The midshipman was forthwith made an ensign of the Guards, in order to entitle him to play at court. He set to work at once in accordance with his instructions, but after his own plan in the execution. He began with losing freely; and was, of course, soon noticed by the marquis, and marked as a pigeon worth plucking. The young Russian, however, forced him into high play, and he lost the greater part of his former gain. The marquis got nettled, lost his self-command, and proposed a monstrous stake, to the extent of his credit and gains, of which he thought he might make himself sure by some master-stroke of art. Accordingly, by means of a sleight, he managed to hold fifteen in hand, but his wily antagonist was equal to the occasion: by the aid of some sweetmeats from an adjoining table he SWALLOWED a card, and, being first in hand, the chance was determined in his favour, and he ruined the marquis. Once more the chancellor waited on the duke, and plainly told him that he had been anxious to guard him against the French gamester, purposely sent to fleece him, if he had had the patience to hear him. The duke then became outrageous, and wished to arrest the Frenchman as a cheat; but Osterman coolly said he had punished him in kind; and, producing a large bag, returned the duke's money, bidding him in future not to be so impatient when information was to be communicated by gouty persons. The clever ensign was allowed to retain the rest of the spoil, with an injunction, however, never to touch a card again, unless he wished to end his days among the exiles of Siberia. A PENITENT SONNET. written by the Lord Fitz-Gerald(29) (a great gamester) a little before his death, which was in the year 1580. (29) This Lord Fitzgerald was eldest son to the Earl of Kildare, and died at the age of twenty-one. 'By loss in play, men oft forget The duty they do owe To Him that did bestow the same, And thousand millions moe. 'I loath to hear them swear and stare, When they the Main have lost, Forgetting all the Byes that wear With God and Holy Ghost. 'By wounds and nails they think to win, But truly 'tis not so; For all their frets and fumes in sin They moneyless must go. 'There is no wight that used it more Than he that wrote this verse, Who cries Peccavi now, therefore; His oaths his heart do pierce. 'Therefore example take by me, That curse the luckless time That ever dice mine eyes did see, Which bred in me this crime. 'Pardon me for that is past, I will offend no more, In this most vile and sinful cast, Which I will still abhor.'(30) (30) Harl. Miscel. LOVE AND GAMBLING.