Thereupon, letting the umbrella fall, which I invariably carry about with me in my journeyings, I flung my arms three times up into the air, and in an exceedingly disagreeable voice, owing to a cold which I had had for some time, and which I had caught amongst the lakes of Loughmaben, whilst hunting after Gypsies whom I could not find, Iexclaimed:
"Sossi your nav? Pukker mande tute's nav! Shan tu a mumpli-mushi, or a tatchi Romany?"Which, interpreted into Gorgio, runs thus:
"What is your name? Tell me your name! Are you a mumping woman, or a true Gypsy?"The woman appeared frightened, and for some time said nothing, but only stared at me. At length, recovering herself, she exclaimed, in an angry tone, "Why do you talk to me in that manner, and in that gibberish? I don't understand a word of it.""Gibberish!" said I; "it is no gibberish; it is Zingarrijib, Romany rokrapen, real Gypsy of the old order.""Whatever it is," said the woman, "it's of no use speaking it to me.
If you want to speak to me, you must speak English or Scotch.""Why, they told me as how you were a Gypsy," said I.
"And they told you the truth," said the woman; "I am a Gypsy, and a real one; I am not ashamed of my blood.""If yer were a Gyptian," said I, "yer would be able to speak Gyptian;but yer can't, not a word.""At any rate," said the woman, "I can speak English, which is more than you can. Why, your way of speaking is that of the lowest vagrants of the roads.""Oh, I have two or three ways of speaking English," said I; "and when I speaks to low wagram folks, I speaks in a low wagram manner.""Not very civil," said the woman.
"A pretty Gypsy!" said I; "why, I'll be bound you don't know what a churi is!"The woman gave me a sharp look; but made no reply.
"A pretty queen of the Gypsies!" said I; "why, she doesn't know the meaning of churi!""Doesn't she?" said the woman, evidently nettled; "doesn't she?""Why, do you mean to say that you know the meaning of churi?""Why, of course I do," said the woman.
"Hardly, my good lady," said I; "hardly; a churi to you is merely a churi.""A churi is a knife," said the woman, in a tone of defiance; "a churi is a knife.""Oh, it is," said I; "and yet you tried to persuade me that you had no peculiar language of your own, and only knew English and Scotch:
churi is a word of the language in which I spoke to you at first, Zingarrijib, or Gypsy language; and since you know that word, I make no doubt that you know others, and in fact can speak Gypsy. Come;let us have a little confidential discourse together."The woman stood for some time, as if in reflection, and at length said: "Sir, before having any particular discourse with you, I wish to put a few questions to you, in order to gather from your answers whether it is safe to talk to you on Gypsy matters. You pretend to understand the Gypsy language: if I find you do not, I will hold no further discourse with you; and the sooner you take yourself off the better. If I find you do, I will talk with you as long as you like.
What do you call that?"--and she pointed to the fire.
"Speaking Gyptianly?" said I.
The woman nodded.
"Whoy, I calls that yog."
"Hm," said the woman: "and the dog out there?""Gyptian-loike?" said I.
"Yes."
"Whoy, I calls that a juggal."
"And the hat on your head?"
"Well, I have two words for that: a staury and a stadge.""Stadge," said the woman, "we call it here. Now what's a gun?""There is no Gypsy in England," said I, "can tell you the word for a gun; at least the proper word, which is lost. They have a word--yag-engro--but that is a made-up word signifying a fire-thing.""Then you don't know the word for a gun," said the Gypsy.
"Oh dear me! Yes," said I; "the genuine Gypsy word for a gun is puschca. But I did not pick up that word in England, but in Hungary, where the Gypsies retain their language better than in England:
puschca is the proper word for a gun, and not yag-engro, which may mean a fire-shovel, tongs, poker, or anything connected with fire, quite as well as a gun.""Puschca is the word, sure enough," said the Gypsy. "I thought Ishould have caught you there; and now I have but one more question to ask you, and when I have done so, you may as well go; for I am quite sure you cannot answer it. What is Nokkum?""Nokkum," said I; "nokkum?""Aye," said the Gypsy; "what is Nokkum? Our people here, besides their common name of Romany, have a private name for themselves, which is Nokkum or Nokkums. Why do the children of the Caungri Foros call themselves Nokkums?""Nokkum," said I; "nokkum? The root of nokkum must be nok, which signifieth a nose.""A-h!" said the Gypsy, slowly drawing out the monosyllable, as if in astonishment.
