And he went with her to a lonely house, and she 'hocussed' him with poison till he was heavy with sleep, and his head drooped by her side; and when he was poisoned, the people came and cut his hair off and threw him into prison.
"And one day the people dragged him out of prison to make sport for them.
And as they were making fun of him and teasing him, Samson threw his hands around the great pillars of the prison, and bowed himself in, and all the house fell down with a great noise, and all the poor men were killed and the house broken to small pieces.
"And so he died." "Do you know what the judgment day is, Puro ?" "Avo, rya.

The judgment day is when you _soves alay_ (go in sleep, or dream away) to the boro Duvel." I reflected long on this reply of the untutored Rommany.

I had often thought that the deepest and most beautiful phrase in all Tennyson's poems was that in which the impassioned lover promised his mistress to love her after death, ever on "into the dream beyond." And here I had the same thought as beautifully expressed by an old Gipsy, who, he declared, for two months hadn't seen three nights when he wasn't as drunk as four fiddlers.

And the same might have been said of Carolan, the Irish bard, who lived in poetry and died in whisky.
The soul sleeping or dreaming away to God suggested an inquiry into the Gipsy idea of the nature of spirits.
"You believe in _mullos_ (ghosts), Puro.

Can everybody see them, I wonder ?" "Avo, rya, avo.