"Fortune frustrates our wisest schemes!" rejoined the moralizing Augustus. "Captain, will you produce the scanty wrecks of your wealth?"
Clifford, still silent, threw a purse on the table; Augustus carefully emptied it, and counted out five guineas; an expression of grave surprise settled on Tomlinson's contemplative brow, and extending the coins towards Clifford, he said in a melancholy tone—
—"'All your pretty ones?
Did you say all?'"
A look from Clifford answered the interesting interrogatory.
"These, then," said Tomlinson, collecting in his hand the common wealth—"These, then, are all our remaining treasures!"—as he spoke, he jingled the coins mournfully in his palm, and gazing upon them with a parental air, exclaimed,
"Alas! regardless of their doom, the little victims play!"
"Oh, damn it!" said Ned, "no sentiment!
