Reputations may be made by the merest chances, and yet reputations
control the fashions. That is a little prologue that would fit the case
of all sorts of people. Everywhere around one sees prejudices, scheming,
and obtuseness; but little or no justice. Nothing can be done to stem
this torrent of evil. It must run its course. It always has been and
always will be.


A woman in Paris once made it her profession to tell fortunes. She
became very popular and had great success. Did anybody lose a bit of
finery; had any one a sweetheart; had any wife a husband she was tired
of; any husband a jealous wife, to the prophetess such would run simply
to be told the thing that it was comforting to hear.

The stock-in-trade of this fortune-teller consisted merely of a
convincing manner, a few words of scientific jargon, a great deal of
impudence, and much good luck. All these things together so impressed
the people that as often as not they would cry, "Miraculous!" In short,
although the woman's ignorance was quite twenty-three carat she passed
for a veritable oracle.

Notwithstanding the fact that this oracle only lived in a garret, she
found so many ready to pay her well for her shams that she soon grew
rich enough to improve the position of her husband, to rent an office,
and buy a house.

The garret being left empty was shortly tenanted by another woman to
whom all the town--women, girls, valets, fine gentlemen--everybody in