“I’d have two nags,” said another; “one in the shafts and the other to trace.”
And so on ad nauseam till my brains were all in a whirl, and at night I dreamt I was a teetotum, and people were playing with me. Perhaps they were.
A friend to whom I appealed one day in my anguish cut the Gordian knot.
“You’ve got a nut on you?” he remarked (he meant my head). “Well,” he said, “make use of that.”
I took his advice.
Chapter Three.
First Experiences of Gipsy Life—The Trial Trip—A ThunderStorm on Maidenhead Thicket.
“Now rings the woodland loud and long,
The distance takes a lovelier hue,
And drown’d in yonder living blue
The lark becomes a sightless song.
“Now dance the lights on lawn and lea,
The flocks are whiter down the vale,
And milkier every milky sail,
On winding stream or distant sea.”
Tennyson.