have real news; cut all the politics out
of the Times, Fanny, with your scissors, and then read me the rest."

Fanny obeyed.

"'Fire in Marylebone!'"

"That's not news!--skip that."

"'Letter from Padieal.'"

"Stuff! What else?"

"Emigration:--'No fewer than sixty-eight----'"

"Hold! for mercy's sake! What do I, just going out of the world, care
for people only going out of the country? Here, child, give the paper to
Godolphin; he knows exactly what interests a man of sense."

"'Sale of Lord Lysart's wines----'"

"Capital!" cried Saville: "that's news--that's interesting!"

Fanny's pretty hands returned to their knitting. When the wines had been
discussed, the following paragraph was chanced upon:--

"There is a foolish story going the round of the papers about Lord Grey
and his vision;--the vision is only in the silly heads of the inventors
of the story, and the ghost is, we suppose, the apparition of Old Sarum.
By the way, there is a celebrated fortune-teller, or prophetess, now in
London, making much noise. We conclude the discomfited Tories will next
publish her oracular discourses. She is just arrived in time to predict
the passing of the Reform Bill, without any fear of being proved an
impostor."

"Ah, by the by," said Saville, "I hear wonders of this sorceress. She
dreams and divines with the most singular accuracy; and all the old
women of both sexes flock to her in hackney-coaches, making fools of
themselves to-day in order to be wise to-morrow. Have you seen her,
Fanny?"

"Yes," replied the actress, very gravely; "and, in sober earnest, she
has startled me. Her countenance is so striking, her eyes so wild, and
in her conversation there is so much enthusiasm, that she carries you
away in spite of yourself. Do you believe in astrology, Percy?"

"I almost did once," said Godolphin, with a half sigh; "but does this
female seer profess to choose astrology in preference to cards? The last
is the more convenient way of tricking the public."

"Oh, but this is no vulgar fortune-teller, I assure you," cried Fanny,
quite eagerly: "she dwells much on magnetism; insists on the effect of
your own imagination; discards all outward quackeries; and, in short,
has either discovered a new way of learning the future, or revived
some forgotten trick of deluding the public. Come and see her some day,
Godolphin."

"No, I don't like that kind of imposture," said Godolphin, quickly, and
turning away, he sank into