Morning journal and courier., 1886-04-19

tent down South. Old high-low-jack counts | game for them still. It's of no use to ask to
 play anything else.
 There's one train on the Maine Central they call the "High-Low-Jack train" It runs 1 from Lewiston to Portland, leaving the for
 mer city at 7:3O a. m. When the train reach l es Walnut Hill, or of the stations in
 that vicinity, a jolly party of boisterous old
 fellows get aboard every trip, and immedi- | ately dispose themselves for game of high
 lowjack. Before the train has left Falmouth
 there are two or three parties having this l game every morning. These veterans have some business in Portland and ride on this tram, week in and week out, never missing the high-low-jack They would be more likely to miss their breakfast than either l 1 have often seen them slamming the cards | down on the board, chuckling over fat trick, popping jokes at each other, and extracting | Rs much comfort out of a turned up jack as | out of their quids of tobacco-and that is saying good deal. have gone to Portland | on this train mauy times, and never failed to see all these well fed and contented old gamesters at their ancient and honorable pastime
 The best game of high low jack I ever saw was played at Bangor last week in one of the splendid parlors ot the Tarratine club, Hanni- bal Hamlin was the most conspicuous figure in the party of four old gentlemen who sat around the table. MT. Hamlin had more hair than any of them. It was a quartette of settlers, of men who have made their name or made their pile and come down to the club about every afternoon to take their ease and their seven -up-of those old bank pres idents and merchants and lawyers who are the backbone of the Tarratine club and have it all to themselves in the afternoons The young fellows of 40 or 50 don't get there till evening.
 ''I beg, 'said the man on the vice-president's left
 ''Take it," said Mr. Hamlin 'tPve got four of the right kind and propose to save 'em."
 MT. Hamlin moved his glasses down little lower on his nose, rolled his cigar over twice in the middle of his mouth, pulled once, and settled down to play.
 'Low, jack, game to your high," said he, after the cards were out. "That's all I could expect to get out of it."
 Soon it came the ex-vice presidents turn ts say. The ace was turned He had the queen and three in his iand. 'I shall stand,'' said he. The game went on. He counted high and low and the other side got the game;
 'FWouldn't you have stood with the queen and tray, ace turned?'
 All hands agreed that it was good play.
 MT. Hamlin is an expert and a tireless high-low-jac player. Almost every after noon, i'll his long tailed coat, with his neck tie carelessly knotted and his thick wavy hair brlstI1ng from hlS head like the Cir cassian girls, the esteemed and venerable statesman sits down amid the luxurious vel vets and bronzes, the rare paintings and en- cravings, the royal Worcester vases, and all the glitter and richness of the Tarratine club, and, lighting another cigar soon one burns low, pursues his favorite amusement till the shadows are thick.
 In his game MT. Hamlin unites the daring of youth with the caution of old age. He begs less frequently than any other player in the club, and it is fun to see the promptness with which he saves his jacks. He apparent ly takes many risks, but seems to have an intuition to where tho cards lie, and ssl- dom loses. They don't get his tens away from him very often. He is pretty sure to count all there is in his hand Like all en- thusiastic card players he is displeased if his partner makes & mistake.
 "Aha you ought to have swung once more, partner," was of the last things I heard him say.