thirty copies of the book in question were pounced upon, and about the same number of Saint Luke in Basque.  With this spoil these satellites returned in triumph to the gefatura politica, where they divided the copies of the Gypsy volume amongst themselves, selling subsequently the greater number at a large price, the book being in the greatest demand, and thus becoming unintentionally agents of an heretical society.  But every one must live by his trade, say these people, and they lose no opportunity of making their words good, by disposing to the best advantage of any booty which falls into their hands.  As no person cared about the Basque Gospel, it was safely stowed away, with other unmarketable captures, in the warehouses of the office.

The Gypsy Gospels had now been seized, at least as many as were exposed for sale in the despacho.  The corregidor and his friends, however, were of opinion that many more might be obtained by means of a little management.  Fellows, therefore, hangers-on of the police office, were daily dispatched to the shop in all kinds of disguises, inquiring, with great seeming anxiety, for “Gypsy books,” and offering high prices for copies.  They, however, returned to their employers empty-handed.  My Gallegan was on his guard, informing all who made inquiries, that books of no description would be sold at the establishment for the present.  Which was in truth the case, as I had given him particular orders to sell no more under any pretence whatever.

I got no credit, however, for my frank dealing.  The corregidor and his confederates could not persuade themselves but that by some means mysterious and unknown to them, I was daily selling hundreds of these Gypsy books, which were to revolutionize the country, and annihilate the power of the Father of Rome.  A plan was therefore resolved upon, by means of which they hoped to have an opportunity of placing me in a position which would incapacitate me for some time from taking any active measures to circulate the Scriptures, either in Gypsy or in any other language.

It was on the morning of the first of May, if I forget not, that an unknown individual made his appearance in my apartment as I was seated at breakfast; he was a mean-looking fellow, about the middle stature, with a countenance on which knave was written in legible characters.  The hostess ushered him in, and then withdrew.  I did not like the appearance of my visitor, but assuming some degree of courtesy, I requested him to sit down, and demanded his business.  “I come from