s ligneous racer at the Fashion Course, so that
he'd not get a chance to win any money from Lancet and Flora
Temple, still there was a hope, even on that point.

So, in search of the witch wife, whose dower should be the
broomstick horse, that should set the fond couple up in business,
started the sanguine lover.

Having had some experience of New York fortune-tellers and others
in the magic line, and not thinking they were of the sort likely
to have so great a treasure, he started for the suburbs, and
crossed the ferry to Williamsburgh, in order to pay a visit of
inquiry, and if possible to take the initiatory step in courting
Mrs. Pugh, of No. 102 South First Street, in that city.

He designed, of course, to buy a "fortune" at a liberal price,
for the purpose of setting the lady in good-humor as a necessary
preliminary step. He really had hopes that she would prove to be
of a slightly different style from some of the New York
fortune-tellers, who seem to have mistaken their profession and
to be hardly up to reading the stars with success, although they
might be fully equal to all the financial exigencies of an apple
and peanut stand, or might win an honorable distinction crying
"radishes and lettuce" in the early morning hours; or upon trial,
might, perhaps, evince a decided genius for the rag-picking
business, or preside over the fortunes of a soap-fat cart with
distinguished ability.

Threading the winding ways of Williamsburgh is by no means an
easy task for one unaccustomed, and it was only by incessantly
stopping the passers-by and making the most minute inquiries that
this lady was ever achieved at all.

This constant questioning of the public revealed, however, the
fact that Mrs. Pugh does not by any means depend upon her
fortune-telling for her bread-and-butter; she is a nurse, as many
a Williamsburgh baby could testify if it could command its
emotions long enough to speak. What will be the influence of her
supernaturalism and witchcraft upon the children intrusted to her
fostering care--whether they will in after life prove to be
devils, demi-gods, heroes, or mere ordinary "humans," time alone
can show. This illustrious lady does not advertise in the
newspapers; in fact, her fortune-telling is done on the sly, as
if she were yet an apprentice, and a little ashamed of her
bungling jobs, for which, by the way, she only charges half
price. She is in a very undecided state, and evidently undetermined
whe