One day my old Rom hearing an artist speak of having rejected some uncalled- for advice relative to the employment of a certain model, burst out in a tone of hearty approbation with-- "That's what _I_ say.

Every man his own juva (every man his own girl), an' every painter his own _morals_." If it was difficult in the beginning for me to accustom the Gipsy mind to reply clearly and consistently to questions as to his language, the trouble was tenfold increased when he began to see his way, as he thought, to my object, and to take a real interest in aiding me.

For instance, I once asked-- "Puro! do you know such a word as _punji_?
It's the Hindu for capital." (Calmly.) "Yes, rya; that's a wery good word for capital." "But is it Rommany ?" (Decidedly.) "It'll go first-rateus into Rommany." "But can you make it out?
Prove it!" (Fiercely.) "Of course I can make it out.

_Kushto_.

Suppose a man sells 'punge-cake, would'nt that be his capital?
_Punje_ must be capital." But this was nothing to what I endured after a vague fancy of the meaning of seeking a derivation of words had dimly dawned on his mind, and he vigorously attempted to aid me.