Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they were wonderful equill; and about suppertime (when grilled am, more shampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stood thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt, 30 shillings; the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost £3.10s. After the dewle and the shampang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five pound the bet. I thought, to be sure, after hearing the complyments between Blewitt and master in the morning, that now pore Dawkins's time was come. Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving him the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore on a card. "Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you--let me see--yes, five-and-forty pounds?" "Five-and-forty," says Blewitt, "and no mistake!" "I will give you a cheque," says the honrabble genlmn. "Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!" But master got a grate sheet of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit, and Co., his bankers. "Now," says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum of money. Voyons: thirteen points, at a pound--it is easy to calculate;" and, drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my eyes wink. So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew them in. "Let me say," added master, "let me say (and I've had some little experience), that you are the very best écarté player with whom I ever sat down." Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, "Law, Deuceace, you flatter me." Flatter him! I should think he did. It was the very thing which master ment. "But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, "I must have my revenge; for I'm ruined--positively ruined--by your luck." "Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had gained a millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you!" Mr. Blewitt agread, in course. My master, after a little demurring, consented too. "We'll meet," says he, "at your chambers. But mind, my dear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially when I have to play écarté with you." Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. "Here, Charles," says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I know what was a comin! * * * * * But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, master had borrowed them from Mr. Blewitt! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. * * * * *