But being, like all his race, unused to literary labour, his lively imagination continually led him astray, and as I found amusement in his so doing, it proved to be an easy matter to induce him to wander off into scenes of gipsy life, which, however edifying they might be to my reader, would certainly not have the charm of novelty to the black-eyed lady to whom they were supposed to be addressed.

However, as I read over from time to time to my Rommany chal what I had written, his delight in actually hearing his own words read from writing, partook of all the pride of successful authorship--it was, my dear sir, like your delight over your first proof sheet.
Well, this was the letter.

A translation will be found following it.
THE PANNI GAV, _Dec_.

16, 1871.
MY KAMLI CHAVI,--Kushti bak! My cammoben to turo mush an' turo dadas an' besto bak.

We've had wafri bak, my pen's been naflo this here cooricus, we're doin' very wafro and couldn't lel no wongur.