nfortunately, his
constant want of it elicited some strong expression of discontent and
mistrust from him, which excited the loud laughter of the others; but of
which, from his great anxiety in his game, he seemed totally unconscious.

"Faites votre jeu, Messieurs," said the croupier.

"Wait a bit till I change this," said Mr. O'Leary, producing an English
sovereign; the action interpreted his wishes, and the money was converted
into coupons de jeu.

I now discovered one great cause of the mirth of the bystanders, at least
the English portion of them. Mr. O'Leary, when placing his money upon
the table, observed the singular practice of announcing aloud the amount
of his bet, which, for his own information, he not only reduced to
English but also Irish currency; thus the stillness of the room was every
instant broken by a strong Irish accent pronouncing something of this
sort--"five francs," "four and a penny"--"ten francs," "eight and three
ha'pence." The amusement thus caused was increased by the excitement his
losses threw him into. He now ceased to play for several times, when at
last, he made an offering of his usual stake.

"Perd," said the croupier, raking in the piece with a contemptuous air
at the smallness of the bet, and in no way pleased that the interest
Mr. O'Leary excited should prevent the other players from betting.

"Perd," said O'Leary, "again. Divil another song you sing than 'perd,'
and I'm not quite clear you're not cheating all the while--only, God help
you if you are!"

As he so said, the head of a huge black-thorn stick was half protruded
across the table, causing renewed mirth; for, among other regulations,
every cane, however trifling, is always demanded at the door; and thus a
new subject of astonishment arose as to how he had succeeded in carrying
it with him into the salon.

"Here's at you again," said O'Leary, regardless of the laughter, and
covering three or four numbers with his jetons.

Round went the ball once more, and once more he lost.

"Look now, divil a lie in it, he makes them go wherever he pleases. I'll
take a turn now at the tables; fair play's a jewel--and we'll see how
you'll get on."

So saying, he proceeded to insinuate himself into the chair of the
croupier, whom he proposed to supersede by no very gentle means. This
was of course resisted, and as the loud mirth of the bystanders grew more
and more boisterous, the cries of "a la porte, a la porte," from th