he have but intellect, is much more their _affaire_.

Yesterday morning, while sitting among the tents of "ye Egypcians," I overheard a knot of men discussing the merits of a degraded-looking doglet, who seemed as if he must have committed suicide, were he only gifted with sense enough to know how idiotic he looked.

"Would you take seven pounds for him ?" asked one.

"Avo, I would take seven bar; but I wouldn't take six, nor six an' a half neither." The stranger who casts an inquisitive eye, though from afar off, into a Gipsy camp, is at once noted; and if he can do this before the wolf--I mean the Rom--sees him, he must possess the gift of fern-seed and walk invisible, as was illustrated by the above-mentioned yesterday visit.
Passing over the bridge, I paused to admire the scene.

It was a fresh sunny morning in October, the autumnal tints were beautiful in golden brown or oak red, while here and there the horse-chestnuts spread their saffron robes, waving in the embraces of the breeze like hetairae of the forest.