Gaming, in all countries, is the vice of an aristocracy.

The young find it already established in the best circles; they are enticed by the habit of others, and ruined when the habit becomes their own.
"You look feverish, Percy," said Saville, as he met his pupil in the Park.

"I don't wonder at it; you lost infernally last night." "More than I can pay," replied Percy, with a quivering lip.
"No! you shall pay it to-morrow, for you shall go shares with me to-night.

Observe," continued Saville, lowering his voice, "_I never lose_." "How _never ?_" "Never, unless by design.

I play at no game where chance only presides.
Whist is my favourite game: it is not popular: I am sorry for it.