told me nothing that my friends might have told her concerning me, but dived at once into the future. My domestic affairs were in a very complicated state at that period, and I had no idea myself how they would end. She saw the whole situation at a glance--described the actors in the scene, the places they lived in, the people by whom they were surrounded, and exactly how the whole business would end, and _did_ end. She foretold the running of the tour, how long it would last, and which of the company would leave before it concluded. She told me that a woman in the company, whom I believed at that time to be attached to me, would prove to be one of my greatest enemies, and be the cause of estrangement between me and one of my nearest relations, and she opened my eyes to that woman's character in a way which forced me afterwards to find out that to which I might have been blind forever. And this information emanated from a dirty, ignorant, old lodging keeper, who had probably never heard of my name until it was thrust before her, and yet told me things that my most intimate and cleverest friends had no power to tell me. After the woman at Accrington I never looked at a card for the purpose of divination until my attention was directed last year to a woman in London who is very clever at the same thing, and a friend asked me to go with her and see what she could tell us. This woman, who is quite of the lower class, and professedly a dressmaker, received us in a bedroom, the door of which was carefully locked. She was an elderly woman and rather intelligent and well educated for her position, but she could adduce no reason whatever for her facility in reading the cards. She told me "it _came_ to her," she didn't know why or how. It "came to her" with a vengeance for me. She rattled off my past, present and future as if she had been reading from an open book, and she mentioned the description of a person (which I completely recognized) so constantly with reference to my future, that I thought I would try her by a question. "Stop a minute," I said, "this person whom you have alluded to so often--have I ever met him?" "Of course you have met him," she replied, "you know him intimately." "I don't recognize the description," I returned, fallaciously. The woman turned round and looked me full in the face. "_You don't recognize him?_" she repeated in an incredulous tone, "then you must be very dull. Well! I'll tell you how to recognize him. Next time you meet a gentleman out walking who raises his hat, and before he shakes hands with you, draws a written or printed paper from his pocket and presents it to you, you can remember my words. _That_ is the man I mean."