Wherein are inscribed all the particulars of a visit to the
“Gipsy Girl,” of No. 207, Third Avenue,
with an allusion to Gin, and other luxuries
dear to the heart of that beautiful
Rover.
CHAPTER XII.
THE GIPSY GIRL.
There is much less affectation of high-flown and lofty-sounding names among the ladies of the black-art mysteries, than might very naturally be expected. Most of them are content with plain “Madame” Smith, or unadorned “Mrs.” Jones, and “The Gipsy Girl” is almost the only exception to this rule that is to be encountered among all the fortune-tellers of the city.
This arises from no poverty of invention on their part, but from a sound conviction that in this case, simplicity is an element of sound policy. There has been no lack of “mysteriously gifted prophetesses,” and of “astonishing star readers;” there have been, I believe, within the last few years, a “Daughter of Saturn,” and a “Sorceress of the Silver Girdle;” and once the “Queen of the Seven Mysteries” condescended to sojourn in Gotham for five weeks, but on the whole it has been found that a more modest title pays better. To be sure, the “Daughter of Saturn” was tried for conspiring with two other persons to swindle an old and wealthy gentleman out of seventeen hundred dollars, and the “Queen of the Seven Mysteries” was dispossessed by a constable for non-payment of rent; and these untoward circumstances may have acted as a “modest quencher” on the then growing disposition to indulge in fantastic and romantic appellations.
At this present time “The Gipsy Girl” enjoys almost a monopoly of this sort of thing, and she is by no means constant to one name, but sometimes announces herself as “The Gipsy Woman,” “The Gipsy Palmist,” and “The Gipsy Wonder,” as her whim changes.
This woman has not been in New York years enough to become complicated in as many rascalities as some of her elder sisters in the mystic arts, but her surroundings are of a nature to indicate that she has not been backward in her American education on these points. She has not been remarkably successful in making money, as a witch; not having been educated among the strumpets and gamblers of the city she lacked that extensive acquaintance on going into business, that had secured for her rivals in trade such immediate success. Her fondness for gin has also proved a serious bar to her rapid advancement, and has given not a few of her customers the idea that she is not so eminently trustworthy as one having the control of the destinies of others should be. In fact, she loves her enemy, the bottle, to that extent, that she has many times permitted her devotion to it to interfere seriously with her business, leading her to disappoint customers. The quality of her sober predictions is about the same as that of others in the same profession, but her intoxicated foretellings are deserving of a chapter to themselves, and they shall have it, for from force of peculiar circumstances, which will be explained hereafter, the Cash Customer made three visits to this celebrated woman. Her first address was 207 3d Avenue, between Eighteenth and Nineteenth Streets.
The Gipsy Girl! How romantically suggestive was this feminine phrase to the fancy of an enthusiastic reporter. Was it then, indeed, permitted that he should know Meg Merrilees in private life? His heart danced at the poetic possibility, and his heels would have extemporized a vigorous hornpipe but that his saltatory ardor was quenched by the depressing sturdiness of cow-hide boots. With the most pleasing anticipations he perused the subjoined advertisement again and again, and looked to the happy future with a joyful hope.
“A Wonder—The Gipsy Girl.—If you wish to know all the secrets of your past and future life, the knowledge of which may save you years of sorrow and care, don’t fail to consult the above-named palmist. Charge 50 cents. The Gipsy has also on hand a secret which will enable any lady or gentleman to win or obtain the affections of the opposite sex. Charge extra. No. 207 3d av., between 18th and 19th sts.”