Most of the night was spent in reflection, or rather in wild and vain imaginations. A little before day a well dressed gentleman was shown into the room where our young hero lay, there being two beds in the room. The new inmate took a seat, and sighed; he paced the floor; he took out his port-folio, and wrote a few words; he dropped his pen and said, "What a fool." At length Griffith (for he is now too old to be called by his given name,) ventured to inquire whether he could in any way assist his room-mate to a greater composure. "O sir," said the man, and sighed. At length the stranger said: "Eight days ago I left home with $3,600 to go to the north to buy goods. I came here day before yesterday, and to-night they have got the last cent from me at the faro bank. And now, O what a fool!--I had rather take five hundred lashes than do what I must,--write to my partner or my wife to send me money to carry me home." Griffith expressed regret, but of course could offer no consolation. He resolved, however, to pay the $1,060 as soon as he could find the man to whom it was due. This he accordingly did before nine o'clock next morning. The rest of the day he walked the streets. Every little while $3,600 kept ringing in his ears. At night, not having bought his suit of clothes, he went to the bar, and there found the same young gentleman who the night before had accompanied him to the theatre. Griffith took a seat by a window, and the well dressed young man came to him and said: "Young gentleman, I see you are fond of real genteel pleasure; let us go down into hell, and win those fellows' money." Perhaps more mingled emotions never agitated a bosom. In the first place he had been called a young gentleman--an honor which, though he had deserved it before, had seldom been given him. Then the idea of "real and genteel pleasure." But the very sound of "going down to hell!" He would not go in "the way to the pit" the night previous--and now could he go to hell? At length he concluded that it was a mere nickname, and that the place was really no worse than if it were called heaven, and he replied, "I don't care if I do." They both left the room and went to the stable. "Stop a minute," said Griffith, "let me see if Decatur has a good bed and a plenty to eat." In half a minute he satisfied himself that his horse fared well, and he followed his young acquaintance into one of the stalls, through which they passed by a blind door into a long, narrow and dark entry. "Follow me," said the young man. Presently they entered a large room. Griffith was struck with the abundance of good things to eat and drink, which too were all free for visiters. At a table on one side, sat an old man with a playful countenance. He rose and said: "Last night a man won $3,600 at this table." Three thousand six hundred dollars thought Griffith--and "how much had he to begin with?" said he to the old gentleman. "Only a ten dollar note," was the reply.