unheeded, so delightfully were they spent over the
pasteboard; and the moon and stars came out; and it was nine o'clock,
and the groom of the chambers announced that supper was ready.

Whilst they sate at that meal, the postboy's twanging horn was heard,
as he trotted into the village with his letter-bag. My lord's bag was
brought in presently from the village, and his letters, which he put
aside, and his newspaper which he read. He smiled as he came to a
paragraph, looked at his Virginian cousin, and handed the paper over
to his brother Will, who by this time was very comfortable, having had
pretty good luck all the evening, and a great deal of liquor.

"Read that, Will," says my lord.

Mr. William took the paper, and, reading the sentence pointed out by his
brother, uttered an exclamation which caused all the ladies to cry out.

"Gracious heavens, William! What has happened?" cries one or the other
fond sister.

"Mercy, child, why do you swear so dreadfully?" asks the young man's
fond mamma.

"What's the matter?" inquires Madame de Bernstein, who has fallen into a
doze after her usual modicum of punch and beer.

"Read it, Parson!" says Mr. William, thrusting the paper over to the
chaplain, and looking as fierce as a Turk.

"Bit, by the Lord!" roars the chaplain, dashing down the paper.

"Cousin Harry, you are in luck," said my lord, taking up the sheet, and
reading from it. "The Six Year Old Plate at Huntingdon was won by Jason,
beating Brilliant, Pytho, and Ginger. The odds were five to four on
Brilliant against the field, three to one against Jason, seven to two
against Pytho, and twenty to one against Ginger."

"I owe you a half-year's income of my poor living, Mr. Warrington,"
groaned the parson. "I will pay when my noble patron settles with me."

"A curse upon the luck!" growls Mr. William; "that comes of betting on a
Sunday,"--and he sought consolation in another great bumper.

"Nay, cousin Will. It was but in jest," cried Harry. "I can't think of
taking my cousin's money."

"Curse me, sir, do you suppose, if I lose, I can't pay?" asks Mr.
William; "and that I want to be beholden to any man alive? That is a
good joke. Isn't it, Parson?"

"I think I have heard better," said the clergyman; to which William
replied, "Hang it, let us have another bowl."

Let us hope the ladies did not wait for this last replenishment of
liquor, for it is certain they had had plenty already during the
evening.