Twenty-five years ago, I visited Madam Young, in Ellsworth, Me.
"You are going a journey," she soon said, after I was seated, and she had
examined my "bumps" to learn that I was a rolling stone. "You are going
south-west from here." "Marvellous!" one might say, who had little
reflective qualities of brain, for that was the very thing I was about to
do. But from Ellsworth, Maine, which way else could one go, without going
"south-west," unless he really went to the "jumping-off place, away down
east?"
Again I visited her in Charleston, S. C.
"You are going a journey soon," she informed me.
"Which way?" I amusingly inquired.
"Towards the north," was the necessary reply.
Charleston is at the extremity of a neck of land. I was not expected to
jump off into the bay, by going southward, and her answer was the only
rational one. She would minutely describe any person, "good, bad, or
indifferent," whom I would fix my mind upon. I was suffering at the time
with bronchitis, which she correctly stated. She was the best clairvoyant
I have ever tested. She died at Hartford, in 1862.