The increase of population, and the growth of culture all over Europe, are their worst enemies. Their forests are cut down, their heaths inclosed, the houses are pushed right into their commons; and the easy and remunerative belief in their secret arts is waning more and more. It is doubtful, indeed, whether they will, as a separate race, survive many more centuries in Europe. Their numbers at this moment are stated so very differently, that we would fain caution the reader apainst an implicit belief in the following figures, which we extract from the comparatively most reliable authorities: in Hungary, 140,000; in Transylvania and the principalities, 162,000; Spain, 40.000: England and Scotland, 18,000 (their chief families in these countries being the royal Lees, the Stanley's, Coopers, Hernes, Smiths, Lovells, etc.); Poland, 2,000; Russia, 10,000; Germany, France, and Italy, 40,000; Norway, 1500. Althogether, including those in Turkey and in Asia and Africa (their sojourn in Mexico is questionable), they are computed at about five millions (Rienzi). A small portion only of these occupies as a body fixed habitations in Hungary- and Transylvania, where they are agriculturists and goldwashers; and in the principalities, where they live in a kind of serfdom, and are divided into four different classes—Rudari or Aurari (old-seekers), lirsari (bear leaders), Lingurari (manufacturers of and dealers in wooden spoons. mouse-traps, etc.):
and Laiessi (masons, smiths, tinkers, etc.). All the rest lead a roaming life, live in kennels and under tents from one end of the year to the other, gaining their scanty livelihood, like their forefathers, as best they can, fearing and detesting nothing so much as a fixed and continuous occupation, which would take. them away from "their free mountains, their plains and woods, the sun, the stars, and the winds." The following is a specimen of their language in the form of a short improvises' stanza: Poraquel luehipen abajo Abillela an baliehor6, Abillela 5goli goli, Ustilame Calor6.
There runs a swine down yonder hill, As fast as e'er he ean.
And as he runs, he crieth still: Come steal me, gypsy man.