"Senator, Senator," said Van Rensselaer reproachfully, "I am surprised.
I didn't think you would go back on the sentiments you so warmly
espoused a few moments ago. Let us avoid so agitating a topic.
Personally," continued he, slowly and dreamily, as if going into a
trance, "I have no objection to the game. I have played it myself,
though I do not pose as an expert. Coming over on the steamer last
summer--'twas the night before we landed--the game was steep, painfully
steep, and nothing friendly about it, with the lid off finally. I was
about two thousand to the bad,--it was the consolation round, ending
with and up to me,--my deal, and the fellows counting and stacking their
chips preparatory to cashing in. I doled the papes with deliberation,
and a saddened soul, and skinned my hand carefully. They were
hearts--all but one. A seven, four, six, five and a trey of clubs.
That's the way they came to me. A nice little straight, but apparently
not nice enough. All the fellows stayed, and there was considerable
hoisting before the draw. Then the man next to me took one card; the
Englishman with the monocle, two; General Thomas, one; the fat man from
Cincinnati, three (to his aces), and Doctor McNab stood pat; and then
discarding the trey of clubs--foolhardy, very foolhardy, but I did it--I
dealt myself one--the eight of hearts! My, how good I felt! The battle
was on! Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, until one by one
the players dropped out, leaving the Doctor and myself to settle it.
Doctor McNab saw my three thousand and raised me five.

"Five better," said I.

"Back at you," said he; the others in the meanwhile keeping tab in their
notebooks.

"Once again," said I.

"And again," said he.

"That was about all I could stand, and I called him. With a leer of
triumph he threw his hand on the table, face-up, displaying----"

"Stop him, stop him!" shouted Mr. Ridley, rising excitedly. "Don't let
him take the money! If I'd a knowed you at the time, brother, it never
would a happened! I'd a put you wise to that McNab. He ain't no more
doctor than I am, and his name ain't McNab either! The scar-faced son of
a gun! I've been up against him, and so has Bull; ain't you, Nathan?"

"Poker stories are barred, I believe," said the Senator coldly.

Mr. Ridley's face was a study.

"Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered, with his mouth full of potatoes.
"Let's change the subject; there are lots of other things to talk