The fortune-telling philosopher, who inspected the finger nails:  his visiters—­Another philosopher, who judged of the character by the hair—­The fortune-teller duped—­Predatory warfare.

As we returned to our lodgings, we saw a number of persons, some of whom were entering and some leaving a neat small dwelling; and on joining the throng, we learnt that a famous fortune-teller lived there, who, at stated periods, opened his house to all that were willing to pay for being instructed in the events of futurity, or for having the secrets of the present or past revealed to them.  On entering the house, and descending a flight of steps, we found, at the farther end of a dark room, lighted with a chandelier suspended from the ceiling, an elderly man, with a long gray beard, and a thin, pale countenance, deeply furrowed with thought rather than care.  He received us politely, and then resumed the duties of his vocation.  His course of proceeding was to examine the finger nails, and, according to their form, colour, thickness, surface, and grain, to determine the character and destinies of those who consulted him.  I was at once pleased and surprised at the minuteness of his observation, and the infinite variety of his distinctions.  Besides the qualities of the nails that I have mentioned, he noticed some which altogether eluded my senses, such as their milkiness, flintiness, friability, elasticity, tenacity, and sensibility; whether they were aqueous, unctious, or mealy; with many more, which have escaped my recollection.

A modest, pensive looking girl, apparently about seventeen, was timidly holding forth her hand for examination, at the time we entered.  Avarabet, (for that was the name of this philosopher,) uttered two or three words, with a significant shake of his head, upon which I saw the rising tear in her eyes.  She withdrew her hand, and had not courage to let him take another look.

A fat woman, of a sanguine temperament, holding a little girl by the hand, then stepped up and showed her fingers.  He pronounced her amorous, inconstant, prone to anger, and extravagant; that she had made one man miserable, and would probably make another.  She also abruptly withdrew, giving manifest signs of one of the qualities ascribed to her.

An elderly matron then approached, holding forth one trembling, palsied hand, with a small volume in the other.  Avarabet hesitated for some time; examined the edges as well as the surface of the nails; drew his finger slowly over them, and then said,—­“You have a susceptible heart; you are in sorrow, but your affliction will soon have an end.”  It was easy to see, in the look of the applicant, signs of pious resignation, and a lively hope of another and a better state of existence.