in our military code of education.

The gallant --th Light Dragoons were a "fast regiment," and the inventors
of that new locomotive on the road to ruin called a "mess breakfast,"--a
meal where champagne flows with a profusion rarely seen at dinner, and
by which men begin the day in a frame of mind that would not be very
decorous even when concluding it. Cashel, being an honored guest, drank
wine with every one, not to speak of participating in various little
bibatory trios and quartets, so that when the entertainment drew to a
close he was very far from that self-possession and command which, with
all his high spirits, seldom deserted him.

A tremendous fall of rain, that showed no prospect of ceasing, had just
set in, so that the party agreed to repair to the major's rooms, and
make a pool at ecarte. After some talking about play in general, and
some quizzing about not being able to bet a sum such as Cashel would
care to play for, the game began.

Notwithstanding the apologies, the play was high, so much so, that
Cashel, never a very shrewd observer, could not help remarking that
several of the players could not conceal the anxiety the game inspired.

Roland himself joined less from inclination than fellowship, and far
better pleased to be at liberty to chat with some of the others than to
be seated at the table, he arose each time he lost, well content to pay
for freedom by his gold. His natural indifference, added to a perfect
carelessness about money, induced him to accept any bet that was
offered, and these were freely proposed, since, in play _parlance_, "the
run was against him;" so that, ere the trumpet-call announced the time
to dress for the mess, he had lost heavily.

"You have no idea how much you have lost?" said Linton, in a low voice,
and with a gravity of manner almost reproachful.

"Not the slightest," said Cashel, laughing.

"I can tell you, then, for I have totted it up. This morning's work has
cost you seven thousand some hundred pounds."

"Indeed!" said Cashel, a flush rather of shame than displeasure mantling
on his features. "I'll give it up in future."

"No, no! not till you've had your revenge," whispered Linton. "We 'll
stay for the mess, and have at them again. The night is terrific, and no
possibility of leaving."

The mess followed, and although play was to succeed it, the party drank
freely, and sat long over their wine; even Linton himself seemed to
linger at the table, and l