I GAVE OVER CARD-PLAYING.

Like most men who are not saints, I had the natural instinct for
gambling, without any passion for it; but soon found the necessity for
suppressing my inclination for cards, lest it should interfere with my
legitimate profession. It was necessary to abandon the indulgence, or
abandon myself to its temptations.

I owe my determination never to play again at cards to the bad luck
which befell me on a particular occasion at Ascot on the Cup Day of
the year 18--. I was at that time struggling to make my way in my
profession, and carefully storing up my little savings for the
proverbial rainy day.

Having been previously to the Epsom summer races, and had such
extraordinary good luck, nothing but a severe reverse would have
induced me to take the step I did. Good luck is fascinating, and
invariably leads us on, with bad luck sometimes close behind.

I went to Epsom with my dear old friend Charley Wright, and we soon
set to work in one of the booths to make something towards our
fortunes at _rouge et noir_. The booth was kept by a man who
seemed--to me, at all events--to be the soul of honour. I had no
reason to speak otherwise than well of him, for I staked a half-crown
on the black, and won two half-crowns every time, or nearly every
time.

I thought it a most excellent game, and with less of the element of
chance or skill in it than any game I ever played. My pockets were
getting stuffed with half-crowns, so that they bulged, and caused me
to wonder if I should be allowed to leave the racecourse alive, for
there were many thieves who visited the Downs in those days.

But my friend Charley was with me, and I knew he would be a pretty
trustworthy fellow in a row. This, however, was but a momentary
thought, for I was too much engrossed in the game and in my good luck
to dwell on possibilities. Nor did I interest myself in Charley's
proceedings, but took it for granted that a game so propitious to me
was no less so to him. He was playing with several others; who or
what they were was of no moment to me. I pursued my game quietly, and
picked up my half-crowns with great gladness and with no concern for
those who had lost them.

Presently, however, my attention was momentarily diverted by hearing
Charley let off a most uncontrollable "D--n!"

"What's the matter, Charley?" I asked, without lifting my head.

"Matter!" says Charley; "rooked--that's all!"

"Rooked! That's very extraordinary