A Ganing Match.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 4124, 22 September 1883, Page 3 (Supplement)

A Ganing Match.

By tlio Right Honourable Benjamin D'laraeli. Uvi.kss tlio loss of an occasional Napoleon at a German watering-place is to be stigmatised, gaming had never formed one of the numerous follies of the Duke of St. James. Rich, and gifted with a generous, Banguine, and luxurious disposition, he had never been tempted by the desire of gain, 01-, as some may perhaps maintain, by the desire of excitement to seek assistance or enjoyment in a mode of life which stultifies all our fino fancies, deadens all our noble emotions, and mortifies all our beautiful aspirations, I know I am broaching a doctrine which many may shirt at, and which soino will protest against, when I declare my belief that no person, whatever be his rank or apparent wealth, ever yet gamed except from the prospect of immediate gain. We hear much of the want of excitement, of ennui, of satiety ; and then the gaming table i.s announced as a sort of substitute for opium, wine, or any other mode of obtaining a more intense vitality at the cost of reason. And our young Duke, I must confess, gamed, as all oilier men have gamed—for money. His satiety hail (led the moment his affairs werocmbaiTasecl. The thought suddenly came into his head while Ba^shot was speaking. Ho determined to recover. And so completely was it a matter of business with him that he reasoned that in the present state of affairs a few thousands more would not signify; that these few thousand)) might lead to vast results, and that, if they did, ho would bid adieu to the gaming' table with the same coolness with which lie had saluted it.

T!ie yoxmg Duke had accepted the invitation of the Baron do Berghein for to-morrow, and accordingly himself, Lords Castlefort, and Dice, and Temple Grace assembled in Brunswick Terrace at the usual hour. After dinner, with the exception of Cogit, who was busy compounding some wonderful liquid for the future refreshment, they sat down to teiirte. Without having said a word upon the subject, there Si emed to be a general understanding among all the parties that to-night was to be a pitched battle, and they began at once briskly. Yet, in spite of their determination, midnight arrived without anything very decisive. Supper was brought in. The Duke had thousands for at present his resources were unimpaired. He went to the side of the table and began cutting himself some roast beef. Tom Cogitran up, not to his Grace, but to the Baron, to «unuunod the shocking fact that the Duke of St. .James was enduring great trouble ; and then the Baron asked his Grace to permit Mr Cogit to servo him. Our hero devoured—l use the word advisedly as fools say in the House of Commons. They set to again, fresh as eagles. At six o'clock they stopped to make up books. Nothing fatalhadhappened yet. The Duke owed Lord Dice £5.000, and Temple Grace owed him as many hundreds. Lord Castlefort also was his debtor to the tune of £750, and the Baron was in his books but slightly. Every half hour they had a new pack of cards. Tom Cogit did nothing but snuff the candles, stir the fire, bring them a new pack, and occasionally make a tumbler for them. At eight o'clock the Duke's situation was worsened. His losses were doubled. He pulled up the next kour or two. No one offered to give over. They made their toilets, and went downstairs to breakfast ; the room meanwhile being aired. They met in less than an hour, and were at it again. They played without intermission until dinner time ; the Duke made some terrible efforts, but his losses were nevertheless trebled. Yet ho ate an excellent dinner, and was not at all depressed. At first his limit was £10,000 ; after breakfast, £'20,000 : then it was said to be £30,000, and now he determined to risk or gain everything. At midnight lie haji lost £45,000. Affairs now began to bo serious. His supper was not so hearty, and he began to limit his ambition to recovery and not to gain. On they played, the Duke lost more. His mind was jaded, he floundered. He acted on each card as if it must win, and the consequences were that his losses were prodigious (for a gamester at such a crisis is really insane). Another morning came, and there they sat: no attempt to breakfast, no toilette, or airing room. There was not a man in the room, except Tom Cogit, who could have told you the name of the town they were living in. There they sat almost breathless, watching every turn with the fell look in their cannibal eyes. All forms of society had long been forgotten. Ko snuff-box handed over now. No remark upon any other topic, but the all-engrossing one. Lord Castlefort rested with his arms upon the table—a false tooth had got unhinged. His Lordship, who at any other time would have been most annoyed, coolly put it in his pocket. His cheeks had fallen, and he looked twenty years older. Lord Dice had torn off his cravat, and his hair hung down over his callous, bloodless checks, straight as silk. Temple Grace looked us if he Mas blighted by lightning, and his deep-blue eyes gleamed like a hyena. The Baron was least_ changed. Tom Cogit, who smelt that a crisis was at hand, was as quiet as a bribed rat. On they played till six o'clock in the evening.and then they agreed to stop for dinner. While they were resting on their oar.--, the young Duke roughly made up his accounts. He found he was minus about £100,000. As lie looked utkjij his fellow.gamesters, be seemed to gaze upon some of those hideous demons of which we read. He looked in the mirror at himself. A blight seemed to have fallen over his beauty, and his presence seemed accursed. What! was it possible ?—it could not, be- ■ that in time he was to be like those awful, those unearthly, those unhallowed things around him ? He felt as if he had fallen from his state. He felt a criminal. In the darkness of his meditntionsn (lash burst upon his lurid mind. He thought of May Dacre. He thought of everything that was pure and holy, and beautiful, and calm, and luminous. His losses seemed nothing. He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to play no more. There was an immediate stir. All jumped up, and now the deed was done. Cant, in spite of their exaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him to have his revenge—were quite annoyed at the result—had no doubt he would recover if he proceeded. Without noticing their remarks, he seated himself at the table and wrote cheques for their respective amounts, Tom Cogit jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castlefort, in the most affectionate manner, pocketed the draft, at the same time recommending the Duke not to be in a hurry, but to send it when he was cool. Lord Dice received his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh, the Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him his revenge. The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the room with any evidence of a broken spirit; and when Lord Castlefort again repeated, "Pay us when we meet again," he said, "I think it very improbable that we shall meet again, my lord. I wished to know what gaming woe. I had heard a great deal about it. It is not so very disgusting ; but lam a young man, and cannot play tricks with my complexion." He reached his house. He gave orders that he was not to be disturbed, and he went to bed. But in vain he tried to sleep. What rack exceeds the tortures of an excited

brain and an exhausted body? His hands and feet are like ice, his brow like lire ; his ears rung with supernatural roaring, and death he would have welcomed. In vain he tried to wile himself to slumber; each minute he started from his pillow with some phrase which reminded him of his late fearful society. It was at length morning. With a feeling that he should •;o mad if he remained in bed, he rose, and paced his chamber. The air refreshed him, lie threw himself on the floor ; the cold crept over his senses, and ho slept.