UNFORTUNATE WINNING.
M. G — me was a most estimable man, combining in himself the
best qualities of both heart and head. He was good-humoured,
witty, and benevolent. With these qualifications, and one other
which seldom operates to a man's disadvantage — a clear income of
three thousand a year — the best society in Paris was open to him.
He had been a visitor in that capital about a month, when he
received an invitation to one of the splendid dinners given
weekly at the salon. As he never played, he hesitated
about the propriety of accepting it, but on the assurance that it
would not be expected of him to play; and, moreover, as he might
not again have so good an opportunity of visiting an
establishment of the kind, he resolved to go — merely for the
satisfaction of his curiosity. He had a few stray napoleons in
his purse, to throw them — `just for the good of the house,' as he
considered it — could hardly be called play, so he threw
them. Poor fellow! He left off a winner of fourteen hundred
napoleons, or about as many
pounds sterling —
and so easily won! He went again, again, and again; but he was
not always a winner; and within fifteen months of the moment when
his hand first grasped the dice-box he was lying dead in a jail!
