the headquarters, I will dine with the Count de Cameran, and I will invite him to supper." "Where?" said Matta. "You are mad, my poor friend," replied Matta. "This is some such project as you formed at Lyons: you know we have neither money nor credit; and to re-establish our circumstances you intend to give a supper.' "Stupid fellow!" said the chevalier: "is it possible that, so long as we have been acquainted, you should have learned no more invention? The Count de Cameran plays at quinze, and so do I: we want money; he has more than he knows what to do with: I will bespeak a splendid supper; he shall pay for it. Send your maître-d'hôtel to me, and trouble yourself no farther, except in some precautions which it is necessary to take on such an occasion." "What are they?" said Matta. "I will tell you," said the chevalier; "for I find one must explain to you things that are as clear as noonday. You command the guards that are here, don't you? As soon as night comes on, you shall order fifteen or twenty men under the command of your serjeant La Place to be under arms, and to lay themselves flat on the ground between this place and the headquarters." "What the devil!" cried Matta; "an ambuscade? God forgive me, I believe you intend to rob the poor Savoyard. If that be your intention, I declare I will have nothing to do with it." "Poor devil!" said the chevalier: "the matter is this: it is very likely that we shall win his money. The Piedmontese, though otherwise good fellows, are apt to be suspicious and distrustful. He commands the horse; you know you cannot hold your tongue, and are very likely to let slip some jest or other that may vex him. Should he take it into his head that he is cheated, and resent it, who knows what the consequences might be? for he is commonly attended by eight or ten horsemen. Therefore, however he may be provoked at his loss, it is proper to be in such a situation as not to dread his resentment." "Embrace me, my dear chevalier," said Matta, holding his sides and laughing: " embrace me, for thou art not to be matched. What a fool was I to think, when you talked to me of taking precautions, that nothing more was necessary than to prepare a table and cards, or perhaps to provide some false dice! I should never have thought of supporting a man who plays at quinze by a detachment of foot; I must indeed confess that you are already a great soldier." The next day everything happened as the Chevalier Gramont had planned it; the unfortunate Cameran fell into the snare. They supped in the most agreeable manner possible; Matta drank five or six bumpers to drown a few scruples which made him somewhat uneasy. The Chevalier de Gramont shone as usual, and almost made his guest die with laughing, whom he was soon after to make very serious; and the good-natured Cameran ate like a man whose affections were divided between good cheer and a love of play;- that is to say, he hurried down his victuals, thet he might not lose any of the precious time which he had devoted to quinze. Supper being done, the serjeant La Place posted his ambuscade and the Chevalier de Gramont engaged his man. The perfidy of Cerise and the high crowned hat were still fresh in remembrance, and enabled him to get the better of a few grains of remorse and conquer some scruples which arose in his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of violated hospitality, sat down in an easy-chair in order to fall asleep, while the chevalier was stripping the poor count of his money. They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for amusement; but Cameran having lost three or four times, he staked high, and the game became serious. He still lost, and became outrageous; the cards flew about the room, and the exclamations awoke Matta. As his head was heavy with sleep and hot with wine, he began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmontese instead of consoling him. "Faith, my poor count," said he, "if I was in your place, I would play no more." "Why so?" said the other. "I don't know," said he; "but my heart tells me that your ill luck will continue." "I will try that," said Cameran, calling for fresh cards. "Do so," said Matta, and fell asleep again: it was but for a short time. All cards were equally unfortunate for the loser. He held none but tens or court cards; and if by chance he had quinze, he was sure to be the younger hand, and therefore lost it. Again he stormed. "Did not I tell you so?" said Matta, starting out of his sleep: "All your storming is in vain; as long as you play you will lose. Believe me, the shortest follies are the best. Leave off, for the Devil take me if it is possible for you to win.” "Why?" said Cameran, who began to be impatient. "Do you wish to know?" said Matta: "why, faith, it is because we are cheating you." The Chevalier de Gramont, provoked at so ill-timed a jest, more especially as it carried along with it some appearance of truth: "M. Matta," said he, "do you think it can be very agreeable for a man who plays with such ill-luck as the count to be pestered with your insipid jests? For my part, I am so weary of the game that I would desist immediately, if he was not so great a loser." Nothing is more dreaded by a losing gamester than such a threat; and the count in a softened tone told the chevalier that M. Matta might say what he pleased, if he did not offend him; that as to himself, it did not give him the smallest uneasiness. The Chevalier de Gramont gave the count far better treatment than he himself had experienced from the Swiss at Lyons, for he played upon credit as long as he pleased; which Cameran took so kindly that he lost fifteen hundred pistoles, and paid them the next morning. As for Matta, he was severely reprimanded for the intemperance of his tongue. All the reason he gave for his conduct was, that he made it a point of conscience not to suffer the poor Savoyard to be cheated without informing him of it."Besides," said he, "it would have given me pleasure to have seen my infantry engaged with his horse, if he had been inclined to mischief." This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune favored them the remainder of the campaign; and the Chevalier de Gramont, to prove that he had only seized upon the count's effects by way of reprisal, and to indemnify himself for the losses he had sustained at Lyons, began from this time to make the same use of his money that he has been known to do since upon all occasions. He found out the distressed, in order to relieve them officers who had lost their equipage in the war, or their money at play; soldiers who, were disabled in the trenches; in short, every one felt the influence of his benevolence, but his manner of conferring a favor exceeded even the favor itself. VOL. X. - 37 ELIZABETH HAMILTON. HAMILTON, ELIZABETH, an Irish miscellaneous writer; born at Belfast, 1758; died at Harrogaté, England, 1816. Her first serious work, "The Letters of a Hindoo Rajah" (2 vols.), appeared in 1796. "The Modern Philosophers" (1800) was followed by "Memoirs of Agrippina" and "Letters to the Daughters of a Nobleman." The best of her works, "The Cottagers of Glenburnie," was published in 1808. MY AIN FIRESIDE. I HAE seen great anes, and sat in great ha's At feasts made for princes wi' princes I've been, When the grand shine o' splendor has dazzled my een; As the bonny blithe blink o' my ain fireside. My ain fireside, my ain fireside; O cheery's the blink o' my ain fireside; My ain fireside, my ain fireside, O there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside. Ance mair, gude be thankit, round my ain heartsome ingle, Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or glad, I may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh when I'm sad. Nae falsehood to dread, and nae malice to fear, But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer; Ther's nane half so sure as ane's ain fireside. My ain fireside, my ain fireside; O there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside. |