I have already alluded--the wonderful colours of the clouds. Some were
of vivid green; others of the brightest orange; others as black as pitch.
The Gypsy's finger was pointed to a particular part of the sky.

"'What do you see there, brother?'

"'A strange kind of cloud.'

"'What does it look like, brother?'

"'Something like a stream of blood.'

"'That cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.'

"'A bloody fortune!' said I. 'And whom may it betide?'

"'Who knows?' said the Gypsy.

"Down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and cart
to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking
steeds, with postillions in scarlet jackets, and leather skull-caps. Two
forms were conspicuous in it; that of the successful bruiser, and of his
friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance.

"'His!' said the Gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern features wore
a smile of triumph, as, probably recognizing me in the crowd, he nodded
in the direction of where I stood, as the barouche hurried by.

"There went the barouche, dashing through the rain gushes', and in it one
whose boast it was that he was equal to 'either fortune.' Many have