first time that old Pritchard had ever neglected to return an answer in course of post, when never so slightly requested. A Had his letter miscarried? Was

Had he been frightened into a

thousand fears assailed him. Pritchard ill, dying, or dead? disclosure to Mrs Beauchamp? And did his MOTHER, at length -did ELLEN-know of his dreadful doings? The thought was too frightful to dwell upon !-thoroughly unnerved, he flew to brandy-fiery fiend, lighting up in the brain the flames of madness!—He scarcely knew how to rest during the interval between breakfast and dinner; for at seven o'clock, he, together with the rest of the infernal crew, were to dine with Apsley. There was to be a strong muster; for one of the decoys had entrapped a wealthy simpleton, who was to make his "first appearance" that evening. After walking, for an hour, to and fro, he set out to call upon me. He was at my house by twelve o'clock. During his stay in town, I had frequently received him in quality of a patient, for his trifling fits of indisposition and low spirits. I had looked upon him merely as a fashionable young fellow, who was upon town" doing his best to earn a little notoriety, such as was sought after by most young men of spirit—and fortune! I also had been able to gather, from what he let fall at several interviews, that the uneven spirits he enjoyed, were owing to his gambling propensities; that his excitement or depression alternated with the good or ill luck he had at play. I felt interest in him; for there was about him an air of ingenuousness and straight-forwardness which captivated every one who spoke with him. His manners had all the ease and blandness of the finished gentleman; and when last I saw him, which was about two months before, he appeared in good health and cheerful spirits a very fine, if not strictly handsome man. But now, when he stood before me, wasted in person, and haggard in feature-full of irritability and petulance-I could scarcely believe him the same man!—I was going to ask him some question or other, when he hastily interrupted me, by extending towards me his two hands, which shook almost like those of a man in the palsy, exclaiming—“ This— this, doctor, is what I have come about. Can you cure THIS— · by six o'clock to-day?" There was a wildness in his manner,

which led me to suspect that his intellect was disordered. He hurried on, before I had time to get in a word-" If you cannot steady my nerves for a few hours, I am he suddenly paused, and, with some confusion, repeated his question. The extravagant impetuosity of his gestures, and his whole demeanour, alarmed me.

"Mr Beauchamp," said I seriously, "it is now two months since you honoured me with a visit; and your appearance since then is wofully changed. Permit me, as a respectful friend, to ask whether ". He rose abruptly from his seat, and, in a tone bordering on insult, replied, "Dr - I came, not to gratify curiosity, but to receive your advice on the state of my health. If you are not disposed to afford it me, I am intruding."

“You mistake me, Mr Beauchamp," I replied calmly, "motives and all. I do not wish to pry into your affairs. I desired only to ascertain whether or not your mind was at ease." While I was speaking, he seemed boiling over with suppressed irritability; and when I had done, he took his hat and stick, flung a guinea on my desk, and, before I could recover from the astonishment his extraordinary behaviour occasioned me, strode out of the room.

How he contrived to pass the day, he never knew; but, about five o'clock, he retired to his dressing-room, to prepare for dinner.* His agitation had reached such a height, that, after several ineffectual attempts to shave himself, he was compelled to send for some one to perform that operation for him. When the duties of the dressing-room were completed, he returned to his sitting-room, took from his escritoire the doomed bank-notes for £5000, and placed them in his pocket-book. A dense film floated before his eyes, when he attempted to look over the respective amounts of the bills, to see that all was correct. He then seized a pack of cards, and tried over and over again to test the accuracy of his calculations. He laid them aside when he had satisfied himself-locked his door, opened his desk, and took out pen and paper. He then, with his penknife, pricked the point of one of his fingers, filled his pen with the blood issuing

* Mr Beauchamp had removed from his hotel into private lodgings near PallMall, about a month before the above-mentioned visit to me.

from it, and wrote, in letters of blood, a solemn oath, that, if he were but successful that evening, in "winning back his own," he would forsake cards and dice for ever, and never again be found within the precincts of a gaming-house, to the latest hour of his life. I have seen that singular and affecting document. The letters, especially those forming the signature, are more like the tremulous handwriting of a man of eighty, than of one but twenty-one! Perceiving that he was late, he hurriedly affixed a black seal to his signature--once more ran his eye over the doomed £5000, and sallied out to dinner.

When he reached Mr Apsley's, he found all the company assembled, apparently in high spirits, and all eager for dinner. You would not have thought of the black hearts that beat beneath such gay and pleasing exteriors as were collected round Apsley's table! Not a syllable of allusion was made during dinner-time to the subject which filled every one's thoughts-play! As if by mutual consent, that seemed the only interdicted topic; but as soon as dinner and dessert, both of them first-rate, were over, a perfectly understood pause took place; and Beauchamp, who, with the aid of frequent draughts of champagne, had worked himself up to the proper pitch, was the first to propose with eagerness the fatal adjournment to the gaming-table. Every one rose in an instant from his seat as if by appointed signal, and in less than five minutes' time, they were all, with closed doors, seated around the tables ;

Here piles of cards, and there the damned dice.

They opened with Hazard. Beauchamp was the first who threw, and he lost; but, as the stake was comparatively trifling, he neither was, nor appeared to be annoyed. He was saving himself for Rouge et Noir !—The rest of the company proceeded with the game, and got gradually into deeper play, till at length heavy betting was begun. Beauchamp, who declined joining them, sat watching, with peculiar feelings of mingled sympathy and contempt, the poor fellow whom the gang were "pigeoning." How painfully it reminded him of his own initiation! A throng of bitter recollections crowded irresistibly through his mind, as he sat for a while with leisure for contemplation. The

silence that was maintained was broken only by the rattling of the dice-box, and an occasional whisper when the dice were thrown.

eager eyes, the Directly oppo

The room in which they were sitting was furnished with splendour and elegance. The walls were entirely concealed beneath valuable pictures in massive and tasteful frames, the gilding of which glistened with a peculiarly rich effect beneath the light of a noble ormolu lamp, suspended from the ceiling. Ample curtains of yellow flowered satin, drawn closely together, concealed the three windows with their rich draperies; and a few Gothic-fashioned bookcases, well filled, were stationed near the corners of the room, with rare specimens of Italian statuary placed upon them. The furniture was all of the most fashionable and elegant patterns; and as the trained eye of Beauchamp scanned it over, and marked the correct taste with which every thing was disposed, the thought forced itself upon him—“How many have been beggared to pay for all this! His heart fluttered. He gazed on the flushed features, the agitated gestures of those who sat at the table. site was Sir Edward Streighton, looking attentively at the caster his fine expansive forehead bordered with slight streaks of black hair, and his large lustrous eyes glancing like lightning from the thrower to the dice, and from the dice to the betters. His features, regular, and once even handsome, bore now the deep traces of long and harrowing anxiety. Oh, that one," thought Beauchamp, "so capable of better things, bearing on his brow nature's signet of superiority, should have sunk intoa swindler!" While these thoughts were passing through his mind, Sir Edward suddenly looked up, and his eyes settled for an instant on Beauchamp. Their expression almost withered him! He thought he was gazing on "the dark and guilty one," who had coldly led him up to ruin's brink, and was waiting to precipitate him. His thoughts then wandered away to long banished scenes- —his aged mother, his ruined forsaken Ellen, both of whom he was beggaring, and breaking their hearts. A mist seemed diffused through the room-his brain reeled; his long-stunned heart revived for a moment, and smote him heavily. "Oh! that I had but an opportunity—never so slight an

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opportunity," he thought, "of breaking from this horrid enthralment, at any cost!" He started from his painful reverie, and stepped to a side-table, on which a large bowl of champagne punch had just been placed, and sought solace in its intoxicating fumes. He resumed his seat at the table; and he had looked on scarcely a few minutes, before he felt a sudden, unaccountable impulse to join in at Hazard. He saw Apsley placing in his pocket-book some bank-notes, which he had that moment received from the poor victim before spoken of—and instantly betted with him heavily on the next throw. Apsley, somewhat surprised, but not ruffled, immediately took him; the dice were thrown, and to his own astonishment, and that of all present, Beauchamp won £300; actually, bona fide, won £300 from Apsley, who, for once, was off his guard! The loser was nettled, and could with difficulty conceal his chagrin; but he had seen, while Beauchamp was in the act of opening his pocket-book, the amount of one or two of his largest bills, and his passion subsided.

At length his hour arrived. Rouge et Noir followed Hazard, and Beauchamp's pulse quickened. When it came to his turn, he took out his pocket-book and coolly laid down stakes which aimed at the bank. Not a word was spoken; but looks of wonder and doubt glanced darkly around the table. What was the fancied manœuvre which Beauchamp now proceeded to practise, I know not; for, thank God, I am ignorant—except on hearsay -of both the principles and practice of gaming. The eagle eye of Apsley, the tailler, was on Beauchamp's every movement. He tried-he LOST, half his large stake! He pressed his hand upon his forehead-he saw that every thing depended on his calmness. The voice of Apsley sounded indistinctly in his ears, calling out "aprés!" Beauchamp suffered his stakes to remain, and be determined by the next event. He still had confidence in his scheme; but, alas! the bubble at length burst, and Beauchamp, in a trice, found himself minus £3000. All hope was now over, for his trick was clearly worth nothing, and he had lost every earthly opportunity of recovering himself. YET HE WENT ONand on-and on-and on ran the losing colour, till Beauchamp lost every thing he had brought with him! He sat down, sunk his head upon his breast, and a ghastly hue overspread his face.