Stranger. 'I am at play.'
Archbishop. 'At play? With whom? I see nobody.'
Sir. 'I own, sir, my antagonist is not visible: I am playing
with God.'
Abp. 'At what game, pray, sir?'
Str. 'At Chess.'
Abp. 'Do you play for anything?'
Str. 'Certainly.'
Abp. 'You cannot have any chance, as your adversary must be so
superior to you.'
Str. 'He takes no advantage, but plays merely as a man.'
Abp. 'When you win or lose, how do you settle accounts?'
Str. 'Very exactly and punctually.'
Abp. 'Indeed! Pray, how stands your game now?'
Str. 'There! I have just lost!'
Abp. 'How much have you lost?'
Str. 'Fifty guineas.'
Abp. 'How do you manage to pay it? Does God take your money?'
Str. 'No! The poor are his treasurers. He always sends some
worthy person to receive it, and you are at present his
purse-bearer.'
Saying this, the stranger put fifty guineas into his Grace's
hand, and retired, adding--'I shall play no more to-day.'
The prelate was delighted; though he could not tell what to make
of this extraordinary man. The guineas were all good; and the
archbishop applied them to the use of the poor, as he had been
directed.
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