Of Bettesworth's further ramblings, besides other details, the following is probably the fullest account that will ever be obtained. Its incoherencies are partly my fault; for not knowing at this time how he had travelled, nor yet expecting a kind of autobiography from the old man, I was trying to make him tell of other matters, which proved irrelevant to his subject, yet cannot well be extricated now from the gossip that they interrupted.

I had been reading George Borrow's “Zincali” when it occurred to me that some of his observations might be within Bettesworth's experience too; for Bettesworth has seen more than a little of gypsies and travelling folk. I therefore watched for a chance of leading the talk round to that subject.

At length my opportunity seemed to come. A wedding in the village was being celebrated by a most wanton ding-donging of the church bells. I remarked on the wastefulness of spending money on mere noise, and on so much of it; but Bettesworth explained that the bridegroom was one of the village bell-ringers. And, he said, “The ringers always doos like that, if there's e'er a one of 'em 'appens to git married. They was all down about he's 'ome, I see, when I come up by.”

“Yes, that explains it. Still, some people will spend, without that excuse, at a wedding.”