All races, fairs, and other such conglomerations of those whom Heaven had blessed with more money than wit, used to be frequented by minor members of 'The Fancy,' who are technically called flat-catchers, and who picked up a very pretty living by a quick hand, a rattling tongue, a deal board, three thimbles, and a pepper-corn. The game they played with these three curious articles is a sort of Lilliputian game at cups and balls; and the beauty of it lies in dexterously seeming to place the pepper-corn under one particular thimble, getting a green to bet that it was there, and then winning his money by showing that it is not. Every operator at this game was attended by certain of his friends called eggers and bonnetters--the eggers to 'egg' on the green ones to bet, by betting themselves; and the bonnetters to 'bonnet' any green one who might happen to win--that is to say, to knock his hat over his eyes, whilst the operator and the others bolted with the stakes. Some years ago a curious case was tried, exemplifying the mode of procedure. A Frenchman, M. Panchaud, was at Ascot Races, and he there saw the defendant and several other 'gentlemen' betting away, and apparently winning 'lots of sovereigns,' at one of these same thimble-rigs. 'Try your luck, gentlemen,' cried the operator; 'I'll bet any gentleman anything, from half-a-crown to five sovereigns, that he doesn't name the thimble as covers the corn!' M. Panchaud betted half-a-crown--won it; betted a sovereign--won it; betted a second sovereign--LOST it. 'Try your luck, gentlemen!' cried the operator again, shifting his thimbles and pepper-corn about the board, here and there and everywhere in a moment; and this done, he offered M. Panchaud a bet of five sovereigns that he could not 'name the thimble what covered the corn.' 'Bet him! Bet him! Why don't you bet him?' said the defendant (a landlord), nudging M. Panchaud on the elbow; and M. Panchaud, convinced in his 'own breast' that he knew the right thimble, said--'I shall betta you five sovereign if you will not touch de timbles again till I name.' 'Done!' cried the operator; and M. Panchaud was DONE--for, laying down his L10 note, it was caught up by SOMEBODY, the board was upset, the operator and his friends vanished 'like a flash of lightning,' and M. Panchaud was left full of amazement, but with empty pockets, with the defendant standing by his side. 'They are a set of rascals!' said the defendant; 'but don't fret, my fine fellow! I'll take you to somebody that shall soon get your money again; and so saying he led him off in a direction thus described in court by the fleeced Frenchman.--'You tooke me the WRONG way! The thieves ran one way, and you took me the other, you know, ahah! You know what you are about--you took me the WRONG WAY--ahah!' CHAPTER XI. COCK-FIGHTING.