with contempt;" but, instead of that, Zadkiel's
fame is increasing in ratio with his years.
Unfortunately, his fame is yet confined to a very
small circle. No one educated person in a
thousand ever heard of Zadkiel.

What Zadkiel charged me sixpence for, I can
get for a penny in Old Moore's "Vox
Stellarum." There are two rival Old Moore's, with
differing Star Voices, but I will take the one
out of Crane-court first. Here a ghastly
picture of two vultures fighting, and of dead men
in various stages of decomposition, again indicate
the presence of war for 1862. The Pope,
lying dead, his tiara looking marvellously like
a frilled cotton nightcap; a cloudy bear, making
hideous faces at a reasonable-looking old lion,
who is supposed to be guarding the " world's
workshop;" a pitchfork and a few stones,
apparently coming from the moon at the bear
aforesaid, mean, I suppose, that England is to
be safe from the war vultures down below; in
which two out of my four prophets hold
different views respecting the future. Moore is
not nearly so explicit as our former friend; in
fact, he is rather retrospective than prophetic,
and gives us only the vaguest hints, which will
serve for anything one likes; but he has pretty
little vignettes, a sheet of the heads of nations,
a monthly recommendation to all suffering
mortals to take Parr's life-pills, with other
indigestible and unnecessary information. The
rival Old Moore, out of Holywell-street, is
sufficiently terrifying in his hieroglyphic. A huge
scaly serpent, vomiting forked lightnings and
winged rifle-bullets; men killing each other in
every possible manner and attitude; ships blowing
up; a vulture pecking at a king; with a host
of ugly fancies, very badly executed, make the
sum of the rival Old Moore's prophecies. Clearly
my batch of prophets do not become more kind
as I go on; certainly not more assuring.

The most ambitious of the whole collection is
"Raphael's Prophetic Messenger," with a fine
coloured frontispiece, in the style of the dream
and fortune-telling books, so dear to servant-maids
and country girls—an inexplicable frontispiece,
with Britannia wearing crape round her
arm; an operatic Louis Napoleon, in very white
buckskins and very black jackboots, treading on
"the Press;" the Pope, as a lachrymose old
woman, sitting disconsolate in his chair; two
crowns covered with crape; a group of four
—one of them a negro—dancing round the tree of
monarchy; a light between two regiments
—nation and cause unknown; the star and stripes
sundered; and Turkey, as a mild kind of pirate,
looming up over the old Pope's chair. Raphael's
liberal power of exposition is the best thing
about the prophets of all time; for, when
predictions mean anything or nothing it is always
possible to make them seem to mean something.
Raphael, like Zadkiel, deals with definite
predictions for the months, whereby we are thrown
into a delightful state of confusion, not knowing
which to choose. On the 25th of January, Zadkiel
prophesied a terrible conflagration, Raphael
inclines to "some violent deed, probably towards
a female." February sees "government in bad
odour, for Saturn affects the ruling places," all
sorts of commercial and political depression, a
vast amount of crime, and poor King Otho in
sad disrepute. In March the ministry are to
resign; in April the royal household is to be
disturbed; also, because Mars passes the
moon's place on the 27th of March, Abraham
Lincoln's birthday, we may look for news of
"some rash inadvertency on his part." In May
Earl Russell is to "feel the untoward influence
of the transit of Mars;" the transits of Saturn
and Jupiter are to affect Victor Emmanuel,
Garibaldi, Francis Joseph, and the Pope; and
because Mars and Saturn are ruling, fearful
strife is to be stirred up and the American President
again led to rash conduct. Poor President!
the planets are always getting into some
ill-natured position for him.

The sixth, seventh, and eighth of June next
are evil, and betoken all sorts of nameless harm
to persons born on those days; excursionists
are to beware during the first week of this
month, for Saturn and Jupiter continue in close
proximity, and Venus rules the scheme, in the
seventh being in her detriment. Wherefore we
are to have fevers and epidemics, and all matters
whatsoever are to be of bad and hurtful aspect.
In July, there will be accidents, either at some
place of amusement or on the railway—a pretty
safe prediction for the time of year—and a fearful
case of poisoning and murder. August is full
of misery at home and evil influences abroad.
September gives us a crop of theological perversions
and schisms because Uranus is "exactly
on the cusp of the ninth house;" much clerical
jugglery resulting when "Saturn, Jupiter, and
Uranus are within orbs of untoward aspect;"
Mars reaching the opposition of Jupiter on the
13th of October, will cause fires, robberies,
frauds, and murders; November has influences
that portend evil to everybody; and in December
"a gloom appears to overshadow all;" so
that clearly, again, 1862 is not to be the year
when swords are to be beaten into plough-shares,
and the lion is to lie down with the lamb.

When my nerves are sufficiently recovered
from the gloomy predictions of my English
Jeremiahs, I turn to the French froth lying at
my elbow, to see what can be made out of that.
In the first place, will any one be kind enough
to inform me why the Almanach Prophétique is
called the Almanach Prophétique? What is
there prophetic in it? Is a list of Saints' days
prophecy? or of high tides? or a table of the
eclipses of 1862? or a code of mourning? a
political essay on the advantages of the commercial
treaty? or a wild story about a gardener of
Monaco who made blue roses, and grew oranges
out of apple-trees, led a lion to be a mild
milk-lapping lamb, and turned a lamb into a
meat-eating, furious beast of prey? Or does a
collection of "rural prophecies" concerning the
weather give the right to the title of prophetic?
Is a man a prophet because he tells us that "at
Christmas on the balcony, at Easter by the fireside"
—that "March winds and April showers