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An' when she loured the grai, it penned laki, "Mukk mandy jal an' I'll rikker tute to a kushto-dick barvelo rye who kaums a pirreny." So she lelled the kushto tauno rye, an' she jivved with lester kushto yeck cooricus; but pash dovo he pookered her to jal avree, he didn't kaum her kekoomi. "Sa a wafro mush is tute," ruvved the rakli, "to bitcher mandy avree!
"But can you make it out? Prove it!" 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.
Witness the following, which came forth one day from a Gipsy, in my presence, as an entirely voluntary utterance. He meant it for something like poetry it certainly was suggested by nothing, and as fast as he spoke I wrote it down: "It's kushto in tattoben for the Rommany chals. Then they can jal langs the drum, and hatch their tan acai and odoi pre the tem.
True like my father. Kushto like my dad. Good like my father. This is a true Gipsy proverb, used as a strongly marked indication of approbation or belief. Kushto bak. Good luck!
The reader will find in another chapter a curious and beautiful Gipsy custom recorded, that of burning an ash fire on Christmas-day, in honour of our Saviour, because He was born and lived like a Gipsy; and one day I was startled by bearing a Rom say "Miduvel hatch for mandy an' kair me kushto." My God stand up for me and make me well.
"Kushto," penned the Rommany chal, "for cammoben to tute, rya, I'll jal avree!" Once a policeman chased a Gipsy, and the Gipsy ran into the river, that was full of great pieces of floating ice, and there he stood up to his neck with only his head out. "Come out," cried a gentleman that pitied the poor man, "and we'll let you go!" "No," said the Gipsy; "I won't move."
"That is a fino gudlo a fine story; and all of it about an ash tree. Can you tell me anything about the surrelo rukk the strong tree the oak?" "Only what I've often heard our people say about its life." "And what is that?" "Dui hundred besh a hatchin, dui hundred besh nasherin his chuckko, dui hundred besh 'pre he mullers, and then he nashers sar his ratt and he's kekoomi kushto."
It struck me that he was indirectly trying to pump me, for he said, "You don't talk like none of us. I reckon you've been on the road." Moreover, when we met he had saluted me thus, "Sarishan Pala. Kushto Bak," and this salutation happens to be Rommany. As we pursued our talk, he inquired, "You rakker Rommanis?"
"Carmen was and José wasn't. She danced herself into his heart." Chaldea's eyes flashed, and she made a hasty sign to attract the happy omen of his saying to herself. "Kushto bak," cried Chaldea, using the gypsy for good luck. "And to me, to me," she clapped her hand. "Hark, my golden rye, and watch me dance your love into my life."
Let us suppose that I am asking some kushto Rommany chal for a version of AEsop's fable of the youth and the cat. He is sitting comfortably by the fire, and good ale has put him into a story-telling humour. I begin "Now then, tell me this adree Rommanis, in Gipsy Once upon a time there was a young man who had a cat." Gipsy. "Yeckorus 'pre yeck cheirus a raklo lelled a matchka"
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