Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1858-11-18
gnterestinp Storg,
THE GAMBLERS RESCUE.
BY CHARLES sUMMERFIELD.

BY CHARLES sUMMERFIELD.
More than twenty years ago, there
stood an old frame house in the city of
New Orleans, of a somewhat singular
construction. Its low, narrow front was
on the Rue Royal, zeal the corner of
Bienville, with a massive iron door lite
rally bound with bars of iron, which
none of the n~eighbors ever remember to
have seen open during daylight. But
after DARK, ard especially toward the
noon of night, the case was very different
Then, any body who would take The pains
to watch unobseryed, might perceive and
count scores, and ever hundreds, ap-
proach, though not more than two or
three at a time, and by giving three dis
tinct, and, as it seemed, peculiar knocks,
and whispering some secret sign word in
the porter's ear, receive admission. How
ever, of all those thus entering, not one
was beheld departing, and hence the in
ference might be drawn. with absolute
certainty. that they found some other
place of exit. 1t appeared also probable
that most OF these nocturnal visitors de-
sired to conceal their personal identity,
as they were generally the most numer-
GUS in cloudy or rainy weather, and in
hours of the most intense darkness and
they always came mufled up more or less,
so as nearly or altogether hide their fea-
lures.
A stranger, who had examined only
specifically the paltry breadth of the
building in front, would have unhesita
tingly denied its capacity for containing
such numbers as there usually rendez.
voused but, on closer inspection, it could
not fail to be noticed that ample amends
were made by the depth Of
the structure, running back, as it did,
almost to Bourbon street, and having,
besides, a suite of Easements, or rather
%cavernous s~ubterranean apartments, des-
titute of any external entrance, and with.
out any illumination, save what was
made by artificial means.
At the date when the incidents hap
pened which | an about to relate, there
was a cold Christmas night, long remem-
bered in the south as an extraordinary
occurrence for such a genial latitude.
The wind blew almost a hurricane, while
the mingled snow, sleet and rain drove
everybody from the streets and thorough
fares who had any roof or SHELTER, or
who al not kept out by the power of
some mighty motive or strong passion.
The chill seemed piercing even to the
very marrow, and through the thickest
clothing people shivered over the fire in
the warmest mansions, and the poor
houseless beggars cowed down wherever
they could hnd a sequestered corner, and
several of them actually froze to death.
1t was about the middle of this tenn
p%estuous night, when a solitary female
might have been seen advancing with
timid and faltering step down the Rue
Royal, from the direction Of Canal street,
until she reached a point Immediately
opposite the old frame building previ
ously described, when she paused as il
uncertain as to her farther progress, and,
leaning against a lamp post, gave vent to
an uncomfortable paroxysm of the most
terrible and hopeless grief. What unac.
countable cause could have brought this
woman OF sorrow out into these danger
Gus streets at such an hour of pitchy
darkness, and iu defiance of the bowling
storm 7 1t could not be the pitiless hand
OF poverty, for the Pickering rays of the
lamp above her head revealed enough of
her dress to show that it was of the rich
est material, Notwithstanding its drenched
and dropping condition from the rain,
while diamonds sparkled on her fingers,
and a heavy watch chain of pure gold
encircled her neck. A single glance was
sufficient to render apparent her incom-
parable beauty, although the brilliant fire
Of her dark eyes looked dim through one
continuous flow of tears, and her face
was pale, and the loneliness Of her coun.
tenance for the in some degree
married by the agony that shook her soul
to the inmost centre, and which was de-
picted on every feature.
Whatever might be the occasion of her
coming forth into the dismal tempest, it
evidently had something to do with the
old frame house before alluded to, for
she repeatedly cast her eyes towards it
with a mournful and anxious expression,
and at length crossed over, and approach
ing slowly with measured steps, rang the
door bell. The summons received no
response. 1t was iterated several times,
and, perhaps a little angry, she snatched
up a brickbat from the ground, and struck
the lronbound Oaken planks with all the
force of her arm. This seemed to have
the desired effect, for very soon the door
was partially opened, and a voice, hoarse
and full of wrathful menace, exclaimed
Who are you, that dare disturb pea
ceasle people at this late hour?"
II am an unhappy woman was the
sad and tremulous answe
"What the devil do you want asked
the harsh voice.