There people do not advertise their willingness to read the fates, and only exercise their gifts in that direction as a matter of friendship to certain favored ones. The city and the suburbs are full of people of this kind, who profess to know the gift of prophecy and of miracles, but who do not make their whole living by the exercise of their supernatural powers, depending in part on some popular branch of industry. They differ, however, from their sisters of the country in this regard; whenever they do consent to do a little magic for the accommodation of an anxious inquirer, they are very careful to charge him a round price for it. Many of them combine fortune-telling with hard work, and do their full day’s work of faithful toil at some legitimate employment, and in the evening amuse themselves with witchcraft.
These are chrysalis witches; prophets in embryo; magicians in a state of apprenticeship; they are learning the trade, and as soon as they feel competent to do journey-work, they drop their hard labor, and at once set up for full-fledged witches or conjurors.
Mr. Grommer, the Black Sage of Williamsburgh, and his solid and amiable wife, were in this half-way state when they were visited by the Cash Customer. Their fame had reached his ears by the means of some kind friends who were cognisant of his peculiar investigations at that time, and who told him of the supernatural gifts of this amiable old couple.
Accordingly the Individual, having made exact inquiries as to their local habitation, one fine morning set out in pursuit, and in due time made up the following report. Since that time it is reported that this worthy pair have followed the law of progression hereinbefore hinted at, and having arrived at the fulness of all magical knowledge, have laid aside the whitewash pail and discarded the scrubbing-brush, and given their time entirely to the practice of the Black Art.
The Individual beginneth his discourse thus:—
It is an old saying, that “The Devil is never so black as he is painted.” What may be the precise shade of the complexion of his amiable majesty the Cash Customer has no means of ascertaining to an exact nicety at this present time of writing; but he makes the positive assertion, that some of the Satanic human employees are so black as to need no painting of any description.
Whether or not the ancient “wise men from the East” were swarthy skinned he is not competent to decide; but he is able to prove, by ocular demonstration, to an unbelieving sceptic, that some of the modern “wise men” are particularly “dark-complected.”
Mrs. Grommer, of No. 34 North Second Street, in the suburb of Williamsburgh, is a case in point. The fame of this illustrious ebony lady had gone abroad through the land, and her skill in prophecy had been vouched for by those who professed to have personal knowledge of the truthfulness of her predictions. But an air of mystery surrounded the sable sorceress, and it was declared to be impossible to obtain a knowledge of her exact whereabouts, except by a preliminary visit to a certain mysterious “cave,” the locality of which was accurately described.
A cave! this promised well; no other witches encountered by the Cash Customer, had he found in a cave, or in anything resembling that hollow luxury.
A cave! the very word smacked of diabolism, and had the true flavor of genuine witchcraft. Our overjoyed hero thought of the Witch of Vesuvius in her mountain cavern—of her lank, grey, dead hair; her livid, corpse-like skin; her stony eye; her shrivelled, blue lips; her hollow voice, and her threatening arm, and skinny, menacing forefinger—of the red-eyed fox at her side, the crested serpent at her feet, the mystic lamp above her head, and the statue in the background, triple-headed with skulls of dog, and horse, and boar. Something of this kind he hoped to witness in the present instance, for he argued that any sorceress who lived in a cave must surely be supplied with some more cabalistic instruments with which to work her spells than greasy playing-cards or rusty brass door-keys. At last, then, he had discovered something in modern witchcraft worthy the ancient romance of the name. Triumphant and overjoyed, he prepared for the visit, confident in his ability to witness any spectacle, however terrible, without flinching, and in his courage to pass any ordeal, however fearful. He swallowed no countercharms or protective potions, and did not even take the precaution to sew a horse-shoe in the seat of his pantaloons.