The forehead was exceedingly lofty, - a rare
thing in a Gypsy; the nose less Roman than Grecian, - fine yet
delicate; the eyes large, overhung with long drooping lashes,
giving them almost a melancholy expression; it was only when the
lashes were elevated that the Gypsy glance was seen, if that can be
called a glance which is a strange stare, like nothing else in this
world. His complexion was a beautiful olive; and his teeth were of
a brilliancy uncommon even amongst these people, who have all fine
teeth. He was dressed in a coarse waggoner's slop, which, however,
was unable to conceal altogether the proportions of his noble and
Herculean figure. He might be about twenty-eight. His companion
and his captain, Gypsy Will, was, I think, fifty when he was
hanged, ten years subsequently (for I never afterwards lost sight
of him), in the front of the jail of Bury St. Edmunds. I have
still present before me his bushy black hair, his black face, and
his big black eyes fixed and staring. His dress consisted of a
loose blue jockey coat, jockey boots and breeches; in his hand was
a huge jockey whip, and on his head (it struck me at the time for
its singularity) a broad-brimmed, high-peaked Andalusian hat, or at
least one very much resembling those generally worn in that
province.
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