a monomania, as I dare say she, whose
eyes will be reading this by-and-by, may
herself think. Or with more indulgence she
will perhaps say, "My dear, I have heard
Dr. Bulmer preach far worse." Well
perhaps he has, and I have no business to
be dressing myself up in a surplice—en
amateur. But I say again this does me
good, and it will do me good again to read
it, and perhaps years hence strange eyes
will fall upon it, and reflect, and own,
perhaps a little comically, " Well, he is the
first that has got sermons, not out of stones,
which would be a limited range of subject;
but out of roulette and the card table, and
the wolfish eyes of ' hell keepers.' " There,
darling, I won't preach again until further
notice.

But the truth is, I am in a sort of
elation, for I did more than mere rapid
preaching this day. Speech may be silvern,
silence golden, but action is, after all, a
diamond. Going in this night to the
roulette table, I see an unusual crowd, and
faces showing that stupid interest and
admiration which is about as sincere as that
of the crowd who stand gaping at the
foolhardy Blondin, or the reckless Leotard.
Fifty per cent of that crowd has a lingering
and secret aspiration, that it might, if a
catastrophe were to be, be only present to
see it. Here I find they are staring at a tall
gay Englishman, a fresh good-looking fellow
in some regiment, and whose honest health
and loud proclamation of the tub every
morning, contrasts with the yellow, dirty
faces and the niggardly economy of soap,
linen, &c., which they insinuate. His play is
of the boldest, not laying the table broadcast
with his gold as some foolish ones do; but
with a sort of instinct selecting a number
here, another there, and " bedding and
potting" it, as some one said, with his gold.
What I delight in is his contemptuous
treatment of the crew of croupiers, whom
he treats as though they were mere scavengers
or night men, not fit to be addressed, or
as you would a dependant. He tosses them
his money insolently, and makes them
arrange it for him, and if they are awkward,
speaks to them with a haughty arrogance
that seems to exasperate them. He has
won with many pieces on Zero, he has hit
the number again and again, and I see the
brigands' eyes of the " hell keepers,"
glancing at him furtively, with anger and
dislike, as though they were thinking,
"Shall we ' set ' him with some of our
bullies as he goes home to his hotel,
and strip him of what ho has robbed us
of?" Approving faces are bent on this
darling, whom Fortune in one of her
caprices dandles for a few seconds in her
arms, like some pretty child, and then
allows to drop on the pavement. The
enamelled faces of the mermaids are turned
towards him; and the rustling of their
fins and tail is heard, as they come swimming
round a new prey. I drew near to
him, and heard him tell a friend behind,
"I must have got more than a thousand
out of them," and a voice that I know
says, in its accustomed drawl, " Now is
the time then, sack 'em, and you'll have the
glory of being the first to break the bank
this season." I knew it seemed intrusive,
but I could not resist saying, in a low
voice, " Now is the time to retire. Luck
always changes."

The soapstone face was stretched round to
look. " Oh! Grainger's friend," he said.
"This is the gentleman I was telling you of,
who has the system——"

"I have no system," I said, coolly.

"I was wrong, then, it seems," he went
on. " The gentleman who preaches against
the bank one day, and for his infallible
system the next."

The young fellow was naturally not
attending.

"Confound it!" he said. " The luck is
turning. I have got nothing these last
three turns. I'll take his advice, and
carry off what I have bagged. Come, and
let us count. Here's Grainger. Look
here, Grainger, my boy!"

It was now about half-past eleven. Soon
the mystic proclamation would be heard—
"Aux trois derniers!" Grainger's eyes
sparkled with an unholy fire of envy—
possibly of disappointment, for I would not do
him wrong—as he looked on the glittering
treasure which the other was holding in
his hand as though it were so much mould.
But he turned to me suddenly.

"Here, Pollock, let me introduce a
friend of mine—the hero of that little story
which your brother knows."

I remembered there was a Captain Pollock
in the regiment at that time, and I remember,
Dora, being ludicrously jealous one
night, at your dancing with him.

"Oh, indeed!" said the young fellow who
had won. "I recollect. Poor Grainger was
left out in the cold. But I tell you what;
I'll stand a supper at Chevet's for the whole
party—neat meat, neat wines, neat everything.
Come, no excuse. The winner
pays for all, and we'll count the cash
between the courses."