In Richmond,
especially, the play never was so desperate and deep. It is unnecessary
to say towards which side the sympathies and interests of the mercurial
guild tend. The cunning Yankee was ever too prudent to risk much of his
hard-earned gold on the chance of a card, fairly or unfairly turned: it
is only the planter, on whom wealth flows in while he sleeps, that
tempts Fortune with a daring, near which the recklessness of the Regency
seems cautious and tame.
It is not strange that the captive knight should accept his present
position so cheerfully. Here, he enjoys every luxury that money can buy,
and whithersoever he may be consigned, he is sure to fall on his feet;
for it matters little to those cosmopolites on what spot of earth their
vagrant tents are pitched. Neither is he of the stuff that is likely
indefinitely to be detained: even this jealous Government need not fear
to let such an enemy go free. My comrade--not innocent or unmindful of
past losses at _faro_--contemplating the gay cavalier with no loving
glance, growls out, "They won't bother themselves with that rubbish
long."
There is another figure, quite picturesquely repulsive, which will
attract you more than if it were pleasant to look upon. A man,
exceedingly old, stout, and lame, with red, savage eyes, and a scowl
that never lightens or breaks: it would be an equine injustice to
compare his head to a horse's; that of many a thoroughbred measures less
in superficial inches.
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