This phrase is a particularly comprehensive one; the “sporting man” is a gambler by profession, and therefore a swindler by necessity, for an “honest gambler” would fill a niche in the scale of created beings that has never yet been occupied; in addition to this, nearly every sporting man is a thief whenever opportunity offers. They probably would not pick a sober man’s pocket, or knock him down at night and take his watch and money, for the risk of detection would be too great; but they are kept from downright stealing by no excess of virtue. These remarks apply to the “sporting men,” by profession—to those plausible gallows-birds who have no other ostensible means of getting a living. There are many men who sometimes spend an hour or two at a faro table, or who occasionally pass an evening in gambling at some other game, who do all fairly, and are above all suspicion of foul play; these persons are of course plundered by sharpers who surround them, and are called “good fellows” because they submit to their losses without grumbling. The “sporting men” all have mistresses, on whom they sometimes rely for funds whenever an “unlucky hit,” or a “bad streak of luck,” has run their own purses low. It is not part of the present purpose of this book to give particulars as to who and what their mistresses are, further than to state that at least one or two of the “Witches” described herein, officiate in that capacity. It is true, that the most of them are not of a style to tempt the lust of any man, but there are certain exceptions to the general rule, and in one or two instances the “Individual” found the fortune-teller to be comely and pleasant to the eye. As these women generally have plenty of money, they are very eligible partners for gamblers, who are liable to as many reverses as ever Mr. Micawber encountered, and who, when once down, might remain perpetually floored, did not some kind friend set them on their financial feet again. And this is one of the duties of the monied mistress. When the “sporting man” is in funds, no one is more recklessly extravagant than he, and no one cuts a greater dash than his “ladye-love,” if he chooses so to do; but when the cards run cross, and the purse is empty, it devolves upon her to furnish the capital to start in the world again. The fact is well known to those who have taken the trouble to inquire into the subject, that several of the more fashionable fortune-tellers of the city sustain this sort of illicit relation to certain “sporting men,” whose faces a man may see, perhaps, half a dozen times in the course of a lounge up and down Broadway of a pleasant afternoon. Madame Clifton is, on the whole, a comely woman, and does a good business, but of course no sane person will think of applying these remarks personally to that respected matron.