Payne returned to us; and Collins telling him that he had invited me to accompany them "for a little fun to-night," we sallied forth, and were not long in crossing Broadway, and finding ourselves in a suite of rooms, which, as soon as I set my eyes on them, I understood as one of the worst of the second-class of gambling hells in the city. Roulette, dice, and the latter loaded, and every other appurtenance of such a place, as well as cards and a faro bank, were there. The whole air of the place, the men at play and about the boards, were assurance to me that I was on the right track of the counterfeiters; but I felt at once that the game I had to play was a desperate one; that these fellows were the worst sort of cutthroats. We both played a little, Payne and I; but Collins played not at all that night, except the part of a particular "friend" to Payne in various ways. I lost considerable, Payne lost more, and his note was received on demand; but still with the understanding that he was not to be asked to cash it till his Kentucky remittance came on. It was a part of my plan to play and lose a little that night, to furnish occasion to come again; and when we parted to go home, the "gentleman" of the establishment, to whom Collins had introduced me as Wilson, said, "Mr. Wilson, now you've learned the way, drop in occasionally. Poor luck don't run always." "Ha, ha!" said I, "gentlemen," taking the matter good-humoredly. "I'm not feeling very well to-night; but you can expect me around some time to break your bank when I am in good spirits." "That's right, come along any time. We like bold players, if they do clean us out sometimes; nothing like spirit,"--and we bowed ourselves out.