n harvest without the tedious
process of tilling and sowing. The instructions commenced there and
then in the pantry; several games were played, nearly all of which Jim
won to his great delight. They only played "for love" this time, Mark
said, but it was difficult to see where the "love" was, except for the
drink, and there was plenty of that. One little favour, however, was
required by the young master, for initiating Jim into the mysteries and
miseries of gambling, and that was that he should lend his instructor
what money he could spare, as Mark happened to be rather short just at
this time. So Jim drew out a part of his legacy from the bank, and
deposited half in Mark's hands; the other half he took with him to the
coachman's cottage. Oh! It was a grand thing to be allowed to sit with
such company, and to hear the wonderful stories of the gentlemen who
condescended to come and place their stores of gold and silver within a
poor footman's reach. What with the tales, and the songs, and the
whisky punch, Jim thought himself the happiest fellow alive the first
night he joined the party, especially when he found himself the winner
of three or four bright sovereigns, which had become his own for the
mere throwing down of a few cards, and a rattle or two of the dice box.
But all was not so pleasant the next morning. Jim awoke with a sick
headache and a sore heart. And what should he do with his winnings? He
would take them to his mother: nay, the very thought stung him like a
serpent. His mother would want to know how he got the gold; or, when he
threw it into her lap, she would say, "The Lord bless you, Jimmy, and
give it you back a hundredfold"; and his sister would clasp her wasted
hands in thankfulness, and he could not bear to think of a mother's
blessing and a sister's prayers over gains that were tainted with the
leprosy of sin. So he kept the money, and the next night of meeting he
lost it, and more besides; and then another night he was a gainer; and
the gambler's thirst grew strong in him. But loss soon followed loss.
His legacy was slipping surely down into the pockets of his new friends.
Cruel! Cruel! Heartless Mark! And oh! The cursed drink! What
meanness is there to which it will not lead its slaves?

And now the night came we have before referred to. John Gubbins sat at
the top of the table; Jim Forbes took his place near him. The spirits
went round; the cards and dice were busy. John Gu