The Washington critic., 1886-11-27
A LESSON In PALMISTRY

"A uEGNUN LIN l. ALMlOlN1
1t was one summer by the sea, years
and years ago--almost an age ago, so
1t seems now. Just how many years
ago need not be said. Years never are
what they seem to be after they are
gone. They are either shorter or
longer than they were, and these years
of mine were lire all the rest. She was
fourteen and was sixteen. She was
pretty, graceful and slender. Her hair
was dark, and came down low over her
forehead. Her eyes were brown, and
when she laughed they laughed, when
wanted them to they could speak, as
they did speak TO me once that summer
by the sea. But / am anticipating my
story. Her checks were rich with color,
and so were her lips. She was pretty,
was Phillis, and | was n boy of six.
teen, as awkward, as laundering, aud
as impressionable as boys of sixteen are
apt to be.
1t was Phillis who gave me my first
lesson in palmistry. She was romantic
at that age, as most girls are, and loved
poetry and caramels, was devoted to
novels and romance, and had an alfec.
tion for mysteries, which came from
deep down in her heart. Phillis had
a heart-when she was fourteen.
loved simply her. To her only was
devoted, and upon her alone all the
youthful affection of growing boy
was generously lavished. She didn't
love me then; there was no mystery,
no romance, no poetry about me, but
there were caramels, and | was the
only boy in all Portsmouth that she
knew that summer by the sea. Ac-
cording, under these circumstances, |
was made to feel that life was a very
pleasant thing and very passable
creature for my age.
In the attic of the old house where
we lived, my aunt's-we were kins.
folk, far removed, Phillis and There
was an antiquated book on magic, with
dingy cover, cracked open at the
back and redolent of must, which gave
to its contents certain flavor OF We.
racity as though its yellow page, had
been porcd over by many an astral
scholar in ages gone by. And would
they have studied 1t so deeply had it
not told the truth 1t contained fig
ures Of hands, roughly drawn, with
labyrinths of lines upon the palms,
crossing and recrossing each other like
the creases in a crumpled piece of
paper. These mysterious lines were
defined in the text and their signitl.
canoe for veal and for woe were point
cd out at length.
In this book Philis fairly rcvelled,
and to unravel its mystery and master
its definitions she devoted herself with
ardent zest, until finally she knew
enough Of its lore to give me my first
lesson In palmis,ry. The same to which
/ have alluded before. 1t was one af.
ternoon in June. We had wandered
far away from the house aud sat down
on rustic bench on the lawn overlook
ing the sea.
"Chub," said she q was called Club
when l was sixteeu-because | looked
as little like club as a trout looks
like dolphin.-as some men nowaday
are called great), "shall | read from
destiny in your hand:'
Something you learned in that old
bookY' was my unromantic reply.
Yes" she said, "and it's simply
wonderful what it tells. Do you
know" she added, con6dentially,
drawing little closer to my side and
speaking almost In whisper. "Do
You know"
"Whal?" asked, interested, but not
enthused-that is, not just then.
"Why, 1t has told me all my life;
everything | ever did almost, and it
shows me the most beautiful future
you can think Of. Isn't that nice? OF
course it must be true"
may have looked skeptical, but |
wisely kept silent.
"Well, 1t is true. i know 1t, for"-
this triumphantly-"if it tells the
truth about the past, why shouldn't t
1t tell the truth about the futurc?'
Having no answering argument at
my disposal at the moment l made no
reply,
'If you don't care to have your for.
tune told, though" she continued
with touch of disappointment in her
displeasure as she arose with quiet
dignity and prepared to 20.
Don't go, Phillis," / exclaimed,
penttently. "You can tell my fortune
If you want to. You can tell 1t n hun.
drtd times. l don't care. Indeed
don't. I'd rather enjoy it. Come, now,
don't be angry, Phillis. How do you
begin? Which hand? Right? or left
See, here are my hands, both OF
them"
IF you will promise to be rcl
good" Phillis spoke slowly and with
emphasis.
'I'll promise anything" | inter
rupted.
''And If you will not scoif at the
art" she continued like true victor
without noticing my comprehensive
but ill.timed assent to her terms of con
quest. "If you will be quiet and re
spectful and remember all | tell you
will read your hands otherwise"
My promise this time was 50 alnest
and so contrlte that the palmist re
Tented Mt once, aud after grasping the
tirs of my outstretched hand in one o
hers and pointing with dainty flugeI
tip to the largest Of the lines whicl
crossed the palm she began drawinl
aside the curtain which hid from IN
learned eyes my future aud my past
what a big hand you have, Uhub,
she observed by way of preface, "ant
how hard 1t is."
My hand did look large when claspet
by her pretty tlngers-largGr than 4
ever looked before, and as ga2el up0r
u IL seemed To grow even larger still
and my face reddened with shame.
"That doesn't make any difference
n. A.. l.. H., 1 A