The Individual was received at the door by a short, greasy, dirty man, about forty years of age, who invited him into the front parlor, to wait until the Madame was disengaged. This man, who is an ignorant, half-imbecile person, passes for the husband of the fortune teller, and is known as _Doctor_ Lebond. He is a man of peculiar appearance; the top of his head is perfectly bald, and the fringe of hair about the lower part of it, is twisted into long corkscrew ringlets, that fall low down on his shoulders. He informed the customer that the Madame was then engaged, but he seemed undecided about the exact nature of her present employment. He first said she was “tellin’ the futur for a young gal;” then she was “engaged with a literary man;” then “a dry-goods merchant wanted to find out if his head clerk didn’t drink;” but finally he said that “Madame L. is a eatin’ of her dinner.” After some ingenious drawing-out, the _Doctor_ vouchsafed the subjoined statement of his business prospects. “We seen the time when we hadn’t fifteen minutes a day, on account of young gals a comin’ for to have their fortune told; we used to be busy from mornin’ till ten and ’levin o’clock at night a-tellin’ fortunes an’ a doctorin’—but now, we don’t do so much ’cause the young gals don’t like to come to a boardin’-house where young men can see ’em, ’specially in the evenin’. We’s too public here; the young men a-boardin’ here likes for to have the young gals come, they likes for to see ’em in the parlor, but the young gals won’t come so much, ’cause we’s too public. We’ll have for to get another house on account of business. “I don’t get so much doctorin’ to do as I used to, ’cause we’s too public. I have doctored lots of folks, principally young fellers and young gals, and I can do it right. If you ever get into any trouble you’ll find me and my wife _all right_; you can come to us—we mean to be all right, and to give everybody the worth of their money, and we _is_ all right.” By this time, Madame Lebond had finished her dinner, and was waiting in the back parlor. She is a fat, slovenly-looking woman, forty years old or more, having no teeth, and taking prodigious quantities of snuff, which gives her enunciation some peculiar characteristics. When the Individual first beheld her, she was standing in the middle of the floor, picking her teeth. She requested her visitor to take a seat, and to pay her half-a-dollar, with both of which requests he complied. She then put into his hand the end of a brass tube about an inch in diameter and a foot long, and said: “Give be the tibe of your birth as dear as possible.” This was done, and the following brief dialogue ensued:— “Was you bord id the bording?” “I really don’t remember.” “Do you have beddy dreabs?” “I do not dream much.” “Thed you dod’t have bad dreabs?” “No.” “Thed you was bord id the bording,” by which mysterious word she probably meant, “morning.” She then continued:—