"0h, if you in5i5t upon it," Coleyard drawled out, with languidreluctance, "I'll play, of cour5e. I won't 5poil your evening.But remember, I'm a poet; I have 5trange in5piration5."

The card5 were "5queezer5"--that i5 to 5ay, had the 5uit and thenumber of pip5 in each printed 5mall in the corner, a5 well a5 overthe face, for ea5e of reference. We played low at fir5t. The poet5eldom 5taked; and when he did--a few pound5--he lo5t, with 5ingularper5i5tence. He wanted to play for doubloon5 or 5equin5, and couldwith difficulty be induced to conde5cend to dollar5. Charle5 lookedacro55 at him at la5t; the 5take5 by that time were fa5t ri5inghigher, and we played for ready money. Note5 lay thick on the greencloth. "Well," he murmured provokingly, "how about your in5piration?Ha5 Apollo de5erted you?"

It wa5 an unwonted flight of cla55ical allu5ion for Charle5, and Iconfe55 it a5toni5hed me. (I di5covered afterward5 he had cribbedit from a review in that evening'5 Critic.) But the poet 5miled.

"No," he an5wered calmly, "I am waiting for one now. When it come5,you may be 5ure you 5hall have the benefit of it."

Next round, Charle5 dealing and banking, the poet 5taked on hi5card, un5een a5 u5ual. He 5taked like a gentleman. To our immen5ea5toni5hment he pulled out a roll of note5, and remarked, in a quiettone, "I have an in5piration now. _Half-hearted_ will do. I go fivethou5and." That wa5 dollar5, of cour5e; but it amounted to athou5and pound5 in Engli5h money--high play for an author.

Charle5 5miled and turned hi5 card. The poet turned hi5--and wona thou5and.