The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1886-12-09

to the grave. I will not curse my
destroyer, but, oh. may God avenge the
wrongs and impositions practiced upon the
unwary in a way that shall best please
Him. This, my dear parents, is the last let
ter you will ever receive from me. ! hum
bly, pray your forgiveness. 1t is my dying
prayer. Long before you will have received
this from me the cold grave will have
closed upon me forever. Life to me is in
supportable. can not, nay, will not, suf-
fer the shame of having ruined you. For
get and forgive is the dying prayer Of your
unfortunate son."
The old father came to the post-office, got
the letter and fell to the floor. They
thought he was dead at first, but they
brushed back the white hair from his brow
and famed him. He had only tainted. /
wish he had been dead, for what is life
worth to father after his son is destroyed2
"Aceldama, the field of blood"
When things go wrong at a gaming table
they shout: "Foul, foul" Over all the
gaming tables of the world 1 cry out:
"Foul, foul, infinitely foul"
''Gift stores'' are abundant throughout
the country. With book or knife, or sew
ing machine, or coat, or carriage there goes
prize. At these stores people get some
thing thrown in with their purchase. 1t
may be gold watch or set of silver, a
ring, or farm. Sharp way to get off I'M
salable goods. It has filled the land with
fictitious articles, and covered up our popu-
lation with brass finger rings and despoiled
the moral sense of the community, and is
fast making US nation of gamblers.
The church Of God has not seemed will
ing to allow the world to have all the ad-
vantage of these games of chance. A
church fair opens, and towards the close it
is found that some of the articles are I'M
salable. Forthwith the conductors of the
enterprise conclude that they will rattle
for some of the valuable articles, and,
under pretense of anxiety to make their
minister present or please some popular
member of the church, fascinating persons
are dispatched through the room, pencil in
hand, to ''solicit shares" or perhaps each
draws for his own advantage, and scores of
people go home with their trophies, think
ing that it is all right, for Christian ladies
did the embroidery and Christian men did
the rafting and the proceeds went toward
new communion set But you
may depend on it that, as far as
morality is concerned, you might
as well have won by the crack of the bill
lard ball or the turn of the dice box. Do
you wonder that churches built, lighted or
upholstered by such processes as that come
to great financial ami spiritual decrepti-
tude? The devil says: 81 helped to build
that house of worship, and have as much
right there as you have" and for once the
devil is right. We do not read that they
had a lottery for building the church at
Corinth or at Antioch, or for getting up an
embroidered surplice for ST. Paul
AL this style ecclesiastical gambling.
More than one man who is destroyed can
say that his first step on the wrong road was
when he won something at church fair.
Betting, that once was chiefly the accom-
paniment of the race-course, is fast becom-
ing National habit, and in some circles
any opinion advanced on finance or politics
is accosted with the interrogation: Chow
much will you bet on that, sir?"
This custom may make no appeal to slow,
lethargic temperaments, but there are in
the country tens of thousands of quick,
nervous, sanguine, excitable temperaments
ready to be acted upon, and their feet will
soon take hold on death. For some months,
and perhaps for years, they will linger in
the more polite and elegant circle of game
sters, but, after awhile, their pathway will
come to the fatal plunge. Finding them
selves in the rapids they will try to back
out, and, hurled over the brink, they will
clutch the side of the boat, until their fin
ger nails, blood-tipped, will pierce the
wood, and then, with white cheek and
agonized stare, and the horrors of the
lost soul lifting the very hair from the
scalp, they will plunge down where no
graphing hooks can drag them out.
Shall sketch the history of the gambler:
Lured by bad company, he finds his way
into place where honest men ought never
to go. He sits down to his first game, but
only for pastime and the desire of being
thought sociable. The players deal out the
cards. They unconsciously play into
Satan's hands, who takes all the tricks and
both 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 ireballs, that
seem starting from their sockets, to see the
final turn before it comes-if los
ing, pale with envy and tremulous
WIFI uuulUcfeu OdUiiS CdSG DaCk Teu
hot upon the heart; or winning, with
hysteric laugh, sHa, ha, have it." A few
years have passed and he is only the
wreck of man. Seating himself at the
game, ere he throws the first card, he
stakes the last relic of his wife-the mar
riage ring which sealed the solemn vows
between them. The game is lost, and
staggering back in exhaustion 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, brother" Kissing his
clammy forehead until their loathsome
locks, flowing with serpents, crawl into
his bosom and sink their sharp fangs and
suck up his life's blood, and coiiing around
his heart, pinch 1T with chills and shud-
ders unutterable.
Take warningl You are no stronger than
tens of thousands who have by this practice
been overthrown. No young man in our
cities can escape being tempted. Beware
of the first beginnings. This road is q
down grade, and every instant increases
the momentum. Launch not upon this
treacherous sea. Splint hulks strew the
beach. Everlasting storms howl up and
down, tossing unwary crafts into the hell
of xuhaf I haUa caar with m "