The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-11-11

He SITS down 70 MS msI game, puI onIy ror
pastime and the desire OF being thought sccia-
bic. The players deal out the cards They
unconsciously play into Satan's hands, who
takes all the tricks and both the players souls
for trumps-he being sharper at any game
A slight stake is put up, just to add interest
to the play. Game after game is played
Larger stakes and still larger. They begin
to move nervously on their chairs Their
brows lower and eyes flash, until now they
who win and they who lose, fired alike with
passion, sit with set jaws and compressed
lips, and clenched fists, and eyes like irebaIls,
that seem starting from their sockets, to see
the final turn before it comes. If losing, pale
with envy and tremulous with unuttered
oaths cast back red hot upon the heart; OF
winning, with hysteric laugh, "Hai hal 1
have itlS
A few years have passed, and he Is only
the wreck of q man. Seating himself at the
game, ere he throws the first card he stakes
the last relic of his wife-the marriage ring
which sealed the solemn vows between them
The game is lost, and staggering back in ex-
haustion he dreams. :. The bright hours of the
past mock his agony, and in his dreams fiends
with eyes of fire and tongues of fame circle
about him with joined hands, to dance and
sing their orgies with hellish chorus, chanting
"Hail, brotherl" kissing his clammy forehead
until their loathsome locks, flowing with SER
penis, crawl into his bosom and sink their
sharp fangs and suck up his LIES blood, and
coiling around his heart, pinch it with chills
and shudders unutterable.
Take warningl You are no stronger than
tens of thousands who have by this prac-
tice been overthrow. No young man in
our cities can escape being tempted. Be
ware of the first beginnings This road is a
momentum. Launch not upon this treach-
erous sea. Splint hulks strew the beach
Everlasting storms howl up and down, toss
ing unwary crafts into the hell gate. speak
of what l have seen with my own eyes
have looked off into the abyss, and have seen
the foaming and the kissing and the whirling
of the horrid deep in which the mangled vic
Tins writhed one upon another, and struggled,
strangled, blasphemed and died-the death
stare Of eternal despair upon their counten-
ances as the waters gurgled over them
To a gamblers deathbed there comes no
hope He viii probably die alone. His for
mer associates come not nigh his dwelling
When the hour comes his miserable soul will
go out of miserable life into miserable
eternity. AS his poor remains pass the house
where he was ruined old companions may
look out moment and say: There goes the
old carcass-dead at last;" but they will not
get up from the table. Let him down now
into his grave Plant no tree to cast its shade
there, for the long, deep, eternal gloom that
settles there is shadow enough. Plant no
forget-me-nots or eglantines around the
spot, for flowers were not made to grow on
such a blasted heath. Visit it not in the sun
shine, for THAT would be mockery, but in the
dismal night, when no stars are out, and the
spirits of darkness come down horsed on the
winds, then visit the grave of the gamblerl