Galloping Dick
“Does your reverence mark me out for Satan?” I asked whimsically.
He rolled his eyes, and shook his head lugubriously. “Undoubtedly, you are chosen for burning, Ryder,” he declared. “I have given your case careful and prayerful thought. But the mercy of God which endureth for ever will be void before an addicted sinner like yourself. The Devil has hardened your heart, as he hardened the heart of Pharaoh, and of old Clinch, that was hanged in chains at Hampstead in 1673. He was a rare one was Clinch; a prettier hand at a job I never met. I have known him to take two thousand guineas in a day between here and Portsmouth.”
“I ha’ done better myself,” says I, for I was tired of this laudation of parties like Clinch and Starbottle; “I have took ten thousand in an hour or so.”
The Ordinary turns his eyes on me. “For the which you have lost your immortal soul,” he said solemnly. “Bethink you, Ryder, how little a thing is life. Rather lay up for yourself treasure in Heaven, where neither moth nor
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