“I’ll blay you guineas dis time,” says the Baron.  “Zeven to four you must give me though.”  And so I did:  and in ten minutes that game was won, and the Baron handed over his pounds.  “Two hundred and sixty more, my dear, dear Coxe,” says the Count:  “you are mon ange gardien!” “Wot a flat Misther Coxsh is, not to back his luck,” I hoard Abednego whisper to one of the foreign noblemen.

“I’ll take your seven to four, in tens,” said I to the Baron.  “Give me three,” says he, “and done.”  I gave him three, and lost the game by one.  “Dobbel, or quits,” says he.  “Go it,” says I, up to my mettle:  “Sam Coxe never says no;” and to it we went.  I went in, and scored eighteen to his five.  “Holy Moshesh!” says Abednego, “dat little Coxsh is a vonder! who’ll take odds?”

“I’ll give twenty to one,” says I, “in guineas.”

“Ponays; yase, done,” screams out the Count.

“BONIES, done,” roars out the Baron:  and, before I could speak, went in, and—­would you believe it?—­in two minutes he somehow made the game!

*****

Oh, what a figure I cut when my dear Jemmy heard of this afterwards!  In vain I swore it was guineas:  the Count and the Baron swore to ponies; and when I refused, they both said their honor was concerned, and they must have my life, or their money.  So when the Count showed me actually that, in spite of this bet (which had been too good to resist) won from me, he had been a very heavy loser by the night; and brought me the word of honor of Abednego, his Jewish friend, and the foreign noblemen, that ponies had been betted;—­why, I paid them one thousand pounds sterling of good and lawful money.—­But I’ve not played for money since:  no, no; catch me at that again if you can.

A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA.

No lady is a lady without having a box at the Opera:  so my Jemmy, who knew as much about music,—­bless her!—­as I do about Sanscrit, algebra, or any other foreign language, took a prime box on the second tier.  It was what they called a double box; it really could hold two, that is, very comfortably; and we got it a great bargain—­for five hundred a year!  Here, Tuesdays and Saturdays, we used regularly to take our places, Jemmy and Jemimarann sitting in front; me, behind:  but as my dear wife used to wear a large fantail gauze hat with ostrich feathers, birds-of-paradise, artificial flowers, and tags of muslin or satin, scattered all over it, I’m blest if she didn’t fill the whole of the front of the box; and it was only by jumping and dodging, three or four times in the course of the night, that I could manage to get a sight of the actors.  By kneeling down, and looking steady under my darling Jemmy’s sleeve, I did contrive, every now and then, to have a peep of Senior Lablash’s boots, in the “Puritanny,” and once actually saw Madame Greasi’s crown and head-dress in “Annybalony.”