The present one was a fellow about half-a-foot taller than the other.

He had a long, haggard, wild face, and was dressed in a kind of jacket, something like that of a soldier, with dirty hempen trousers, and with a foreign-looking peaked hat on his head.

He spoke with an accent evidently Irish, and occasionally changed the usual thimble formula into "them that finds, wins; and them that can't--och, sure!--they loses;" saying also frequently "your honour," instead of "my lord." I observed, on drawing nearer, that he handled the pea and thimble with some awkwardness, like that which might be expected from a novice in the trade.

He contrived, however, to win several shillings--for he did not seem to play for gold--from "their honours." Awkward as he was, he evidently did his best, and never flung a chance away by permitting any one to win.

He had just won three shillings from a farmer, who, incensed at his loss, was calling him a confounded cheat, and saying that he would play no more, when up came my friend of the preceding day, Jack the jockey.