The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1891-04-30

riding to perdltlon. There Is always
one kind of sign on the door-''Ex-
change" a most appropriate title for
the door, for there. in that room, man
exchanges health, peace and Heaven,
for loss of health, loss of home, loss of
family, loss of immortal soul. Exchange
sure enough and infinite enough;
Men wishing to gamble will find places
just suited to their capacity, not only in
the underground oyster cellar, or at the
table back of the curtain, covered with
greasy cards, or in the steamboat smok-
ing cabin, where the bloated wretch,
with rings in his ears instead of his
nose, deals the pack, and winks in the
unsuspecting traveler-providing free
drinks all around but in gilded parlOrs
and amid gorgeous surroundings.
A young man having suddenly heired
large property, sits at a hazard table
and takes up in a dice box the estate
won by a fathers lifetime sweat, and
shakes it and losses it away. Intern
perance soon stigmatizes its victim
kicking him out, slavering fool, into
the ditch, or sending him, with the
drunkard's hiccough, staggering up the
street where his family lives. But
gambling does not in that way expose
its victims The gambler may be eaten
up by the gamblers passion, yet
you only discover it by the greed in
his eyes, the hardness of his
features, the nervous restlessness,
the threadbare coat and his en-
barrassed business. Yet he is on the
road to hell, and no preachers voice
or STARTLING warning, or wife's entreaty,
can make him stay for moment his
headlong career. The internal spell is
on him: giant is aroused within; and
though you bind him with cables, they
would part like thread; and though you
fasten him seven times round with
chains, they would snap like rusted
wire; and though you piled up in his
path heaven-high Bibles, tracts and
sermons, and on the top should set the
cross of the Son of God, over them all
the gambler would leap like a roe over
the rocks, on his way to perdition.
/. Again, this sin works ruin by killing
industry. A man used to reaping scores,
or hundreds, or thousands of dollars
from the gaming table will not be con
tent with slow work. He will say:
''What is the use of trying to make
these fifty dollars in my store when
can get five times that in half an hour
down at 'Billy's?'" You never knew
a confirmed gambler who was indus
trious. The men given to this vice
ployed in the game, in idleness, or in
toxication, or sleep, or in corrupting
new victims. This has dulled the car
penter's saw, and cut the band of the
factory wheel, sunk the cargo, broken
the teeth of the farmers harrow and
senta strange lightning to shatter the
battery of the philosopher. The very
idea in gaming is at war with all the
industries of society.
This crime is getting its lever under
many mercantile house in our great
cities, and before long down will come
the great establishment, crushing
reputation, home, comfort and immor-
tai souls. How it diverts and sinks
capital may be inferred from some
authentic statement before us. The
ten gambling houses that once were au-
thorized in Paris passed through the
banks yearly, three hundred and TWEEN
ty-fve million francs. Where does all
the money come from? The whole
world is robbed! What is most sad,
there are no consultations for the loss
and suffering entailed by gaming. If
men fail in lawful business, God
pities and society commiserates;
but where in the Bible or in society is
there any consolation for the gambler?
From what tree of the forest oozes
the balm that can soothe the game
ster's heart? In that bottle where
God keeps the tears of His children, are
there any tears of the gambler? Do
the winds that come to kiss the faded
cheek of sickness, and to cool the heat
ed brow of the laborer, whisper hope
and cheer to the emaciated victim of
the game of hazard? When an honest
man is in trouble he has sympathy:
Poor fellow!" they say. But do
gamblers come to weep at the
agonies of the gambler? In Northum-
berland was one of the finest estates IN
England Mr.. Porter owned it, and in a
year gambled it all away. Having lost
the last acre of his estate, he came down
from the saloon and got into his car
riage; went back, put up his horses and
carriage and town house, and played.
He threw and lost He started home,
and in side alley met friend, from
whom he borrowed ten guineas; went
back to the saloon, and before great
while had won twenty thousand pounds.
He died at last beggar in ST. Giles.
How many gamblers felt sorry for Mr..
Porter? Who consoled him on the loss
of his estate? What gambler subscribed
to put stone over the poor mans grave?
Not one!
To gamblers death-bed there come 6
no hope. He will probably die alone.
His former associates come not nigh his
dwelling. When the hour comes his
miserable soul will go out of miser-
able life into miserable eternity. As
his poor remains pass the house where
he was ruined, old companions may
look out a moment and say: ''There
goes the old carcass-dead at last, =