"It's mighty nice for philosophers, on three courses and a dessert, to talk about the uses of adversity being sweet; but if they'll thry a genuine sample of it, say a can of poorhouse soup (biling dish-wather, flavoured with a farthing rushlight to the gallon), perhaps they would alther their opinions a _leetle_. However, there's no need for these reflections now. How did the Leger serve you?—I lost (that was of very little consequence)—but I didn't win, and that _was_, as I was entirely without funds just thin. Well, I wint to ould——'s, at night (having transmogrified what odd togs I could muster into cash, by the assistance of _my father's brother_), and if it had been '_vingt un_,' or '_loo_,' we were playing, my fortune would have been made, for I got aces by the baker's dozen. But at hazard they're not the thing: so I was turned inside out as clane as a pudden-bag—indeed rather claner, as they got out of me about four times as much as ever I contained. Whin I rose to lave the house (who was to stay there with such a run against him?), the blaggards objected to my taking my Macintosh and hat with me, bad luck to them! and so I had to return home as classically undressed as William the Third in College Green. A man without hat or coat, however, isn't so well thought of now-a-days as among the ancient Romans; and, as misfortunes never come alone, without half a score to keep them company, I found my credit at the hotel had gone to look after that which I left at ould——'s hazard-table. No gentleman should ever demane himself by running the risk of a notice to quit; so, instead of stopping at the race-ground next morning, I walked quietly on to Newark. It's raly a purty walk from Doncaster to Liverpool—that is to say, for those who are fond of pedesthrian exercise—_I_ like riding better; and so I wasn't sorry whin I seen the Mersey rowling away on my right. Having left my body-coat in pledge for the last night's lodging, I had to borry one that was hanging on a stick in a pay-field, and as my shoes had given in at Norman Cross, I was not just the cut for a fashionable hotel. A bit of an ague I was lucky enough to pick up at Grantham, however, qualified me for a berth in the hospital, where I remained till I was convalescent—which manes on the brink of the grave; so I left, to save them the trouble of burying me. There's no stepping from the pier-head at Liverpool to the North Wall here, so that there was nothing left for it but an application, in form of a distriss'd Irish agriculturist, to the export committee, and they furnished me with a pass for the hould of a steamer, and a fourpenny loaf for sea-store. If our passage hadn't been a bad one, I should have done well enough; but my provision was out before we reached the Orme's Head, and I was ready to ate my brogues whin I caught sight of you. Never mind! worse luck now—better another time; as Shakspeare says—'Life's a stage, and every man plays many