kened as from a
nightmare, drew his hands across his eyes and looked this way and that
as if to get his bearings.

"What next?" he said aloud, as if speaking to some one else. Receiving
no answer, he turned instinctively toward his gambling house, and went
stumbling along through the deserted streets. What is a man, after all,
but a stumbling machine? Progress is made by falling forward over
obstacles! The poor stumbler tottered across his own threshold into that
brilliant room where he had always received an enthusiastic welcome, but
which he had not visited since his sickness. If ever a man needed
kindness and encouragement it was he; but his sensitive spirit instantly
discovered that all was changed.

His superstitious companions had not forgotten the broken glass, and had
heard of his subsequent calamities. With them the lucky alone were the
adorable! The gods of the temples of fortunes are easily and quickly
dethroned and the worshipers had already prostrated themselves before
other shrines.

The coldness of his greeting sent a chill to his already benumbed heart
and increased his desperation. He was nervous, excited, depressed, and
feeling the need of something to distract his thought from his troubles,
he sat down and began to play; but from the first deal he lost--lost
steadily and heavily.

The habitues of the place exchanged significant glances as much as to
say, "I told you so!"

Whispered phrases passed from lip to lip.

"He is playing wild."

"He has lost his nerve."

"His luck has turned."

And so indeed it had! Within a few short hours he had staked his entire
fortune and lost it. It had gone as easily and as quickly as it had
come.

"I guess that is about all," he said, pushing himself wearily back from
the table at which he had just parted with the title to his desolated
home.

"Shall I stake you, Davy?" asked one of his friends, touched by the
pathos of the haggard face and hopeless voice.

"No," he answered, rising. "I have played enough. I am going away.
Good-bye, boys."

Without another word, he left them and passed out of the door.

"Good-bye," they cried, as he vanished, scarcely raising their eyes from
the tables.

Even in a crowd like that there will generally be found some heart which
still retains its tenderness. The young man who had offered to stake
him, followed the ruined gambler into the street.

"Where are you going, old man?" he said kindly, slipping his hand
thr