Mexico weekly ledger. (Mexico, Mo.) 1855-1956, 1879-01-23

see Ten tltneS tnat amount staked ON
the turning of a single card. But
Fred was not s'in luck" He lost
his five hundred dollars, and was
now eight or nine hundred dollars
loser again urged him to retire,
but in vain. He was now excited,
and somewhat irritated, and with an
eager but decided air he counted out
five hundred dollars more and laid it
on card.
determined to demonstrate with
him no further, but stood by looking
on with as much anxiety as though
it had been my own gold that was be-
ing rapidly squandered. Nay, more;
for, knowing Fred's reckless and
impetuous nature, / felt sure that he
would go on till he should have lost
every dollar, then--for he had his
revolver with him-blow his own
brains out. Nothing could save him
now but turn in the luck-which 1
looked for as much as 1 looked for a
miracle.
The ''luck" was against him. 1t
seemed to have taken dead set,
like the ebbing tide. But he went
heedlessly on. He put down only a
handred dollars now, as though to
begin anew. This he won. He
frightened up little, and put down
five hundred losing. His face was
very pale, and his dark eyes shone
with a strange lustre. His next
venture was three hundred, which he
lost. Then, with as little apparent
regard for his gold as though it had
been bits of clay, he continued to
count it out upon the table, losing it
by hundreds, two hundreds, three
hundreds, and five hundreds-only
now and then winning a bet-till he
had lost three thousand dollars.
No hope now. | shuddered as l
felt what the end must be. He had
grown terribly excited. His fingers
worked nervously as he opened bag
after bag, and saw his hand more
than once steal slyly around beneath
his coat to where he carried his re-
volver, to ascertain if it was in its
place. l could not help trembling
now, add / felt great drops of per-
splration rolling from my face.
Fred now made another bet of five
hundred dollars-and won.
"Fred," l whispered, ''for Gods
sake, stop now! Ifyou will do so,
l will divide equally with you when
we get to New York, and your loss
won't be so bad.'
But he had not paid the slightest
attention to my words-acting more
like person in delirium, who does
not recognize his nearest friends
ard to my horror, he now produced
all his remaining money, amounting
to twenty-five hundred dollars, and
placed it in stack on single card.
''There," said he, in a husky voice,
that did not sound at ali like his
own, ''talIe it all, or I'll qsit even."
l felt that the end was not far off
fate fate. It II was % like lottery of death.
1 turned away, and the whole brilliant
scene seemed to swim before me;
the laughter sounded like mockery;
every smiling face seemed distorted
with hideous grin. Many a time
since then has that same scene visit
ed me in my slumbers like a horrid
nightmare.
I think l would have grown de-
lirious and fallen to the floor among
the trampling feet, but that general
exclamation of surprise recalled me
to my senses, and l turned once
more toward the gaming-table. To
my unspeakable joy, Fred had won,
and the banker, COMPRISING his thin,
white lips with ycxation, rapidly
counted out twenty-five hundred dol
lars in glittering twenties and showed
them across the table.
Fred's whole manner suddenly
changed, and with sigh of relief he
raked down his five thousand dollars,
slowed it away quickly in his pockets
among his empty buckskin bags that
we're soon to be filled by his recev-
cred treasures, and calculated:
"There, now! I'm just even-and
hope I'll be busted if / ever play
faro again!"
To my delight he turned from the
table, and accompanied me ont of the
perllous net, followed by y scowl
from the dealer. Two days later We
embarked on the Panama steamer.
Twenty years nave passed away,
and Fred has faithfully kept his VOW
against gambling. Had he not done
so he would not probably have been
the wealthy merchant of Philadelphia Q
that he is to-day.