would be absurd, having already taken so much trouble to find out a room that was inhabited—for that such was the case, a short, thick snore assured me—so that my resolve was at once made, to waken the sleeper, and endeavour to interest him in my destitute situation. I accordingly approached the place where the nasal sounds seemed to issue from, and soon reached the post of a bed. I waited for an instant, and then began, “Monsier, voulez vous bien me permettre—” “As to short whist, I never could make it out, so there is an end of it,” said my unknown friend, in a low, husky voice, which, strangely enough, was not totally unfamiliar to me: but when or how I had heard it before I could not then think. Well, thought I, he is an Englishman at all events, so I hope his patriotism may forgive my intrusion, so here goes once more to rouse him, though he seems a confoundedly heavy sleeper. “I beg your pardon, sir, but unfortunately in a point like the present, perhaps—” “Well, do you mark the points, and I’ll score the rubber,” said he. “The devil take the gambling fellow’s dreaming,” thought I, raising my voice at the same time. “Perhaps a cold night, sir, may suffice as my apology.” “Cold, oh, ay! put a hot poker to it,” muttered he; “a hot poker, a little sugar, and a spice of nutmeg—nothing else—then it’s delicious.” “Upon my soul, this is too bad,” said I to myself. “Let us see what shaking will do. Sir, sir, I shall feel obliged by—” “Well there, don’t shake me, and I’ll tell you where I hid the cigars—they are under my straw hat in the window.” “Well, really,” thought I, “if this gentleman’s confessions were of an interesting nature, this might be good fun; but as the night is cold, I must shorten the ‘seance,’ so here goes for one effort more. “If, sir, you could kindly spare me even a small portion of your bed-clothes.” “No, thank you, no more wine; but I’ll sing with pleasure;” and here the wretch, in something like the voice of a frog with the quinsy, began, “‘I’d mourn the hopes that leave me.’”