FREDERICK 8. ARNOLD. 87 



in the middle, the violins grouped around. There were 

 about a dozen men short, dark, black-haired, snaky eyed, 

 wearing blue, gold-trimmed uniforms. I knew what 

 they were at once, but having the key to the situation was 

 in no hurry but sat down close to them and listened to 

 their playing, which was good for those who like that 

 kind of music — and I happen to be one of those who do. 

 When they stopped, I lixed the Kapellmeister (the 

 leader) with my eye, and cried ; '■''Ldcho hi, pral, boro 

 IdchoP'' (Very good, brother, verj'- good!) They all 

 looked up and a faint surprise showed in the face of the 

 Kapellmeister which broke into astonished delight and 

 spread round the circle when I said : '■'■Miri Roma 

 cTialior, sarisTian ! Me shorn Roma rai adre acova tem.^'' 

 (My Romany lads, how are you ! I am a Gypsy gentle- 

 man in this country.) We were on good terms and talk- 

 ing together at once. 



For these were Hungarian Gypsies, brought for their 

 music all the way from Vienna, perhaps from Buda Pesth, 

 to Chicago, and delighted and wonder-struck they were — 

 as the Hungarian Gypsies I have seen always are — to find 

 a stranger, thousands of miles off in the West, who 

 spoke the language which not nine people in ten, besides 

 themselves, understood in their own Hungary. '" Why,'"' 

 as the bar-tender of the Cafe Liberty on Houston Street 

 once said to me, " you might go a hundred thousand 

 miles around the earth, sir, and not find one man who 

 could speak that language !" 



And there we sat and talked,' helping out the Gypsy 

 language when I wanted for words, and that was un- 

 fortunately pretty often, with German (which was one of 

 the three languages they spoke, the other beside Gypsy 

 being Hungarian) and they asked me numberless ques- 

 • tions about how I learned the language, and were there 

 Gypsies in America, and did they wear big blue coats 

 with antique coins for buttons as they do in Hungary 



