Starkey--ar' a regular epizootic uv religyun, sent down frum clouddum
and scattered permiscously ter ther forty winds uv ther earth."

We pass the "cattymount," and presently come to a table at which a
young and handsome "pilgrim," and a ferret-eyed sharp are engaged at
cards. The first mentioned is a tall, robust fellow, somewhere in the
neighborhood of twenty-three years of age, with clear-cut features,
dark lustrous eyes, and teeth of pearly whiteness. His hair is long
and curling, and a soft brown mustache, waxed at the ends, is almost
perfection itself.

Evidently he is of quick temperament, for he handles the cards with a
swift, nervous dexterity that surprises even the professional sharp
himself, who is a black, swarthy-looking customer, with "villain"
plainly written in every lineament of his countenance; his eyes, hair,
and a tremendous mustache that he occasionally strokes, are of a jetty
black; did you ever notice it?--dark hair and complexion predominate
among the gambling fraternity.

Perhaps this is owing to the condition of the souls of some of these
characters.

The professional sharp in our case was no exception to the rule. He
was attired in the hight of fashion, and the diamond cluster,
inevitably to be found there, was on his shirt front; a jewel of
wonderful size and brilliancy.

"Ah! curse the luck!" exclaimed the sharp, slapping down the cards;
"you have won again, pilgrim, and I am five hundred out. By the gods,
your luck is something astonishing!"