careless tone, "I'll
give you twelve shillings for it. That is two shillings over what you
paid for it--nearly half a dollar.[C] You'd better make sure of half a
dollar than run the risk of losing every thing on such a poor ticket as
that."

[Footnote C: The Colonel meant English shillings, which are twenty-four
cents each in value.]

"Would you?" said Hilbert, turning to Rollo.

"I don't know," replied Rollo, shaking his head. "I don't know any thing
about it."

"No," said Hilbert, turning to the Colonel again; "I believe I will keep
my ticket, and take my chance."

The Colonel said, "Very well; just as you please;" and then went away.
Hilbert had, after this, several other offers, all which he declined;
and in about a quarter of an hour the Colonel met him again, as if
accidentally, and began to talk about his ticket. He said that all the
tickets under 270 were selling at a low price, as almost every body
believed that the ship's run would be more than that; but still, he
said, he would give a pound for Hilbert's ticket, if he wished to sell
it. "Thus," said he, "you'll get back the half sovereign you paid, and
another half sovereign besides, and make sure of it."

But the more the people seemed to wish to buy Hilbert's ticket, the less
inclined he was to part with it. So he refused the Colonel's offer, and
put the card safely away in his wallet. In one sense he was right in
refusing to sell his chance; for as the whole business of making such a
lottery, and buying and selling the tickets afterward, and betting on
the result, is wrong, the less one does about it the better. Every new
transaction arising of it is a new sin. It could easily be shown, by
reasoning on the philosophy of the thing, why it is wrong, if there were
time and space for it here. But this is not necessary, as every man has
a feeling in his own conscience that there is a wrong in such
transactions. It is only bad characters, in general, that seek such
amusements. When others adventure in them a little, they make apologies
for it. They say they are not in the habit of betting, or of venturing
in lotteries, or that they don't approve of it--but will do it this
once. Then, when people lose their money, the chagrin which they feel is
always deepened and imbittered by remorse and self-condemnation; while
the pleasure which those feel who gain is greatly marred by a sort of
guilty feeling, which they cannot shake off, at having taken the money
of