Blodget was evidently troubled by these practical illustrations of the evils of gambling, which occurred at a very unfortunate time for his purposes. He, however, contrived to make Monteagle swallow several glasses of liquor which was not without its effects, and served in a great measure to deaden his sensibilities. The music, too, floated through the apartment, like a syren beckoning with her white and jewelled hand the thoughtless to their doom. It was midnight—Monteagle, reclined on a settee, which overlooked the table of rouge et noir, and feeling the soothing effect of music and wine, said to Blodget— ‘After all, Blodget, there is a certain amount of evil in this world, and I do not know that one can make it less. It is like filling up part of a lake—the waters only retire to another part.’ ‘Yes,’ interrupted the other carelessly—as he adjusted his cravat—‘and the ministers have been preaching for eighteen centuries, and what have they accomplished? They have only changed the character of sins, occasionally, while the same _amount_ remains.’ ‘True,’ said Monteagle, who was in a condition to be pleased with a congenial mind—‘the Puritans, for instance, were too pure to eat mince pies or kiss a child on Sunday; so they made up for that by murdering Quakers and witches.’ ‘And what are speculators of all kinds but gamblers?’ continued the tempter; ‘forestalling markets, laying up grain, and other necessaries of life to increase the price and wring the last cent from the hard hands of the laboring poor.’ There was so much truth in all this that Monteagle began to entertain a higher opinion than ever of his companion, without reflecting that the man who spoke thus would not scruple to do these very things himself, and much worse. ‘It is as you say,’ returned Monteagle quite warmly—‘your views coincide with mine exactly. It is singular, but I had supposed you to be a man of less reflection and philosophy. I now perceive that you are a man of thought—a—’ ‘Oh! I have my views as well as others, that’s all. You must know that I was intended for a minister, and went to Andover. But come, just for amusement let’s try our luck a little here. You can stop when you please, you know.’ The proposition was rather sudden; Blodget saw the flush that shot into Monteagle’s cheek, and quickly added—‘To be a man of the world it is absolutely necessary to know a little about playing, even if you don’t practice. All the natives play, and let me tell you that a spirited _Margaritta_ regards a young man as a milk-sop who never lost or won a slug.’ Something struck the mind of Monteagle at that moment, and he remained for a couple of minutes in a brown study, and seemed wholly unconscious of the presence of Blodget. The latter turned his face aside and smiled. It was a self-satisfied smile. At length said Monteagle, looking up, ‘How long have you known Mr. Brown, the partner of Vandewater?’ ‘Oh, these dozen years. He and I have met here often.’