THE GAMBLERS.
The life of a professional gambler is not passed in a constant whirl of
excitement, as the uninitiated may suppose; neither is it a continual
source of pleasure to him, as many of the fraternity in Toronto could
testify did they wish to relate their Police Court reminiscences, or
the enjoyment they experienced during their somewhat erratic periods of
“financial depression.” The crime of gambling at cards increases with the
growth of every city and for some reason or other the police make but
spasmodic efforts to suppress it. This appears to be especially the case
in Toronto, where the members of this thieving profession openly defy the
detectives and laugh at the puny efforts of the police constables and
their officers, who have sometimes occasion to visit the houses in search
of thieves. Neither the constables nor the detectives are to blame for
this deplorable state of affairs, but the heads of the department are,
because they know that the evil exists; know that young men are nightly
receiving their first lessons in those dishonest practices that tend to
damn their whole future prospects, and yet will not issue the mandate
that would rid the city of these unprincipled professional gamblers,
these miserable curs of society. Not long ago, at a Police Court trial,
the Magistrate remarked that he looked upon a professional gambler as a
more degraded being than a common street thief, and explained his meaning
by adding that a thief boldly takes the chances of securing his spoil
or a term in prison, while the gambler first secures the confidence of
his victim, and then by subtle cheating robs him of his money. And yet
as a Police Commissioner he details about two hundred constables and
seven detectives to hunt down the thieves, and allows the gambling hells
to flourish on the principal streets. The Magistrate is not alone in
this neglect of duty. Mayor Boswell is chairman of the Board of Police
Commissioners, and his Honor Judge Boyd sits by his side. Are these
gentlemen aware that night after night scores of young men are being
ENTICED INTO THESE DENS?
Are they aware that night after night they are exposing the children of
their old friends, perhaps their own boys, to the temptations provided
by the proprietors of these soul-destroying caves of iniquity,—to the
fascinations of the gaming table? Are they aware that many young men
highly connected in Toronto, have not only blasted their reputations and
their prospects, but have rendered themselves liable to a felon’s doom by
robbing their employers to pay an “honorable” debt at cards,—a debt never
really contracted excepting through the medium of marked cards or like
devices? If they be not aware of these things let them study the police
records, and should they not be successful in their search let them
accompany a detective on night duty in his rambles through Toronto by
Gas-light. The writer has done so on many occasions during the past ten
years, and has witnessed such scenes of dissipation, such open cheating
and deliberate robbery of inexperienced boys, and has heard so many
expressions of remorse and despair that he cannot but feel surprised that
the fathers and mothers who have wept tears of blood over their erring
and deluded boys, that the merchants who have been robbed and the victims
themselves do not rise up and demand the heads of the police department
to suppress this gigantic evil at once. Perhaps they will when Major
Draper, Chief of Police, gets tired of shooting alligators in Florida.