From this reverie I was
roused by certain words which sounded near me, uttered in a strange
tone, and in a strange cadence--the words were, "them that finds,
wins; and them that can't find, loses." Turning my eyes in the
direction from which the words proceeded, I saw six or seven
people, apparently all countrymen, gathered round a person standing
behind a tall white table of very small compass. "What!" said I,
"the thimble-engro of--Fair here at Horncastle." Advancing nearer,
however, I perceived that though the present person was a thimble-
engro, he was a very different one from my old acquaintance of--
Fair. 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 formule, "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.
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