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Borrow, George Henry, 1803-1881

"The Romany Rye"

" 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. This worthy, after looking at the thimble-man a
moment or two, with a peculiarly crafty glance, cried out, as he
clapped down a shilling on the table, "I will stand you, old
fellow!" "Them that finds wins; and them that can't--och, sure!--
they loses," said the thimble-man. The game commenced, and Jack
took up the thimble without finding the pea; another shilling was
produced, and lost in the same manner; "this is slow work," said
Jack, banging down a guinea on the table; "can you cover that, old
fellow?" The man of the thimble looked at the gold, and then at
him who produced it, and scratched his head. "Come, cover that, or
I shall be off," said the jockey. "Och, sure, my lord!--no, I mean
your honour--no, sure, your lordship," said the other, "if I covers
it at all, it must be with silver, for divil a bit of gold have I
by me." "Well, then, produce the value in silver," said the
jockey, "and do it quickly, for I can't be staying here all day.


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