The Witches of New York Part 11

The room of conjuration was a closet, dark and dirty, and was lighted by one tallow candle, stuck in a Scotch ale bottle. A number of shabby dresses, bony petticoats, and other mysterious articles of women's gear, hung upon the walls; two weak-kneed chairs, a tattered bit of carpet upon about two feet square of the floor, and a little table covered with a greasy oilcloth, composed the furniture of the mystic cell. The cabalistic paraphernalia was limited, there being nothing but a dirty pack of double-headed cards, a small pasteboard box with some sc.r.a.ps of paper in it, and two kinds of powder in little bottles, like hair-oil pots.

Madame Lent is a woman of medium height, about thirty-five years of age, with light-grey eyes, false teeth, a head nearly bald, and hair, what there is of it, of a bright red. Her manner is hurried and confused, and she has a trick of drawing her upper lip disagreeably up under the end of her nose, which l.a.b.i.al distortion she doubtless intends for a smile.

She was robed in a bright-colored plaid dress, a dirty lace collar, and a coa.r.s.e woollen shawl over her shoulders. Motioning her visitor to one chair, she instantly seated herself in the other, and, without demanding pay in advance, commenced operations. She handed the cards to be cut, and then laying them out in their piles, uttered the following sentences:

"I see that your fortune has been and is quite a curious one.

Your cards run rather mixed up, you have been very much worried in your head, you were born under two planets, which means that you have seen a great deal of trouble in your younger days, but you are now getting over it and your cards run to better luck, but it is rather mixed up, your cards run to a lady, she is light-haired and blue-eyed, but she is jealous of you, for sometimes you treat her more kinder and sometimes more harsher, and just now she is in trouble and very much mixed up about you.

There is a man of black hair and eyes, a dark-_complected_ man who pretends to be your friend and is very fair to your face, but you must beware of him, for he is your secret enemy and will do you an injury if he can; he is trying to get the lady, but I don't think he'll do it, though I don't know, for the thing is so much mixed up-he has deceived you, and the lady has deceived you, they have both deceived you, but now they have got mixed up, and she turns from him with scorn, and seems to like you the best-I don't exactly see how it all is, for it seems rather mixed up like-you must persevere, you must coax her more; you can coax her to do anything, but you can't drive her any more than you can drive that wall-always treat her more kinder and never more harsher, and she will soon be yours entirely-beware of the dark-complected man; you must not talk so much and be so open in your mind, and above all don't talk so much to the dark-complected man, for he seems to worry you, and your affairs and his are all mixed up like."

Here her auditor expressed a desire to know something definite and certain about his future wife, whereupon the red-haired prophetess shuffled the cards again with the following result:

"You will have but one more wife. She will be good and true, and will not be mixed up with any dark-complected man. She will be rich and you will be rich, for your business cards run very smooth, but your marriage cards do not run very close to you, and you will not be married for six or eight months; you will have three children; you will see your future wife within nine hours, nine days, or nine weeks; do not blame me if it runs into the tens, but I tell you it will fall within the nines. Another man is trying to get her away from you, he is a light-complected man, he has had some influence over her, but she now turns from him with disdain, and she will be yours and yours only-things are a little worried and mixed up now, but she will be yours and yours only, the light-complected man can't hurt you. I have something that I can give you that will make her love you tender and true; it will force her to do it and she won't have no power to help herself, but you can do with her just what you please; I charge extra for that."

Here was a chance to procure a love-philtre at a reasonable rate, and unless the dark woman kept that article ready made and done up in packages to suit customers, he could observe the terrible ceremonies with which it was prepared, listen to the spells and incantations with an attent eye, and take mental notes of all the mighty magic. The opportunity was too good to be lost, and he at once signified his desire to try a little of the extra witchcraft, and his willingness to draw on his purse for the requisite amount of ready cash to purchase this gratification of a laudable curiosity.

Madame Lent now a.s.sumed an air of the most intense gravity, and shook into a very dirty bit of paper a little white powder from one of the pomatum pots, and a corresponding quant.i.ty of grayish powder from pot No. 2, and stirred them carefully together with the tip of her finger. When she had mixed them to her liking she folded the diabolical compound in a small paper. Then she prepared another mixture in the same manner, and made a pretence of adding another ingredient from a little pasteboard box, which probably hadn't had anything in it for a month. Folding this also in a paper she presented them both to her interested guest, with these directions:

"You must shake some of the first powder on your true-love's head, or neck, or arms, if you can, but if you can't manage this, put it on her dress-the other powder you must sprinkle about your room when you go to bed to-night-this will draw her to you, and she will love you and you alone and can't help herself; this will surely operate, if it don't, come and tell me."

One more cabalistic performance and the hocus-pocus was ended.

She desired her customer to give her the first letter of his true love's name. He, unabashed by the unexpected demand, with great presence of mind promptly invented a sweetheart on the spot, and extemporized a name for her before the question was repeated.

Then the mysterious Madame required his own initial, which, being obtained, she wrote the two on slips of paper with some mystic figures appended, in manner following. E., 17; M., 24. Then she shiveringly whispered:

"You must do as I told you with the powders before eleven o'clock to-night, for between the hours of eleven and twelve I shall boil your name and hers in herbs which will draw her to you, and she can't help herself but will be tender and true, and will be yours and yours only. When she is drawed to you then you must marry her."

The anxious inquirer promised obedience, and agreed to give the powders as per prescription, before the midnight cookery should commence, paid his dollar (fifty cents for the consultation and a like sum for the love-powders), and made his exit with a comprehensive bow, which included the Madame, the bony petticoats, the beer-bottle, and the fast-vanishing remains of the single tallow-candle in one reverential farewell.

CHAPTER XII.

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 t.i.tle 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 circ.u.mstances 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 st.u.r.diness of cow-hide boots. With the most pleasing antic.i.p.ations he perused the subjoined advertis.e.m.e.nt 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 s.e.x. Charge extra. No. 207 3d av., between 18th and 19th sts."

How the knowledge of all the secrets of his past life was to save him years of sorrow and care at this late day he could not exactly comprehend, and was willing to pay fifty cents for the information. And then wasn't it worth half a dollar to see a live gipsy? Of course it was.

Kettles, camp-fires, white tents under green trees, indigenous brown babies and exotic white ones, with a panorama of empty cradles and mourning mothers in the distance, moonlight nights, midnight foraging excursions, expeditions against impertinent game-keepers, demonstrations against hen-roosts-successful by masterly generalship and pure strategic science-and the midnight forest cookery of contraband game, surrept.i.tious pigs and clandestine chickens-were among the romantic ideas of a delightful vagabond gipsy life that at once suggested themselves to the mind of the Cash Customer. He did not really expect to find the Third-Avenue gipsy camped out under a bed-quilt tent in the lee of the house, or cooking her dinner in an iron pot over an out-door fire in the back yard, but he had a vague undefined hope that there would be some visible indications of gipsy life, if it was nothing more than the p.a.w.n-tickets for stolen spoons.

He thought to find at least one or two beautiful babies knocking about, decorated with coral necklaces and golden clasps, suggestive of rich parents and better days, and had firmly resolved to send the little innocents to the alms-house by way of improving their condition. Full of these romantic notions, the reporter started on his philanthropic mission, taking the preliminary precaution of leaving at home his watch and pocket-book, and carrying with him only small change enough to pay the advertised charges.

In one of those three-story brick houses so abounding in this city, which seem to have been built by the mile and cut off in slices to suit purchasers, in the Third Avenue above Eighteenth Street, dwelt at that time the gay Bohemian. The building in which she lived, though three stories in height, is very short between joints, which style of architecture makes all the rooms low and squat, as if somebody had shut the house into itself like a telescope, and had never pulled it out again.

Out of the chimney, which was the little end of the telescope, issued a sickly smoke; and through a door in the lower story, which was the big end thereof, was the stranger admitted by a little girl. This girl was, probably, a pure article of gipsy herself originally, but had been so much adulterated by partial civilization that she combed her hair daily and submitted to shoes and stockings without a murmur. Ragged indeed was this reclaimed wanderer; saucy and dirty-faced was this sprouting young maiden, but she was sharp-witted, and scented money as quickly as if she had been the oldest hag of her tribe; so she asked her customer to walk up stairs, which he did. She herself went up stairs with a skip and a whirl, showed her visitor into the grand reception room with a gyrating flourish, and disappeared in a "courtesy" of so many complex and dizzy rotations that she seemed to the eyes of the bewildered traveller to evaporate in a red flannel mist. As soon as she had spun herself out of sight he recovered his presence of mind and looked about him.

The romantic gipsy who sojourned here had tried to furnish her rooms like civilized people, doubtless out of respect to her many patrons. A thread-bare carpet was under foot; a little parlor stove with a little fire in it was standing on a little piece of zinc, and did its little utmost to heat the room; an uncomfortable looking sofa covered with shabby and faded red damask graced one side of the apartment, and a lounge, of curtailed dimensions, partially covered with shreds of turkey red calico, adorned another side.

This latter article of furniture, with its tattered cover, through which suspicious bits of curled hair peeped out, and wide crevices in its rickety frame were plainly visible, looked much too suggestive of c.o.c.kroaches and other insect delicacies of the season to be an inviting place of repose.

Three chairs were dispersed throughout the room, on one of which the reporter bestowed himself, and the rest of the furniture consisted of a table, so exceedingly shaky and sensitive in the joints that it might have been the grim skeleton of some former table, loosely hung together with unseen wires; and a cheap looking-gla.s.s that had suffered so serious a comminuted fracture as to be past all surgery-this was all except some little plaster images of saints, strangers to the Cash Customer, and a black rosary, which article would seem to show that efforts had been put forth to Christianize this nut-brown gipsy maid.

A clinking of gla.s.ses was heard in the adjoining apartment, then the door was opened with an independent flirt, and the gay Bohemian appeared on the scene.

If it were desired to fancy visions of enchanting loveliness it would be necessary to insert therein other ingredients than the gipsy girl of the Third Avenue; alone she would be insufficient; too much would be left to the imagination; and in any event the illusion would be too great to last long.

She is of medium height, her eyes are brown and bright, and her hands are very large and red. She has no hair, but wears a scratch red wig, which gives her head a utilitarian character.

Her face is deeply pitted with the small-pox, more than pitted-gullied, scarred, and seamed, as though some jealous rival had been trying to plough her complexion under; little short light hairs are thinly scattered on her cheek bones and upper lip, and in the shadows of the little ridges that disease had left, irresistibly compelling the mind to make an absurd comparison of her face with a sterile field, and imagine that at some past day it had been spaded up to plant a beard, which had only grown in scanty patches, here and there. Her nails were h.o.r.n.y and ill-shaped, and underneath them and at their roots were large deposits of dirt and other fertilizing compounds, under the stimulating influence of which they had grown lank and long. Her attire was a sort of cross between the picturesque wildness of the gipsy, and the more civilized and unbecoming dress of Third Avenue Christians.

She was apparelled, princ.i.p.ally, in a red flannel jacket, and a check handkerchief, which was pa.s.sed under her chin and tied on the top of her wig, where the knot looked like a blue b.u.t.terfly.

There was a gown, but a series of subsoiling experiments would have been necessary to determine the material and texture; the surface was palpably dirt. Accompanying her there was a strong smell of gin, and from the odor of the liquor the visitor judged that it was a very poor article.

This gay old gipsy drew a chair to the table, and sat down, not in a graceful and composed manner, but more as if she had been dumped from a cart. She soon partially recovered herself, and straightened up slightly from the heap into which she had collapsed, and, turning her head away from her customer, she elaborately remarked: "Fifty cents and your left 'and."

The Individual made a careful search for his small change, and fished out the exact amount which he promptly paid over.

This delightful gipsy then took his left hand and looked at it for a minute in an imbecile kind of way, as if she didn't know exactly what to do with it, and was undecided whether it was to be made into soup, or she was to drink it immediately with warm water and a little sugar. This last impression evidently prevailed, for she tried to pour it into her ap.r.o.n, and only recovered from her delusion when the fingers tangled themselves up in the strings. Then a glimmering of the true state of the case seemed to dawn upon her, and she began to have a dim idea that she was expected to say something.

Now the roving gipsy was not by any means intoxicated at this time; that is to say, she may have been partaking of gin, or gin and water, or may have been sucking sugar that had gin on it, or she may have been taking a little gin and peppermint for a stomach-ache, or she may have been bathing her head in gin, or have been otherwise making use of that potent remedy as a medicine, but she was by no means a subject for official interference in case she had wandered into the street, but she was, to tell the truth, not in her most clear-headed condition; although probably she did not see more than one Cash Customer sitting solemnly before her, still that one was quite as many as she could well manage at that time.

After the signal failure of her little demonstration on the hand of her guest, she, by a strong effort, seemed to concentrate her faculties, and after several trials she roused herself and spoke as follows, emphasizing the short words with spiteful vindictiveness, and paying the most particular attention to the improper aspiration of the h's.

"You _are_ a person as _has_ seen a great deal _of_ dif-"

The gay Bohemian here evidently desired to say "difficulty," but the word was a sad stumbling-block, a four-syllable rock ahead which was too much for her powers in her then exhausted state of mind; she charged on the unfortunate word boldly, however, and tried to carry it by storm, but each time was repulsed with great loss of breath-"a great deal of dif-dif-dif-diffle"-it was no use, so she tried back and began again.