Summary

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 20: Some Secrets of Gipsy Life (1881)

I should like to have had another hour of the society of my interesting friends, but at that moment there came trooping a dozen or so of another tribe who had just broken up their encampment at Peckham, and so, wishing them a prosperous summer, I bade them good-bye, casting an encouraging glance, as I came away, on the youth who was still ruefully on his knees before the bit of stick and the hollowed clay, enjoining gentlemen's sons to try their hands, and never say die.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 20: Some Secrets of Gipsy Life (1881)

At all events, it somehow happens that early winter is bad for the fortune-telling trade.
It was at Lock's-Fields that I recently scraped acquaintance with an interesting family of gipsies, thirty-three in number, including grandfather and grandmother and great-grandmother: and the old lady - eighty-nine last birthday, and with a face as hard looking and as wrinkled, though many shades darker, than a walnut - was as eager to "be off and get a sniff at the wholesome green leaves and the daisies" as the youngest of her tawny kindred.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 20: Some Secrets of Gipsy Life (1881)

But one of the oddest bits of information I picked up at the Lock's Fields encampment was, that, simmering in knavery as gipsies are, from the time when they are old enough to lisp lies to the gay company on a racecourse, until they arrive at the dead ripe age of the infatuated old lady who took the brass knockers to bed with her, they still believe, or seriously affect to believe, in the fortune-telling powers of their own women.
Source: Wikisource

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