Produced by Mike Lough
THE GAMING TABLE: ITS VOTARIES AND VICTIMS,
In all Times and Countries, especially in England and in France.
IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.
By Andrew Steinmetz
Of The Middle Temple, Barrister-At-Law; First-Class Extra Certificate
School Of Musketry, Hythe; Late Officer Instructor Musketry, The Queens
Own Light Infantry Militia. Author Of 'The History Of The Jesuits,'
'Japan And Her People,' 'The Romance Of Duelling,' &C., &C.
'The sharp, the blackleg, and the knowing one,
Livery or lace, the self-same circle, run;
The same the passion, end and means the same--
Dick and his Lordship differ but in name.'
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
I. CHEVALIERS D'INDUSTRIE, OR POLITE SHARPERS II. PROFESSIONAL GAMESTERS
AND THEIR FRAUDS III. ANECDOTES OF THE PASSIONS AND VICISSITUDES OF
GAMESTERS IV. ACTROCITIES, DUELS. SUICIDES, AND EXECUTION OF GAMBLERS V.
ODDITIES AND WITTICISMS OF GAMBLERS VI. THE GAMING CLUBS VII. DOINGS IN
GAMING HOUSES VIII. THE DOCTRINE OF PROBABILITIES APPLIED TO GAMBLING
IX. THE HISTORY OF DICE AND CARDS X. PIQUET, BASSET, FARO, HAZARD,
PASSE-DIX, PUT, CROSS AND PILE, THIMBLE-RIG
XI. COCK-FIGHTING XII. THE TURF, HISTORICAL, SOCIAL, MORAL XIII.
FORTUNE-TELLING BY CARDS (FOR LADIES) XIV. AMUSING CARD TRICKS
THE GAMING TABLE.
CHAPTER I. CHEVALIERS D'INDUSTRIE, OR POLITE SHARPERS.
Chevaliers d'industrie, or polite and accomplished sharpers, have always
existed in every city, from the earliest times to the present. The
ordinary progress of these interesting gentlemen is as follows. Their
debut is often difficult, and many of them are stopped short in their
career. They only succeed by means of great exertion and severe trials;
but they endure everything in order to be tolerated or permitted to
exercise their calling. To secure credit they ally themselves with men
of respectability, or those who pass for such. When they have no titles
they fabricate them; and few persons dispute their claims. They are
found useful for the pleasures of society, the expenses of which they
often pay--at the cost of the dupes they make in the world. The income
of chevaliers d'industrie is at first derived from those inexperienced
persons whom they get in their clutches by means of every kind
of enticement, in order to ruin them some day--if they have any
'expectations' or are likely to be rich; or in order to make accomplices
of them if they have only aptitudes for the purpose. After having led
them from error to error, after suggesting to them all sorts of wants
and vices, they make them gamble, if they are of age; they hold up play
to them as an inexhaustible source of wealth.
The 'protector' next hands over his 'young friends' to 'executioners,'
who fleece them for the common benefit of the confederates. They do
not always wait for the coming of age of their young dupes in order to
strike the grand 'stroke.' When they find that the father of a family
shudders at the idea of a public scandal, they immolate their victim at
once--for fear lest he should escape from their hands. Of course they
are always open to 'capitulate'--to come to terms; and if the aid of the
law is invoked they give in discreetly.
About a century ago there flourished at Paris one of these adventurers,
who made a great noise and did a vast amount of evil. This man of a
thousand faces, this Proteus, as great a corrupter as he was corrupted,
changed his name, his quarters, and field of operations, according to
the exigences of business. Although a man of ardent temperament and
inconceivable activity, his cold-blooded rascality was never in a hurry.
He could wait; he could bide his time. Taking in, at a glance, all the
requirements of a case, and seeing through all its difficulties, he
worked out his scheme with the utmost patience and consummated his crime
with absolute security.
Sometimes he gave a concert for amateurs, elegant suppers for gay
ladies, and special soirees for the learned and the witty. He was not
particular as to the means of doing business; thus he trafficked
in everything,--for the sale of a living, or the procuration of a
mistress--for he had associates in all ranks, among all professions of
men.
He had twenty Faro tables in operation every night, whilst his
emissaries were on the watch for new arrivals, and for those who had
recently come into property.
In general, rogues soon betray themselves by some stupid bungle; but
such was not the case with this man; he defended himself, as it were, on
all sides, and always kept himself in position so as to oppose to
each of his vices the proof positive of the contrary virtues. Thus, if
accused of usury, he could prove that he had lent, without interest,
considerable sums of money. Cowardly and base in a tete-a-tete, he was
bold and redoubtable in public; those who had made him tremble in secret
were then compelled to acknowledge him a man of courage. Even his more
than suspected probity was defended by such as believed themselves his
depositaries, whereas they were, in point of fact, only receivers of
stolen property.
Affable, insinuating to a degree, he might be compared to those brigands
of Egypt who embraced their victims in order to strangle them.(1) He
never showed more devotedness than when he meditated some perfidy, nor
more assurance than when convicted of the rascality. Playing fast and
loose with honour and the laws, he was sure to find, when threatened by
the arm of justice, the female relatives of the judges themselves
taking his part and doing their best to 'get him off.' Such was this
extraordinary chevalier d'industrie, who might have gone on with his
diabolical perpetrations had he not, at last, attempted too much,
failing in the grandest stroke he had ever meditated--and yet a vulgar
fraud--when he was convicted, branded, and sent to the galleys.(2)
(1) Senec., Epist. Ii. (2) Dusaulx, De la Passion du Jeu.
The following narrative elucidates a still more modern phase of this
elegant 'industry.' My authority is M. Robert-Houdin.
CAUGHT IN A TRAP.
M. Olivier de ---- was a dissipated young gentleman. His family was
one of the oldest and most respectable of the country, and deservedly
enjoyed the highest consideration. M. Olivier de ----, his father, was
not rich, and therefore could not do much for his son; the consequence
was that owing to his outrageous prodigality the son was sorely pinched
for means to keep up his position; he exhausted his credit, and was soon
overwhelmed with debt. Among the companions of his dissipation was a
young man whose abundant means filled him with admiration and envy; he
lived like a prince and had not a single creditor. One day he asked his
friend to explain the mystery of the fact that, without possessing any
fortune, he could gratify all his tastes and fancies, whilst he himself,
with certain resources, was compelled to submit to privations, still
getting into debt.
Chauvignac--such was the name of the friend thus addressed--was a
card-sharper, and he instantly seized the opportunity to make something
out of the happy disposition of this modern prodigal son, this scion of
gentility. With the utmost frankness he explained to the young man his
wonderful method of keeping his pockets full of money, and showed that
nothing could be easier than for Olivier to go and do likewise in his
terrible condition;--in short, on one hand there were within his grasp,
riches, pleasure, all manner of enjoyment; on the other, pitiless
creditors, ruin, misery, and contempt. The tempter, moreover, offered to
initiate his listener in his infallible method of getting rich. In
his frame of mind Olivier yielded to the temptation, with the full
determination, if not to get money by cheating at cards, at any rate to
learn the method which might serve as a means of self-defence should
he not think proper to use it for attack--such was the final argument
suggested by the human Mephistopheles to his pupil.
Taking Olivier to his house, he showed him a pack of cards. 'Now here is
a pack of cards,' he said; 'there seems to be nothing remarkable about
it, does there?' Olivier examined the pack and declared that the cards
did not appear to differ in the least from all others. 'Well,' said
Chauvignac, 'nevertheless they have been subjected to a preparation
called biseautage, or having one end of the cards made narrower than the
other. This disposition enables us to remove from the pack such and such
cards and then to class them in the necessary order so that they may get
into the hand of the operator.' Chauvignac then proceeded to apply his
precepts by an example, and although the young man had no particular
qualification for the art of legerdemain, he succeeded at once to
admiration in a game at Ecarte, for he had already mastered the
first process of cheating. Having thus, as he thought, sufficiently
compromised his victim, Chauvignac left him to his temptations, and took
leave of him.
Two days afterwards the professor returned to his pupil and invited him
to accompany him on a pleasure trip. Olivier excused himself on account
of his desperate condition--one of his creditors being in pursuit of him
for a debt of one thousand francs. 'Is that all?' said Chauvignac; and
pulling out his pocket-book he added,--'Here's a bank-note; you can
repay me to-morrow.' 'Why, man, you are mad!' exclaimed Olivier. 'Be it
so,' said Chauvignac; 'and in my madness I give you credit for another
thousand-franc bank-note to go and get thirty thousand francs which
are waiting for you.' 'Now, do explain yourself, for you are driving
ME mad.' 'Nothing more easy. Here is the fact,' said Chauvignac. 'M. le
Comte de Vandermool, a wealthy Belgian capitalist, a desperate gamester
if ever there was one, and who can lose a hundred thousand francs
without much inconvenience, is now at Boulogne, where he will remain a
week. This millionnaire must be thinned a little. Nothing is easier. One
of my friends and confreres, named Chaffard, is already with the count
to prepare the way. We have only now to set to work. You are one of
us--that's agreed--and in a few days you will return, to satisfy your
creditors and buy your mistress a shawl.'
'Stop a bit. You are going too fast. Wait a little. I haven't as yet
said Yes,' replied Olivier. 'I don't want your Yes now; you will say
it at Boulogne. For the present go and pay your bill. We set out in
two hours; the post-horses are already ordered; we shall start from my
house: be punctual.'
The party reached Boulogne and put up at the Hotel de l'Univers. On
their arrival they were informed that no time was to be lost, as the
count talked of leaving next day. The two travellers took a hasty
dinner, and at once proceeded to the apartment of the Belgian
millionnaire. Chaffard, who had preceded them, introduced them as two of
his friends, whose property was situated in the vicinity of Boulogne.
M. le Comte de Vandermool was a man about fifty years of age, with
an open, candid countenance. He wore several foreign decorations. He
received the two gentlemen with charming affability; he did more; he
invited them to spend the evening with him. Of course the invitation
was accepted. When the conversation began to flag, the count proposed
a game--which was also, of course, very readily agreed to by the three
comperes.
While the table was prepared, Chauvignac gave his young friend two packs
of cards, to be substituted for those which should be furnished by the
count. Ecarte was to be the game, and Olivier was to play, the two other
associates having pretended to know nothing about the game, and saying
that they would content themselves by betting with each other. Of course
Olivier was rather surprised at this declaration, but he soon understood
by certain signs from Chauvignac that this reservation was intended to
do away with the count's suspicions, in case of their success.
The count, enormously rich as he was, would only play for bank-notes.
'Metal smells bad in a room,' he said. The novice, at first confused
at being a party to the intended roguery, followed the dictates of his
conscience and, neglecting the advantages of his hands, trusted merely
to chance. The result was that the only thousand-franc bank-note he had
was speedily transferred to the count. At that moment Chauvignac gave
him a significant look, and this, together with the desire to retrieve
his loss, induced him to put into execution the culpable manoeuvres
which his friend had taught him. His work was of the easiest; the count
was so short-sighted that he had to keep his nose almost upon the cards
to see them. Chance now turned, as might be expected, and thousand-franc
bank-notes soon accumulated in the hands of Olivier, who, intoxicated by
this possession, worked away with incredible ardour. Moreover, the
count was not in the least out of humour at losing so immensely; on the
contrary, he was quite jovial; indeed, from his looks he might have been
supposed to be the winner. At length, however, he said with a smile,
taking a pinch from his golden snuff-box--'I am evidently not in vein. I
have lost eighty thousand francs. I see that I shall soon be in for one
hundred thousand. But it is proper, my dear sir, that I should say I
don't make a habit of losing more than this sum at a sitting; and if
it must be so, I propose to sup before losing my last twenty thousand
francs. Perhaps this will change my vein. I think you will grant me this
indulgence.' The proposal was agreed to.
Olivier, almost out of his senses at the possession of eighty thousand
francs, could not resist the desire of expressing his gratitude to
Chauvignac, which he did, grasping his hand with emotion and leading him
into a corner of the room.
Alas! the whole thing was only an infamous conspiracy to ruin the young
man. The Belgian capitalist, this count apparently so respectable, was
only an expert card-sharper whom Chauvignac had brought from Paris to
play out the vile tragi-comedy, the denouement of which would be the
ruin of the unfortunate Olivier.
At the moment when the latter left the card-table to go to Chauvignac,
the pretended millionnaire changed the pack of cards they had been using
for two other packs.
Supper went off very pleasantly. They drank very moderately, for the
head had to be kept cool for what had to follow. They soon sat down
again at the card-table. 'Now,' said the Parisian card-shaper, on
resuming his seat, 'I should like to end the matter quickly: I will
stake the twenty thousand francs in a lump.'
Olivier, confident of success after his previous achievement, readily
assented; but, alas, the twenty thousand francs of which he made sure
was won by his adversary.
Forty thousand francs went in like manner. Olivier, breathless, utterly
prostrate, knew not what to do. All his manoeuvres were practised in
vain; he could give himself none but small cards. His opponent had
his hands full of trumps, and HE dealt them to him! In his despair he
consulted Chauvignac by a look, and the latter made a sign to him to go
on. The wretched young man went on, and lost again. Bewildered, beside
himself, he staked fabulous sums to try and make up for his losses, and
very soon found, in his turn, that he owed his adversary one hundred
thousand francs(L4166)!
At this point the horrible denouement commenced. The pretended count
stopped, and crossing his arms on his breast, said sternly--'Monsieur
Olivier de ----, you must be very rich to stake so glibly such enormous
sums. Of course you know your fortune and can square yourself with
it; but, however rich you may be, you ought to know that it is not
sufficient to lose a hundred thousand francs, but that you must pay it.
Besides, I have given you the example. Begin, therefore, by putting down
the sum I have won from you; after which we can go on.' . . .
'Nothing can be more proper, sir,' stammered out young Olivier, 'I am
ready to satisfy you; but, after all, you know that . . . .
gaming debts . . . . my word . . . .'
'The d--l! sir,' said the pretended count, giving the table a violent
blow with his fist--'Why do you talk to me about your WORD. Gad! You are
well entitled to appeal to the engagements of honour! Well! We have
now to play another game on this table, and we must speak out plainly.
Monsieur Olivier de ----, you are a rogue . . . Yes, a rogue! The cards
we have been using are biseautees and YOU brought them hither.'
'Sir! . . You insult me!' said Olivier.
'Indeed? Well, sir, that astonishes me!' replied the false Belgian
ironically.
'That is too much, sir. I demand satisfaction, and that on the very
instant. Do you understand me? Let us go out at once.'
'No! no! We must end this quarrel here, sir. Look here--your two friends
shall be your "seconds;" I am now going to send for MINE.'
The card-sharper, who had risen at these words, rang the bell violently.
His own servant entered. 'Go,' said he, 'to the Procureur de Roi, and
request him to come here on a very important matter. Be as quick as you
can.'
'Oh, sir, be merciful! Don't ruin me!' exclaimed the wretched Olivier;
'I will do what you like.' At these words, the sharper told his servant
to wait behind the door, and to execute his order if he should hear
nothing to the contrary in ten minutes.
'And now, sir,' continued the sharper, turning to Olivier, 'and
now, sir, for the business between you and me. These cards have been
substituted by you in the place of those which I supplied . . . You must
do them up, write your name upon the cover, and seal it with the coat of
arms on your ring.'
Olivier looked first at Chauvignac and then at Chaffard, but both the
fellows only made signs to him to resign himself to the circumstances.
He did what was ordered.
'That is not all, sir,' added the false Belgian; 'I have fairly won
money from you and have a right to demand a guarantee for payment. You
must draw me short bills for the sum of one hundred thousand francs.'
As the wretched young man hesitated to comply with this demand, his
pitiless creditor rose to ring the bell.
'Don't ring, sir, don't ring,' said Olivier, 'I'll sign.'
He signed, and the villany was consummated. Olivier returned to his
family and made an humble avowal of his fault and his engagements. His
venerable father received the terrible blow with resignation, and paid
the 100,000 francs, estimating his honour far above that amount of
money.(3)
(3) This narrative is condensed from the account of the affair by
Robert-Hondin, Tricherics des Grecs devoilees.
AN ATTORNEY 'DONE' BY A GAMBLER.
A turfite and gambler, represented under the letters of Mr H--e, having
lost all his money at Doncaster and the following York Meeting, devised
a plan, with his coadjutor, to obtain the means for their departure from
York, which, no doubt, will be considered exceedingly ingenious.
He had heard of an attorney in the town who was very fond of Backgammon;
and on this simple piece of information an elaborate plan was concocted.
Mr H--e feigned illness, went to bed, and sent for a large quantity of
tartar emetic, which he took. After he had suffered the operation of
the first dose he sent for a doctor, who pronounced him, of course, very
languid and ill; and not knowing the cause, ordered him more medicine,
which the patient took good care not to allow to stay on his stomach.
On the second day he asked the doctor, with great gravity, if he
considered him in danger, adding, 'because he had never made a WILL to
bequeath his property.' The doctor replied, 'No, not in absolute danger,
but there was no harm in making a WILL.'
The attorney, accordingly, was sent for--of course the very man wished
for--the lover of Backgammon before mentioned. The good man came; he
took the 'instructions,' and drew up the last will and testament of the
ruined turfite, who left (in the will) about L50,000, which no man ever
heard of, living or dead.
The BUSINESS being done, the patient said that if he had a moment's
relaxation he thought he should rally and overcome the malady. The poor
lawyer said if he could in any way contribute to his comfort he should
be happy. The offer was embraced by observing that if he could sit up in
bed--but he was afraid he was not able--a hit at Backgammon would be a
great source of amusement.
The lawyer, like all adepts in such matters, was only too willing to
catch at the idea; the board was brought.
Of course the man who had L50,000 to leave behind could not be expected
to play 'for love;' and so when Mr H--e proposed 'a pound a hit or
treble a gammon,' the lawyer not only thought it reasonable, but,
conscious of his power in the game, eagerly accepted the terms of
playing. They played; but the lawyer was gammoned almost
incessantly, till he lost L50. Then H--e proposed 'double or quits to
L1000,'--thereupon the poor lawyer, believing that fortune could not
always forsake him, said he had but L2000 in the world, but that he
would set the L1000. He lost; and became almost frantic. In the midst
of his excessive grief, H--e said, 'You have a HORSE, what is it worth?'
L50 was the answer. 'Well, well, you may win all back now, and I'll set
L50 on your horse.'
They began again. Lost! 'You have a COW in your paddock, haven't you?
What's that worth?' asked Mr H--e. The attorney said L12. 'Well, I'll
set that sum by way of giving you a chance.' The game proceeded, and the
poor lawyer, equally unfortunate, raved and swore he had lost his last
shilling. 'No, no!' said H--e,' you have not: I saw a HAY-RICK in your
ground. It is of no use now that the horse and cow are gone--what is
that worth?' L15, replied the attorney, with a sigh. 'I set L15 then,'
said H--e.
This seemed to be 'rather too much' for the lawyer. The loss of
the hay-rick--like the last straw laid on the overladen camel's
back--staggered him. Besides, he thought he saw--as doubtless he did
see--H--e twisting his fingers round one of the dice. Up he started at
once, and declared that he was cheated!
Thereupon the sick man forgot his sickness, jumped out of bed, and gave
the lawyer a regular drubbing, got the cheque for the L2000,--but the
horse, cow, and hay he said he would leave 'until further orders.'
A VERY CURIOUS STORY.
An Archbishop of Canterbury was once on a tour, when a genteel man,
apparently in earnest conversation, though alone in a wood, attracted
his notice. His Grace made up to him, and, after a little previous
conversation, asked him what he was about.
Stranger. 'I am at play.'
Archbishop. 'At play? With whom? I see nobody.'
Sir. 'I own, sir, my antagonist is not visible: I am playing
with God.'
Abp. 'At what game, pray, sir?'
Str. 'At Chess.'
Abp. 'Do you play for anything?'
Str. 'Certainly.'
Abp. 'You cannot have any chance, as your adversary must be so
superior to you.'
Str. 'He takes no advantage, but plays merely as a man.'
Abp. 'When you win or lose, how do you settle accounts?'
Str. 'Very exactly and punctually.'
Abp. 'Indeed! Pray, how stands your game now?'
Str. 'There! I have just lost!'
Abp. 'How much have you lost?'
Str. 'Fifty guineas.'
Abp. 'How do you manage to pay it? Does God take your money?'
Str. 'No! The poor are his treasurers. He always sends some
worthy person to receive it, and you are at present his
purse-bearer.'
Saying this, the stranger put fifty guineas into his Grace's hand, and
retired, adding--'I shall play no more to-day.'
The prelate was delighted; though he could not tell what to make of this
extraordinary man. The guineas were all good; and the archbishop applied
them to the use of the poor, as he had been directed.
The archbishop, on his return, stopped at the same town, and could
not help going in search of the chess-player, whom he found engaged as
before, when the following dialogue ensued:--
Abp. 'How has the chance stood since we met before?'
Str. 'Sometimes for me--sometimes against me. I have lost and
won.'
Abp. 'Are you at play now?'
Str. 'Yes, sir. We have played several games to-day.'
Abp. 'Who wins?'
Str. 'The advantage is on my side. The game is just over. I
have a fine stroke--check-mate--there it is.'
Abp. 'How much have you won?'
Str. 'Five hundred guineas.'
Abp. 'That is a large sum. How are you to be paid?'
Str. 'God always sends some good rich man when I win, and YOU
are the person. He is remarkably punctual on these occasions.'
The archbishop had received a considerable sum on that day, as the
stranger knew; and so, producing a pistol by way of receipt, he
compelled the delivery of it. His Grace now discovered that he had
been the dupe of a thief; and though he had greatly bruited his first
adventure, he prudently kept his own counsel in regard to the last.
Such is the tale. Se non e vero e ben trovato.
SKITTLE SHARPERS.
'I know a respectable tradesman,' says a writer in Cassell's
Magazine--'I know him now, for he lives in the house he occupied at the
time of my tale--who was sent for to see a French gentleman at a tavern,
on business connected with the removal of this gentleman's property from
one of the London docks. The business, as explained by the messenger,
promising to be profitable, he of course promptly obeyed the summons,
and during his walk found that his conductor had once been in service
in France. This delighted Mr Chase--the name by which I signify the
tradesman--for he, too, had once so lived in France; and by the time he
reached the tavern he had talked himself into a very good opinion of
his new patron. The French gentleman was very urbane, gave Mr Chase his
instructions, let him understand expense was not to be studied, and, as
he was at lunch, would not be satisfied unless the tradesman sat down
with him. This was a great honour for the latter, as he found his
employer was a baron. Well, the foreigner was disposed to praise
everything English; he was glad he had come to live in London--Paris was
nothing to it; they had nothing in France like the English beer, with
which, in the exuberance of his hospitality, he filled and refilled Mr
Chase's glass; but that which delighted him above all that he had seen
"vos de leetle game vid de ball--vot you call--de--de--aha! de skittel."
Mr Chase assented that it was a very nice game certainly; and the French
gentleman seeming by this time to have had quite enough beer, insisted,
before they went to the docks--which was essential--that they should see
just one game played.
'As he insisted on paying Mr Chase for all the time consumed with him,
and as his servant, of course, could not object, the party adjourned
to the "Select Subscription Ground" at once. In the ground there was a
quiet, insignificant-looking little man, smoking a cigar; and as
they were so few, he was asked to assist, which, after considerable
hesitation and many apologies for his bad play, he did. The end is of
course guessed. The French gentleman was a foolish victim, with more
money than wits, who backed himself to do almost impossible feats, when
it was evident he could not play at all, and laid sovereigns against the
best player, who was the little stranger, doing the easiest. What with
the excitement, and what with the beer, which was probably spiced with
some unknown relish a little stronger than nutmeg, Mr Chase could not
help joining in winning the foreign gentleman's money; it seemed no
harm, he had so much of it.
'By a strange concurrence of events, it so happened that by random
throws the Frenchman sometimes knocked all the pins down at a
single swoop, though he clearly could not play--Mr Chase was sure
of that--while the skilful player made every now and then one of the
blunders to which the best players are liable. That the tradesman lost
forty sovereigns will be easily understood; and did his tale end here
it would have differed so little from a hundred others as scarcely to
deserve telling; but it will surprise many, as it did me, to learn that
he then walked to and from his own house--a distance of precisely a
mile each way--fetched a bill for thirty pounds, which a customer had
recently paid him, got it discounted, went back to the skittle-ground,
and, under the same malignant star, lost the whole.
'It was the only case in my experience of the work going on smoothly
after such a break. I never could account for it, nor could Mr Chase.
Great was the latter's disgust, on setting the police to work, to find
that the French nobleman, his servant, and the quiet stranger, were all
dwellers within half a mile or so of his own house, and slightly known
to him--men who had trusted, and very successfully, to great audacity
and well-arranged disguise.'
A vast deal of gambling still goes on with skittles all over the
country. At a place not ten miles from London, I am told that as much as
two thousand pounds has been seen upon the table in a single 'alley,'
or place of play. The bets were, accordingly, very high. The instances
revealed by exposure at the police-courts give but a faint idea of the
extent of skittle sharping.
Amidst such abuses of the game, it can scarcely surprise us that the
police have been recently directed to prohibit all playing at skittles
and bowls. However much we may regret the interference with popular
pastimes, in themselves unobjectionable, it is evident that their
flagrant abuse warrants the most stringent measures in order to prevent
their constantly repeated and dismal consequences. Even where money was
not played for, pots of beer were the wager--leading, in many instances,
to intoxication, or promoting this habit, which is the cause of so much
misery among the lower orders.