Not long ago, when there was a fire in the King's
Palace, there was such a desperate run on fire, and king, and
palace, that further stakes on the numbers attached to those words
in the Golden Book were forbidden.
Every accident or event, is
supposed, by the ignorant populace, to be a revelation to the
beholder, or party concerned, in connection with the lottery.
Certain people who have a talent for dreaming fortunately, are much
sought after; and there are some priests who are constantly
favoured with visions of the lucky numbers.
I heard of a horse running away with a man, and dashing him down,
dead, at the corner of a street. Pursuing the horse with
incredible speed, was another man, who ran so fast, that he came
up, immediately after the accident. He threw himself upon his
knees beside the unfortunate rider, and clasped his hand with an
expression of the wildest grief. 'If you have life,' he said,
'speak one word to me! If you have one gasp of breath left,
mention your age for Heaven's sake, that I may play that number in
the lottery.'
It is four o'clock in the afternoon, and we may go to see our
lottery drawn. The ceremony takes place every Saturday, in the
Tribunale, or Court of Justice--this singular, earthy-smelling
room, or gallery, as mouldy as an old cellar, and as damp as a
dungeon. At the upper end is a platform, with a large horse-shoe
table upon it; and a President and Council sitting round--all
judges of the Law.
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