My late father, being a man distinguished for his clear convictions, was accustomed to sustain the statement of those convictions by wagers. The inherent generosity of his nature obliged him often to waive his convictions in behalf of others, and thus to abandon the receipt of considerable sums. He also found the intellectual excitement of games of chance necessary to his mental health. I cannot blame him for these and similar gentlemanly tastes. My own are the same. The late Mr. A. Bratley, at that time in his dotage, and recurring to the crude idioms of his homely youth, constantly said to my father,-- "Harold, you are a spendthrift and a rake, and are bringing up your son the same." I object, of course, to his terms; but since he foresaw that my habits would be expensive, it is to be regretted that he did not make suitable provision for their indulgence. He did not, however, do so. Persons of low-breeding never can comprehend their duties to the more refined. The respective dusts of my father and grandfather were consigned to the tomb the same week, and it was found that my mother's property had all melted away, as--allow me a poetical figure--ice-cream melts between the lips of beauty heated after the German. Yes,--all was gone, except a small pittance in the form of an annuity. I will not state the ridiculously trifling amount. I have seen more than our whole annual income lost by a single turn of a card at the establishment of the late Mr. P. Hearn, and also in private circles. Something must be done. Otherwise, that deprivation of the luxuries of life which to the aristocratic is starvation. I stated my plans to my mother. They were based in part upon my well-known pecuniary success at billiards--I need not say that I prefer the push game, as requiring no expenditure of muscular force. They were also based in part upon my intimacy with a distinguished operator in Wall Street. Our capital would infallibly have been quadrupled,--what do I say? decupled, centupled, in a short space of time. My mother is a good, faithful creature. She looks up to me as a Bratley should to a Chylde. She appreciates the honor my father did her by his marriage, and I by my birth. I have frequently remarked a touching fidelity of these persons of the lower classes of society toward those of higher rank. "I would make any sacrifice in the world," she said, "to help you, my dear A---" "Hush!" I cried. I have suppressed my first name as unmelodious and connecting me too much with a religious persuasion meritorious for its wealth alone. Need I say that I refer to the faith of the Rothschild? "All that I have is yours, my dear Bratley," continued my mother. Quite touching! was it not? I was so charmed, that I mentally promised her a new silk when she went into half-mourning, and asked her to go with me to the opera as soon as she got over that feeble tendency to tears which kept her eyes red and unpresentable.