harm could arise in speaking of it at that time.—Well, Sir, says the lady, since I find you do know more than I imagined, I hope you are a man of honour, and at the same time put a guinea into the doctor’s hand.—The doctor assured the ladies they might rely upon on his secrecy, and waited upon them down a private pair of stairs which led into a street that lay behind the house. The first trial of my genius’s knowledge of the influence of the stars, continued Sable, succeeded to admiration.—White here desired to know what book it was the doctor extracted his knowledge from.—Sable replied, it was a common place book in which his owner entered down his anecdotes, and which he was every day encreasing, being employed all day in going from place to place where he could best gain intelligence—you will, no doubt, wonder, says Sable, how he could come by the knowledge of the lady’s secret intention, that, adds Sable, he guessed—which indeed from these ladies known character and disposition was no difficult matter to do; for he knew who the ladies were perfectly well, and, I assure you, they were both people of great distinction. The next remarkable person, continued Sable, who was desirous of consulting the stars, was an officer in the guards, who on his entrance told the doctor he had heard he was acquainted with things _above_ and _below_ stairs.—You understand me—continues he, and so let me have five shillings worth of information.—From which quarter, Sir, says the doctor—which quarter, replies the familiar gentleman,—why faith, adds he, I believe it is from _below stairs_.—The doctor then desired to know the day of his nativity, and that he would propose his question,—why you must know, says the gay spark, that I have a d—’d inclination to lie with the wife of a particular friend of mine, but I want to know whether it will be attended with any bad consequences.—I mean, continues he, whether I should be obliged to fight in this case or not? for though I would not have you think me a coward, yet I should not chuse to draw my sword upon my friend.—The doctor, after looking over his book, and making a number of hieroglyphicks as usual, told him, that though the husband would know his dishonour, yet he might be assured no bad consequences would ensue to him, for that it would only _make his friend unhappy during his life_; the son of Mars, continued Sable, was extremely well satisfyed with this answer, and departed, in all probability, to confer upon his friend this new mark of his esteem.