ine furnished his friend with the necessary
information, and, when the hour of assignation arrived, conducted his
charge to this oraculous seer.

They were admitted by our hero's valet-de-chambre, whose visage, being
naturally meagre and swarthy, was adorned with artificial whiskers; so
that he became the Persian dress which he wore, and seemed a very proper
master of the ceremonies to an Oriental necromancer. Having crossed his
arms upon his breasts, with an inclination of the head, he stalked in
solemn silence before them into the penetralia of the temple, where
they found the conjurer sitting at a table, provided with pen, ink, and
paper, divers books, mathematical instruments, and a long white wand
lying across the whole. He was habited in a black gown and fur cap. His
countenance, over and above a double proportion of philosophic gravity,
which he had assumed for the occasion, was improved by a thick beard,
white as snow, that reached to his middle, and upon each shoulder sat a
prodigious large black cat which had been tutored for the purpose.

Such a figure, which would have startled Peregrine himself, had not he
been concerned in the mystery, could not fail to make an impression upon
those whom he accompanied. The fictitious chambermaid, in spite of all
her natural pertness and vivacity, changed colour when she entered
the room, while the pretended lady, whose intellects were not quite so
enlightened, began to tremble in every joint, and ejaculate petitions
to Heaven for her safety. Their conductor, advancing to the table,
presented his offering, and, pointing to the maid, told him, that lady
desired to know what would be her destiny in point of marriage. The
philosopher, without lifting up his eyes to view the person in whose
behalf he was consulted, turned his ear to one of the sable familiars
that purred upon his shoulder, and, taking up the pen, wrote upon a
detached slip of paper these words, which Peregrine, at the desire
of the ladies, repeated aloud: "Her destiny will, in a great measure,
depend upon what happened to her about nine o'clock in the morning on
the third day of last December."

This sentence was no sooner pronounced, than the counterfeit lady
screamed, and ran into the ante-chamber, exclaiming, "Christ have mercy
upon us! Sure he is the devil incarnate!" Her mistress, who followed her
with great consternation, insisted upon knowing the transaction to which
the response alluded; and Mrs. Abi