Hamilton could hardly believe his eyes, to see a man of his experience and knowledge engaged in so unequal a contest; but it was to no purpose that he informed him of his danger, both aloud in French, and in private by signs; he still disregarded his warnings, and the dice, that bore Caesar and his fortunes, performed a miracle in his favour.  The rooks were defeated for the first time, but not without bestowing upon him all the encomiums and praises of being a very fair and honourable player, which they never fail to lavish upon those whom they wish to engage a second time; but all their commendations were lost, and their hopes deceived:  the Chevalier was satisfied with the first experiment.

Hamilton, when the king was at supper, related to him how he found the Chevalier de Grammont rashly engaged with the rooks, and in what manner he had been providentially preserved.  “Indeed, Sir,” said the Chevalier de Grammont, “the rooks were discomfited for once;” and thereupon related the adventure to his majesty in his usual way, attracting the attention of all the company, to a circumstance trifling in itself, but rendered interesting by his humour.

After supper, Miss Stewart, in whose apartment there was play, called Hamilton to her to tell the story.  The Chevalier de Grammont, perceiving that she attended to him with pleasure, was fully confirmed in the truth of his first conjectures; and, having carried Hamilton home with him to supper, they began to discourse freely together as usual, “George,” said the Chevalier de Grammont, “are you in any want of money?  I know you love play:  perhaps it may not be so favourable to you as it is to me.  We are at a great distance from London.  Here are two hundred guineas:  take them, I beseech you; they will do to play with at Miss Stewart’s.”  Hamilton, who little expected this conclusion, was rather disconcerted.  “How! at Miss Stewart’s!” “Yes, in her apartments.  Friend George,” continued the Chevalier de Grammont, “I have not yet lost my eyes:  you are in love with her, and, if I am not mistaken, she is not offended at it; but tell me how you could resolve to banish poor Wetenhall from your heart, and suffer yourself to be infatuated with a girl, who perhaps after all is not worth the other, and who besides, whatever favourable dispositions she may have for you, will undoubtedly in the end prove your ruin.  Faith, your brother and you are two pretty fellows, in your choice.  What! can you find no other beauties in all the court to fall in love with, except the king’s two mistresses!  As for the elder brother, I can pardon him he only took Lady Castlemaine after his master had done with her, and after Lady Chesterfield had discarded him; but, as for you, what the devil do you intend to do with a creature, on whom the king seems every day to dote with increasing fondness?  Is it because that drunken sot Richmond has again come forward, and now declares himself one of her professed admirers?  You will soon see what he