The Witches of New York Part 14

Here he cut the cards carefully, and continued:

"There's trouble 'bout dat article, my son, can't help it, must tell you-but you'll get the article, but you'll have disappointment. Whenever you see dat card you may know there's disappointment comin'-dat card is always disappointment-can't help it, my son, must tell you." Here he exhibited the nine of spades, to the malignant influence of which he attributed the future woes of his hearer.

"When you go home look in your bed between the mattresses and see if the article is there, for mebbe she'll put it back-if it aint there you must go to her and 'cuse her of it, 'cause it's in the house and she's got it-can't help it, my son, must tell you."

It is perhaps needless to say that the customer had met with no loss of property, and that all this was entirely gratuitous on the part of Mr. Grommer. Having, however, settled the matter to his satisfaction, that gentleman turned his attention to other things, and in the intervals of repeated shufflings and cuttings of the cards he said:

"Dere is a journey for you soon-and dis journey is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you-but dere is a little disappointment first-can't help it, my son, must tell-here you can see for yourself," and out came the malicious nine of spades again. "You will get money from beyond sea, my son-lots of money, lots of money, my son-here it is, you can see for yourself," and he exhibited the cheerful faces of the eight, nine, and ten of diamonds. "You will have disappointment before you get this money," and up came the hateful visage of the nine of spades once more. "You was born under a good star, my son-under a morning star-you was born under the planet Jupiter, my son, at 28 minutes past four in the morning-lucky star, my son, very lucky star. You are going to make a great change in your business, my son, which will be good; you will always be successful in business, but I think there is a little disappointment first; can't help it, must tell you." Here the listener looked for the nine of spades again, but it didn't come. "After a little while you turns your back on trouble; here, you can see for yourself-see, this is you."

The king of clubs was the Individual at that instant, and the troubles upon which he turned his back are, as nearly as he can remember, the knave of clubs, the nine of spades, and the deuce of diamonds.

The sage went on. "I'm comin' now to your marriage. You'se goin'

to be married, but you'll have some disappointment first-can't help it, my son, must tell you. You see, here is a dark-complected lady that you like, and she has a heart for you, but her father don't like you-he prefers a young man of lighter complexion-see, here you all are, my son. This is you," and he showed the king of clubs-"and this is her." The "her" of whom he spoke so irreverently, was the queen of clubs. "This is the heart she has for you," and he exhibited the seven of that amorous suit. "This is her father"-the obstinate and cruel "parient" here displayed, was the king of spades-"and dis yer is de young man her father likes,"

and he placed before the eyes of the customer a hated rival in the shape of the knave of diamonds. "You see how it is, my son, dere is trouble between you-can't help it. You may possibly marry de dark-complected lady yet, but don't you do it, my son, don't you do it-now mind I tell you, don't you do it-she is not the lady for you-can't help it, must tell you; if you marry dat lady you will be sorry dat you ever tie de knot. See, here is the knot," and he showed the ace of diamonds. "See, this is the lady you ought to marry," and he produced the queen of diamonds; "and she will be your second wife if you do marry de dark-complected lady, but you'd better marry her first if you can get her, and let de dark-complected lady go for ebber; dat's so, my son, now mind I tell you."

He condescended no more, and the Cash Customer disbursed his dollar and departed, all the grandchildren gathering on the bank to give him three cheers as a parting salute.

CHAPTER XV.

How the "Individual" calls on Madame Clifton, of No. 185 Orchard Street, and how that amiable and gifted "Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter," prophesies his speedy death and destruction, together with all about the "Chinese Ruling Planet Charm."

CHAPTER XV.

MADAME CLIFTON, 185 ORCHARD STREET.

Perhaps there is no cla.s.s of men brought constantly and prominently before the public eye, that is so great a puzzle to that public, as the cla.s.s popularly denominated "sporting men."

There is not a corner on Broadway where they do not congregate; there is not a theatre where they do not abound, and there is not a concert-room that does not overrun with them. There is a uniformity in their appearance that makes them easily recognised, for they all affect the ultra stylish in costume, even to the extreme of light kid gloves in the street; they all have the crisp moustache, the smooth-shaven cheeks, and the same keen, ever-watchful eye, constantly on the look-out for a "customer,"

that respectable word meaning, in their slang, a person to be victimized and swindled. Every lady who walks the street has to run the gauntlet of their insolent glances, and not unfrequently to hear their vulgar and offensive criticisms on her personal appearance; and every gentleman whose business calls him into Broadway of a pleasant day, has seen these persons grouped on the corner leisurely surveying the pa.s.sers-by, or gathered into a little knot before some favorite rum-shop, discussing what is, to them, the absorbing topic of the day-probably the "good strike"

Blobbsby made, "fighting the tiger," the night before; the "heavy run" a favorite billiard-player made on a certain occasion, or the respective chances of success of the two distinguished gentlemen who may chance at that time to be in training with a view of battering each other's heads until one concedes his claim to the brutal "honors" of the prize ring.

No gentlemen of fashion and fortune are more expensively dressed than these men; no cla.s.s of people wear more finely st.i.tched and embroidered linen, more costly broadcloth, more showy golden ornaments, or more brilliant diamonds; but for all, the man is yet to be found who has ever seen one of them put his hand or his brain to one single hour's honest work. Unsophisticated persons are often puzzled to account for the apparently irreconcilable circ.u.mstances of no work, and plenty of money, and in their endeavors to invent a plausible hypothesis on the basis of honesty, must ever be bewildered. The city man knows them at a glance to be "sporting men."

This phrase is a particularly comprehensive one; the "sporting man" is a gambler by profession, and therefore a swindler by necessity, for an "honest gambler" would fill a niche in the scale of created beings that has never yet been occupied; in addition to this, nearly every sporting man is a thief whenever opportunity offers. They probably would not pick a sober man's pocket, or knock him down at night and take his watch and money, for the risk of detection would be too great; but they are kept from downright stealing by no excess of virtue.

These remarks apply to the "sporting men," by profession-to those plausible gallows-birds who have no other ostensible means of getting a living. There are many men who sometimes spend an hour or two at a faro table, or who occasionally pa.s.s an evening in gambling at some other game, who do all fairly, and are above all suspicion of foul play; these persons are of course plundered by sharpers who surround them, and are called "good fellows" because they submit to their losses without grumbling.

The "sporting men" all have mistresses, on whom they sometimes rely for funds whenever an "unlucky hit," or a "bad streak of luck," has run their own purses low.

It is not part of the present purpose of this book to give particulars as to who and what their mistresses are, further than to state that at least one or two of the "Witches" described herein, officiate in that capacity. It is true, that the most of them are not of a style to tempt the l.u.s.t of any man, but there are certain exceptions to the general rule, and in one or two instances the "Individual" found the fortune-teller to be comely and pleasant to the eye. As these women generally have plenty of money, they are very eligible partners for gamblers, who are liable to as many reverses as ever Mr. Micawber encountered, and who, when once down, might remain perpetually floored, did not some kind friend set them on their financial feet again.

And this is one of the duties of the monied mistress. When the "sporting man" is in funds, no one is more recklessly extravagant than he, and no one cuts a greater dash than his "ladye-love," if he chooses so to do; but when the cards run cross, and the purse is empty, it devolves upon her to furnish the capital to start in the world again.

The fact is well known to those who have taken the trouble to inquire into the subject, that several of the more fashionable fortune-tellers of the city sustain this sort of illicit relation to certain "sporting men," whose faces a man may see, perhaps, half a dozen times in the course of a lounge up and down Broadway of a pleasant afternoon.

Madame Clifton is, on the whole, a comely woman, and does a good business, but of course no sane person will think of applying these remarks personally to that respected matron.

The "Individual" paid a lengthened visit to Madame Clifton, and his remarks are recorded below. Because he met a sleek, close-shaved, finely moustached gentleman coming away from the door, he was of course not justified in believing that the said gentleman belonged to the establishment. Of course not.

The female professors of the black art hitherto visited by the Cash Customer, had not impressed him with a profound belief in their supernatural powers; he was "anxious," and was "awakened to inquiry," but he still had doubts, and there was great danger of his backsliding if there wasn't something immediately done for him.

He had been greatly disappointed by the absence from the domiciles of these good ladies of all the traditional necromantic implements and tools. His disposition to adhere to the modern witch-faith would have been greatly strengthened by the sight of a skull and cross-bones; a tame snake, or a little devil in a bottle, would have fixed his wavering belief; and his conversion would have been thoroughly a.s.sured by the timely exhibition of a broomstick on which he could see the saddle-marks.

None of these things had as yet been forthcoming, and the anxious inquirer, mourning the departure of all the romance of the art of witchcraft, was fast sinking into a state of incurable scepticism on the subject of even its utility, in the degenerate hands of modern pract.i.tioners. Hope had not, however, entirely deserted his heart, but still retained her fabled position in the bottom of his chest, near that important viscus, and he, therefore, courageously continued his pursuit of witchcraft under difficulties.

His next visit was to Orchard street, and he was induced to expect favorable results by the encouraging and positive a.s.sertion which concludes the subjoined advertis.e.m.e.nt, that "Madame Clifton is no humbug:"

"AN ASTROLOGIST THAT BEATS THE WORLD, and $5,000 reward is offered to pay any person who can surpa.s.s her in giving correct statements on past, present, and future events, particularly absent friends, losses, lawsuits, &c. She also gives lucky numbers. She surpa.s.ses any person that has ever visited our city. She is also making great cures. All persons who are afflicted with consumption, liver complaint, scrofula, rheumatism, or any other lingering disease, would do well to call and see this wonderful and natural gifted lady, and you will not go away dissatisfied. N.B.-Madame Clifton is no humbug. Call and satisfy yourselves. Residence No.

185 Orchard-st., between Houston and Stanton."

Although Orchard Street is by no means so objectionable a thoroughfare as human ingenuity might make it, still, in spite of its pleasant-sounding name, it is not altogether a vernal paradise. If there ever was any fitness in the name it must have been many years ago, and the ancient orchard bears now no fruit, but low brick houses of a.s.sorted sizes and colors, seedy, and, in appearance, semi-respectable. Occasionally a blacksmith's shop, a paint room, or a livery stable, lower or meaner and more contracted than their neighbors, look as if they never got ripe, but had shrivelled and dropped off before their time.

The street is in a state of perennial bloom with half-built dwellings like gaudy scarlet blossoms, which are ripened into tenements by the fostering care of masons and carpenters with the most industrious forcing; and buds of buildings are scattered in every direction, in the shape of mortar-beds and piles of brick and lumber, waiting the due time for their architectural sprouting.

The house of Madame Clifton is of moderate growth, being but two stories high; it has a red brick front and green window-blinds, and is so ingeniously grafted to its nearest neighbor that some little care is necessary to determine which is the parent stock.

It presents a fair outside, is but little damaged by age or weather, and is seemingly in a state of good repair.

A neat-looking colored girl answered the bell, and, showing our reporter into the parlor, asked his business, and if he "knew Madame Clifton's terms?"

Now when it is understood that fortune-telling is by no means the only, or the most lucrative part of Madame Clifton's business, it will be perceived that this inquiry had a peculiar significance.

Having the fear of libel suits before his eyes, the Individual cannot state in precise and plain terms the exact nature of the business which the colored girl evidently thought had brought him there; he will content himself with delicately insinuating, that if his errand had been of the nature insinuated by that female delegate from Africa, there would have been a "lady in the case."

Fortunately the Cash Customer had erred not thus, but he made known to the colored lady his simple business.

Learning that he only wanted to have his fortune told by the Madame, and had no occasion to test her skill in the more expensive departments of her profession, the girl appeared to be satisfied of the responsibility of her visitor for that limited amount, and departed to inform her mistress.

The customer took an observation.

The room was a neatly-furnished parlor, a little flashy perhaps in the article of mirrors, but the sofas, chairs, carpet, &c., were plain and not offensive to good taste. A piano was in the room, but it was closed, and its tone and quality are unknown.

One curious article, for a parlor ornament, stood in the corner of the room; it was the huge sign-board of a perfumery store, and bore in large letters the name of a dealer in sweet-scented merchandise, blazoned thereon in all the finery of Dutch metal and bronze. This conspicuous article, though mysterious and unaccountable, was not cabalistic, and savored not of witchcraft.

Presently the quiet colored girl returned, and in a low voice, and with a subdued well-trained manner, invited her visitor to follow her; meekly obeying, he was led up two flights of respectable stairs into a room wherein there was nothing mysterious, nor was there anything particularly suggestive except a large gla.s.s case filled with a stock of perfumery. What was the propriety of so very many bottles filled with perfumes and medicines did not at first appear; but the a.s.sortment of imprisoned odors, and liquid drugs, and the store-sign down stairs, and Madame Clifton, and a certain perfumery store in Broadway, and the proprietor thereof, so tangled themselves together in the brain of the inquirer that he has never since that time been able to disconnect one from the other.

Upon a small stand were two packs of cards-the one an ordinary playing pack, and the other what are known sometimes as fortune-telling cards. The devices on these latter differed materially from those in ordinary use; there were no plain cards; every one was ornamented with some kind of a significant design; there were pictures of women, of men, of ships and raging seas, of hea.r.s.es, and sickbeds, and shrouds, and coffins, and corpses, and graves, and tombstones, and similar cheerful objects; then there were squares, and circles, and hands with scales, and hands with daggers, and hands sticking through clouds, and purses of money, and carriages, and moons, and suns, and serpents, and hearts, and Cupids, and eyes, and rays of light coming from nowhere, and shining on nothing, and Herculeses with big clubs, and big arms, bigger than the clubs, and big legs, bigger than both together, and swords, and spears, and sundials, and many other designs equally intelligible and portentous.

Soon the Madame appeared, and the attention of the Individual was immediately diverted from surrounding objects and riveted on the incomprehensible woman who was "no humbug," and who, according to her own opinion of herself, would have exactly realized Mr.

Edmund Sparkler's idea of a "dem'd fine woman, with n.o.biG.o.dnonsense about her."

On the first glance, Madame Clifton is what would be called "fine-looking," but she does not a.n.a.lyse well. She is of medium height, aged about thirty-five years, with very light, piercing blue eyes, and very black hair, one little lock of which is precisely twisted into a very elaborate little curl, which rests in the middle of her forehead between her eyes, as if to keep those quarrelsome orbs apart. Her eyebrows are unusually heavy, so much so as to give a curious menacing look to the upper part of her face, which disagreeable expression is intensified by the extreme paleness of her countenance.

Her dress was una.s.suming, neat, and tasteful, save in the one article of jewelry, of which she wore as much as if the stock in trade at the Broadway perfumery store had been pearls, and gold, and diamonds, instead of perfumes and essences. Her deportment was self-possessed and lady-like, that is, if an expression of tireless watchfulness and unsleeping suspicion are consistent with refined and easy manners. She never took her steel-blue eyes from her visitor's face; she did not for an instant relax her confident smile; she did not speak but in the lowest softest tones; but her auditor felt every instant more convinced that the voice was the falsest voice he ever heard, the smile the falsest smile he ever saw, and that the cold piercing eye alone was true, and that was only true because no art could conceal its calculating glitter.

If one could imagine a smiling cat, Madame Clifton would resemble that cat more than any one thing in the world. Neat and precise in her outward appearance; not a fold of her garments, not a thread of lace or ribbon, not a hair of her head, but was exactly smooth and orderly, and in its exact place; not a glance of her eye that was not watchful and suspicious; not a tone or word that was not treacherous in sound; not a movement of body or of limb that was not soft and stealthy; her feline resemblances developed themselves more and more every instant, until at last the Individual came to regard her as some kind of dangerous animal in a state of temporary and perfidious repose. And this impression deepened every instant, so much so, that when the small soft hand was laid in his, he almost expected to see the sharp claws unsheathe themselves from the velvet finger-tips and fasten in his flesh.