“Don't cry, madam, don't cry.” “It was to know, sir, if I could ever think of--of--you must know, sir, we had no family, and I would not wish that the property should die with me; to know if--if you think I could venture to marry again?” “This,” replied the conjurer, “is a matter of unusual importance and difficulty. In the first place you must hand me a guinea--that is my fee for cases of this kind.” The money was immediately paid, and the conjurer proceeded: “I said it was a case of great difficulty, and so it is, but--” “I forgot to mention, sir, that when I went out to get the prayer-book, I found Charley Mulvany in the next room, and he said he had one in his pocket; so that the truth, sir, is, I--I took the oath upon a book of ballads. Now,” she proceeded, “I have strong reasons for marrying Charley Mulvany; and I wish to know if I can do so without losing the property.” “Make your mind easy on that point,” replied the conjurer; “you swore never to put a ring on man, but you did not swear that a man would never put a ring on you. Go home,” he continued, “and if you be advised by me, you will marry Charley Mulvany without loss of time.” A man rather advanced in years next came in, and taking his seat, wiped his face and gave a deep groan. “Well, my friend,” said the conjurer, “in what way can I serve you?” “God knows it's hard to tell that,” he replied--“but I'm troubled.” “What troubles you?” “It's a quare world, sir, altogether.” “There are many strange things in it certainly.” “That's truth, sir; but the saison's favorable, thank God, and there's every prospect of a fine spring for puttin' down the crops.” “You are a farmer, then; but why should you feel troubled about what you call a fine season for putting down the crops?” The man moved uneasily upon his chair, and seemed at a loss how to proceed; the conjurer looked at him, and waited for a little that he might allow him sufficient time to disclose his difficulties. “There are a great many troubles in this life, sir, especially in married families.” “There is no doubt of that, my friend,” replied the conjurer. “No, sir, there is not. I am not aisy in my mind, somehow.” “Hundreds of thousands are so, as well as you,” replied the other. “I would be glad to see the man who has not something to trouble him; but will you allow me to ask you what it is that troubles you?” “I took her, sir, widout a shift to her back, and a betther husband never breathed the breath of life than I have been to her;” and then he paused, and pulling out his handkerchief, shed bitter tears. “I would love her still, if I could, sir; but, then, the thing's impossible.” “O, yes,” said the conjurer; “I see you are jealous of her; but will you state upon what grounds?” “Well, sir, I think I have good grounds for it.” “What description of a woman is your wife, and what age is she?” “Why, sir, she's about my own age. She was once handsome enough--indeed, very handsome when I married her.”