be snatched from their grasp if they did not
"leave something upon it," and fondly looking
forward to the time when they would be entitled
to bear the pages of sham wisdom to their
solitary homes. I do not believe that a single one
of them ever attempted to hold converse with the
spirit Astaroth, or to discover the philosopher's
stone. But it was pleasant to reflect that the
secret of performing these wonders was to be
found at any rate on one's shelf, if not within
one's brain, and that, some day or other, one
might possibly be a magician. A few, I think,
dabbled in astrology, but I am of opinion that
the predictions which they founded upon
carefully constructed horoscopes, were not a quarter
so satisfactory, so clear, or so exciting as those
of the old lady who professionally " cut the
cards" in the nearest court, and opened the
gates of the future to her admiring customers
at the small charge of one shilling a head.

Perhaps I have conveyed a wrong impression
by asserting that the books to which I allude are
not to be confounded with the common
Fortune-tellers and Dream-books which were once sold
at sixpence, and are now, I believe, to be
obtained for a penny. I meant that in shape, size,
style, and breadth of subject, they are different,
but you must not imagine that the cheap school
of magical literature is wholly unconnected with
the other. Those little receipts for spells and
incantations, which are conned over by many a
serving-maid, are so many excerpts from larger
volumes, made goodness knows when; or, at any
rate, are rags and tatters of the same science,
which is more ponderously represented in the
thick quartos. Many persons will remember
a sort of drawing-room Fortune-teller which
made its appearance about thirty or forty years
since, cost five shillings, and was called
Napoleon's Book of Fate. Certain groups of asterisks,
which appeared in a large picture, had a great,
deal to do with the process it recommended.
Well, these groups are the signs belonging to
the old science of geomancy, they are as
regularly named as the signs of the zodiac, and a
chapter is devoted to them by Henry Cornelius
Agrippa in his work on Occult Philosophy.

However, my object is not to draw a
comparison between ancient and modern magic, but
to tell a story which I picked up from one of
my old booksellers, and which related to a work
that he had sold many years before. This old
man was the only one of all the fraternity who
regarded occult science with anything like
reverence and faith. The rest, I should say,
scarcely believed in anything besides snuff and
gin-and-water.

An old cobbler of Bartholomew-close, having
won a small prize in the lottery, in those golden
days when the names of Bysshe and Goodluck
were more familiar to the public than those of
the greatest heroes, poets, or statesmen, resolved
to shut up his stall, at least for a while, and to
sojourn with a relative in the country. He was
one of those humble students of occult science
to whom I have alluded, and he attributed his
possession of a lucky number to the skill with
which he had interpreted a significant dream.
His tools were deposited at one of those
convenient establishments which are always ready
to effect small loans on adequate security, the
key was turned in his lock, his two or three
occult books were tucked under his arm, and his
bodily self was conveyed on the top of the
stagecoach to his relative's abode. For the first day
or two everybody seemed glad to see him, but
when old stories had been told on both sides
people began to wish that the cobbler had stopped
in London, and the wish gained in intensity as
the visitor's purse grew light. He died
suddenly enough to occasion a shock, which,
perhaps, vibrated through the village for a week,
but the tears shed for him were few, and some
even referred to his decease as a "good rid-
dance."

The volumes on occult science were the only
property left by the cobbler. He had never
discoursed of them, and the goodwife of the
house finding them under his bed, and lighting
on a few words that seemed to have a pious
signification, concluded that they were " good
books" fitted for Sunday reading. She accordingly
clothed them in green baize and assigned
to them the post of honour on the side-table in
the best room. An astrological chapter on the
malignant powers of Saturn confirmed her in her
opinion, for not being strong in orthography, she
confounded the name of the planet with that of
the arch-enemy against whom she thought a
solemn and a wholesome warning had been written.
Do not imagine that the good-wife was a whit less
shrewd than her neighbours in matters which
she perfectly understood. Even we, clever as
we all think ourselves, might arrive at a wrong
conclusion as to the purport of a large book if
we required three hours to spell through as
many lines, and were compelled, whenever we
closed the volume, to stick a pin at the point
where our studies ceased for fear of losing the
place.

The old lady, you perceive, was perfectly
consistent, when one Sunday afternoon, hearing
her daughter Betsy complain of the head-ache,
she advised her not to go to church, but by way
of substitute to peruse one of her deceased
cousin's "good books." Betsy, left at home
by herself, followed this excellent counsel, and
her obedience was soon rewarded, for she
lighted on a page filled with most interesting
and exciting matter. Being a better scholar
than her mother, she speedily devoured a chapter,
in which young ladies were taught the art
of peeping so far into futurity that they could
discover the face and figure of their future
husbands. The means requisite to obtain this
desirable end were most various, and some of
them so simple, that one could only marvel they
had not been tried by every damsel in the United
Kingdom. There is, however, a certain amount
of fear, that commonly stands in the way of
magical experiments, and that this fear is not
always unwholesome will be proved by my
story.