go at once with these soldiers to their army. He had learned from their talk, that they belonged to the other party, where no one would know him; and having disposed of his demon, he was now well pleased, destitute as he was of money, and unlucky as his experiment in war had been, to hazard his life on any adventure of promise. He expressed his desire, they consented to what he proposed, and he went with his new companions to their camp.

CHAPTER V.

RESORT TO DICE. FIVE HALF-PENCE AND FIVE CARTRIDGES. THE RICHEST MAN IN THE WORLD PERISHING

FOR WANT OF A FARTHING.

THE captain made little or no difficulty in receiving a young fellow of so fine a form and so muscular a frame, as Richard, and he now passed his life for some time as a foot-soldier. But still he was often a prey to dejection and grief. Ever since the last engagement, the two armies had lain inactive over against each other, as a treaty of peace was on foot between the two states. He was not now, to be sure, exposed to the danger of death, but at the same time he had just as little opportunity of plunder and booty. He was obliged to live within the camp in peaceful inaction, his pay very slender, and his portion of food equally small. In addition to these circumstances, most of the soldiers had possessed themselves of considerable plunder during the progress of the war; and Richard, who, as a merchant, had fared so sumptuously as almost to rival the luxury of kings, was now compelled to make shift, as it were, with the scanty subsistence of a beggar. This was a kind of life, of which he was naturally enough soon weary; and when he one day held in his hand his pittance of wages for a month, too little to support him in comfort, too much to hazard for nothing at all, he resolved to go to the sutler's tent, and see whether dice would not be more propitious to him, than business and war had hitherto been.

Richard's course of playing discovered the usual vari

ation

ety of fortune: now winning, and then losing, he continued at the gaming table till late at night, by which time he had become not a litle intoxicated. But at last every throw of the dice went against him in his present condition; his month's wages were all played away, and no one would give him credit for even a half-penny. He then rummaged all his pockets, and finding them empty, he at last opened his cartridge-box, where was nothing but cartridges. He produced these, and offered them as a stake; they were accepted, and the moment the dice. rolled upon the table, the tipsy Richard saw for the first time, that the same soldier had thrown upon them, who had some time before purchased his imp-vial of him, and who without doubt would now become the winner of them. He would have cried out, "Hold!" but the dice were already thrown, and had decided in favour of his opponent. He left the company with curses on his lips, and returned toward his tent amid the darkness of night. A comrade, who had also lost his money in gambling, but who had kept himself more sober, took him by the arm.

As they walked along, the man asked him whether he still had cartridges provided in his tent. "No," cried Richard, almost maddened with rage; "had I the means yet in my power, be assured I would return and play longer."

"Ah, is that the case?" replied his comrade; "then you must contrive to buy some more, for should the commissary come to the review, and find a paid soldier without cartridges, he would order him to be shot."

"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed Richard, cursing himself, "how was it possible for me to be so stupid! I have neither cartridges, nor money to buy any."

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Why," rejoined his companion, "the commissary does not come these four or five months."

"Oh, then all is safe," thought Richard; "before that time I receive my pay again, and shall be able to buy cartridges to my heart's content." Upon this they bade each other good night, and Richard lay down to sleep off the excesses of the evening.

But he had not lain long, ere the corporal came and shouted before the tent: "Holla within there! tomorrow

is muster day; the commissary will be in camp at daybreak."

Richard's slumber was instantly broken. Though quite bewildered by intemperance, he still felt the loss of his cartridges blending with the confusion of his senses. He went round to his comrades of the tent, and anxiously inquired, whether any one would lend them, or sell them to him on trust. But they cursed him for a night-revelling tippler, and sent him back to his straw. In extreme anguish, through fear of being shot in the morning, he searched for money in every garment he possessed, but was unable to find among them all more than five halfpence. With these he now ran stumbling from tent to tent amid the obscurity of night, and tried to buy cartridges. Some laughed, others abused him, but no one gave him so much as an answer to his request.

At length he came to a tent, from which the voice of the soldier, who had won his cartridges an hour or two before, saluted him with curses. "Comrade," cried Richard

in a moving accent, "either you can assist me, or no one. You took my all last evening, and aided others before in plundering me. Should the commissary find me without cartridges in the morning, he would give orders for my being shot. You are the cause of all my misery. Give them to me then, or lend them to me, or sell them to me, whichever you will."

"Either to give or lend, is what I have sworn never to do," replied the soldier; "but, to be freed from the trouble of you, I will sell you the cartridges. How much money have you?"

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Only five half-pence," answered Richard in a mournful tone.

"Well," said the soldier, "that you may see I am a friendly fellow, there you have five cartridges for your five half-pence, and now to bed again, and leave me and the camp in quiet."

Saying this, he reached him the cartridges out of the tent, while Richard handed him in the money, and then with a mind relieved he went back, and slept undisturbed till morning.

The inspection took place, and Richard got through

with his five cartridges; toward noon the commissary departed, and the soldiers returned to the camp. But the sun burnt insupportably through the canvass tent, and the companions of Richard went to the sutler's, while he remained himself sitting at home with empty pockets, and gnawing a piece of the commissary's crust, faint and ill with the excess of the preceding day and his fatigue of the present.

"Ah," said he with a sigh, "would to Heaven I had only one ducat, only one of all those I have squandered in a way so thoughtless and wasteful!" when hardly had he breathed the wish, and a bright ducat lay in his left hand. Thought of the vial-genie now shot through his mind, embittering all his joy, as he felt the heavy piece of gold in his palm. That instant his fellow-soldier, who had let him have the cartridges in the night, entered the tent all in a flurry, and said: "Friend, you know that vial with its little black tumbler; —you must remember I some time ago bought it of you in the wood; — it has disappeared. Did I give it to you unawares instead of a cartridge? I had wrapped it in paper like my cartridges, and laid it away with them."

Richard searched his cartridge-box in alarm, and the very first paper he took up and unwrapped, contained the slender vial and his fearful slave.

"Well, that is lucky," cried the soldier, "I should have been very sorry to lose him, glum as he looks; it always seems to me, that he brings me extraordinary good luck at play. There, comrade, take your half-penny again, and give the creature to me." Richard, with all the haste in his power, complied with his request, and the soldier hurried well pleased to the tent of the sutler. But the unhappy Richard, from the moment he had seen the vialfiend again, held him in his hands, and carried him about with him, endured a misery amounting to horrour. Such was his dread, that he thought the demon must be grinning at him from every fold of the tent, and while he was unaware, might strangle him in his sleep. The ducat, which only a wish had called into his possession, he threw from him in his agony of alarm, however extreme his need of refreshment might be; and at last the fear that the genie