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.”  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.”  The thimble-man hesitated, looked at Jack with a dubious look, then at the gold, and then scratched his head.  There was now a laugh amongst the surrounders, which evidently nettled the fellow, who forthwith thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulling out all his silver treasure, just contrived to place the value of the guinea on the table.  “Them that finds wins, and them that can’t find—­ loses,” interrupted Jack, lifting up a thimble, out of which rolled a pea.  “There, paddy, what do you think of that?” said he, seizing