I was attending the races at Fairfield and it was a field day. Of
course there was a large crowd present, the gambling stands were well
patronized, as usual and at one particular table there was a large
farmer betting very freely, who seemed to have plenty of money, and a
smart fellow who lived in the city observed the way things were
running, for every time the farmer put down a bet the dealer would win
and raked it in. So after that every time the farmer would make a bet,
this man would put one down opposite, or bet against him, and this
continued until the farmer had exhausted his pile; the Richmond man
winning all the bets, which did not please the dealer, who said to
him, "Why don't you let an honest man make a living?" The man saw that
the gambler was fleecing the farmer, and he had coppered and won of
course, thus blocking the dealer's game.
President James Monroe's remains were brought to Richmond and interred
in Hollywood Cemetery, having as an escort of honor the famous Seventh
Regiment of New York. This was the finest volunteer military
organization that I ever saw, it being the crack corps of that city;
they marched like a machine, their alignment was perfect; the uniforms
were grey dress coats. The hospitality of the people of the city was
extensive and most cordial. The visitors were not allowed to open
their pocketbooks for anything purchasable; even if they went in for a
cigar, it was already paid for, they were informed. Being composed of
the best citizens of the Metropolis, gentlemen all, they did not abuse
the privileges granted them in the slightest degree.