The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1867-08-01

one way or the other, the men who
whirl the wheel and roll the ball will
be utterly Indifferent. They are as
remorseless as fate. They work for
the bank. and the bank has no soul.
Come not here for soul, or heart, or
conscience. They are extinct-burned
up. These men and women are ami
mate forms only-Aesh and blood,
bones, cords, muscles-destitute, ut
terly devoid of a soul, of a conscience
to be quickened or animated by moral
considerations.
Before we leave the hall let us take
one more look. There is n player
whom we must not pass by; it is an
old woman, with thin, gray hair, hol-
low cheeks. toothless gums, shriveled
countenance, deep set eyes, dim with
age. and trembling hands. She wears
ill-ftting garments, an old straw bon
net trimmed with faded ribbons, a
shawl worn threadbare. She is an
old habitue of the place. Year after
year she has sat by this table. Many
thousand francs she has won and lost.
She is low down now, and will be
lower soon-in the grave. Her voice
is sepulchral; hollow as if sounding
from "a tomb. She has six dollars in
e corner of a dirty hand
kerchief she plays and every
one is lost, then leaves the
mumbling to herself, her bent form
and trembling limbs attracting for a
moment the eyes of all around her.
She goes to the door, looks out upon
the s%tar-lit sky, but sees no beauty
there-no hand divine reckoning her
upward to a purer sphere. There
has been a time in her life when
heaven was nearer than perdition. If
there are voices still calling her to a
better life, she does not hear them, or
she is averse toward them, for she
turns toward the table, raises her arm
over the shoulders of the crowd
around the table, losses down a dol
lar and wins twoi
Her bleared eyes CLEAN once more.
For a moment there is a historical
movement of the toothless laws and
a sepulchral laugh at this unexpected
luck, and though it is near mid
she sits down to the table to re-
cover the losses Of the evening.
We leave her there and hasten TO
escape from such a suburb of the bot
tomless pit, where heart and soul and
conscience-where all that is sweet,
tender, lovely, pure and holy ia this
life, where all hope of Heaven, Of
joy and bliss in the life TO come, are
burnt out of the heart by the IN.
quenchable flames of passion for
play, d%evouring the f~requenters of the
place
They know that the chances are
against them; they know that the
bank pays the Grand Duke of Mas
sau thirty thousand dollars a year for
the privilege Of keeping the gaming
they know that the yearly
profits of the bank are enormous, and
yet they continue to hazard their
money, hoping to have a run of luck
will make them rich. The pic
ture would be dark enough if it were
only here and there individuals giving
themselves to the play; but when
what is called the entire up
per and middling classes of
are carried away
by passion for play, and when the
gambling is legalized. %patronized and
by the government, the pic
ture is horrible. LOCALIZED iniquity
is incomparably more baneful than
which is not corporate. Never
have | seen q place where there was
such utter forgetfulness of God-such
bold and impious Dissertation of the
Sabbath, such debasement Of the in
and such a flaming up Of the
passions.
In these days. when strenuous eff
forts are put forth to make the Sab
bath in the United States a legal holt
lay, it will be instructive to look upon
this picture, although it is so dark
and horrible. Let the people of the
States be on their guard
all the attempts which are
made for keeping the Sabbath after
he German fashion. CARLETON.