One day, it was George’s birthday, Mrs. Dolly invited a party, as she called it, to drink tea with her; and, at tea-time, she was entertaining the neighbours with stories of what she had seen in the great world. Amongst others, she had a favourite story of a butler, in the family where she had lived, who bought a ticket in the lottery when he was drunk, which ticket came up a ten thousand pound prize when he was sober; and the butler turned gentleman, and kept his coach directly.
One evening, Maurice Robinson and William came home, after their day’s work, just in time to hear the end of this story; and Mrs. Dolly concluded it by turning to Maurice, and assuring him that he must put into the lottery and try his luck: for why should not he be as lucky as another? “Here,” said she, “a man is working and drudging all the days of his life to get a decent coat to put on, and a bit of bread to put into his child’s mouth; and, after all, may be he can’t do it; though all the while, for five guineas, or a guinea, or half-a-guinea even, if he has but the spirit to lay out his money properly, he has the chance of making a fortune without any trouble. Surely a man should try his luck, if not for his own, at least for his children’s sake,” continued Mrs. Dolly, drawing little George towards her, and hugging him in her arms. “Who knows what might turn up! Make your papa buy a ticket in the lottery, love; there’s my darling; and I’ll be bound he’ll have good luck. Tell him, I’ll be bound we shall have a ten thousand pound prize at least; and all for a few guineas. I’m sure I think none but a miser would grudge the money, if he had it to give.”
As Mrs. Dolly finished her speech, she looked at William Deane, whose countenance did not seem to please her. Maurice was whistling, and Ellen knitting as fast as possible. Little George was counting William Deane’s buttons. “Pray, Mr. Deane,” cried Mrs. Dolly, turning full upon him, “what may your advice and opinion be? since nothing’s to be done here without your leave and word of command, forsooth. Now, as you know so much and have seen so much of the world, would you be pleased to tell this good company, and myself into the bargain, what harm it can do anybody, but a miser, to lay out a small sum to get a good chance of a round thousand, or five thousand, or ten thousand, or twenty thousand pounds, without more ado?”
As she pronounced the words five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand pounds, in a triumphant voice, all the company, except Ellen and William, seemed to feel the force of her oratory.
William coolly answered that he was no miser, but that he thought money might be better laid out than in the lottery; for that there was more chance of a man’s getting nothing for his money than of his getting a prize; that when a man worked for fair wages every day, he was sure of getting something for his pains, and with honest industry, and saving, might get rich enough in time, and have to thank himself for it, which would be a pleasant thing: but that if a man, as he had known many, set his heart upon the turning of the lottery wheel, he would leave off putting his hand to any thing the whole year round, and so grow idle, and may be, drunken; “and then,” said William, “at the year’s end, if he have a blank, what is he to do for his rent, or for his wife and children, that have nothing to depend upon but him and his industry?”
Here Maurice sighed, and so did Ellen, whilst William went on and told many a true story of honest servants, and tradesmen, whom he had known, who had ruined themselves by gaming and lotteries.
“But,” said Maurice, who now broke silence, “putting into the lottery, William, is not gaming, like dice or cards, or such things. Putting into the lottery is not gaming, as I take it.”
“As I take it, though,” replied William, “it is gaming. For what is gaming but trusting one’s money, or somewhat, to luck and hap-hazard? And is there not as much hap-hazard in the turning of the wheel as in the coming up of the dice, or the dealing of the cards?”
“True enough; but somebody must get a prize,” argued Maurice.
“And somebody must win at dice or cards,” said William, “but a many more must lose; and a many more, I take it, must lose by the lottery than by any other game; else how would they that keep the lottery gain by it, as they do? Put a case. If you and I, Maurice, were this minute to play at dice, we stake our money down on the table here, and one or t’other takes all up. But, in the lottery, it is another affair; for the whole of what is put in does never come out.”