which
sounded near me, uttered in a strange tone, and in a strange cadence--the
words were, "Them that finds, wins; and them that can't finds, loses."
Turning my eyes in the direction from which the words proceeded, I saw
six or seven people, apparently all countrymen, gathered round a person
standing behind a tall white table of very small compass. "What!" said
I, "the thimble-engro of . . . Fair here at Horncastle." Advancing
nearer, however, I perceived that though the present person was a thimble-
engro, he was a very different one from my old acquaintance of . . .
Fair. The present one was a fellow about half-a-foot taller than the
other. He had a long, haggard, wild face, and was dressed in a kind of
jacket, something like that of a soldier, with dirty hempen trousers, and
with a foreign-looking peaked hat on his head. He spoke with an accent
evidently Irish, and occasionally changed the usual thimble formula into
"them that finds, wins; and them that can't--och, sure!--they loses;"
saying also frequently "your honour," instead of "my lord." I observed,
on drawing nearer, that he handled the pea and thimble with some
awkwardness, like that which might be expected from a novice in the
trade. He contrived, however, to win several shillings--for he did not
seem to play for gold--from "their honours." Awkward as he was, he
evidently did his best, and never flung a chance away by permitting any
one to win. He had just won three shillings from a farmer, who, incensed
at his loss, was calling him a confounded cheat, and saying that he would
play no more, when up came my friend of the preceding day, Jack the
jockey. This worthy, after looking at the thimble man a moment or two,
with a peculiarly crafty glance, cried out, as he clapped down a shilling
on the table, "I will stand you, old fellow!" "Them that finds, wins;
and them that can't--och, sure!--they loses," said the thimble man. The
game commenced, and Jack took up the thimble without finding the pea;
another shilling was produced, and lost in the same manner. "This is
slow work," said Jack, banging down a guinea on the table; "can you cover
that, old fellow?" The man of the thimble looked at the gold, and then
at him who produced it, and scratched his head. "Come, cover that, or I
shall be off," said the jockey. "Och, shure, my lord!--no, I mean your
honour--no, shure, your lordship," said the other, "if I covers it at
all, it must be with silver, fo