I was very fond of it when young, that is
to say, of hazard, for I hate all _card_ games,--even faro. When macco
(or whatever they spell it) was introduced, I gave up the whole thing,
for I loved and missed the _rattle_ and _dash_ of the box and dice,
and the glorious uncertainty, not only of good luck or bad luck, but
of _any luck at all_, as one had sometimes to throw _often_ to decide
at all. I have thrown as many as fourteen mains running, and carried
off all the cash upon the table occasionally; but I had no coolness,
or judgment, or calculation. It was the delight of the thing that
pleased me. Upon the whole, I left off in time, without being much a
winner or loser. Since one-and-twenty years of age I played but
little, and then never above a hundred, or two, or three."
To this, and other follies of the same period, he alludes in the
following note:--
TO MR. WILLIAM BANKES.
"Twelve o'clock, Friday night.
"My dear Bankes,
"I have just received your note; believe me I regret most sincerely
that I was not fortunate enough to see it before, as I need not repeat
to you that your conversation for half an hour would have been much
more agreeable to me than gambling or drinking, or any other
fashionable mode of passing an evening abroad or at home.--I really am
very sorry that I went out previous to the arrival of your despatch:
in future pray let me hear from you before six, and whatever my
engagements may be, I will always postpone them.
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