We had a great "graft," before the war, on the Upper Mississippi,
between St. Louis and St. Charles. We would go up on a boat and
back by rail. One night going up we had done a good business in
our line, and were just putting up the shutters, when a man stepped
up and said "he could turn the right card." My partner, Posey
Jeffers, was doing the honors that night, and he said, "I will bet
from $1 to $10,000 that no man can pick out the winning ticket."
The man pulled out a roll nearly as large as a pillow, and put up
$5,000. Posey put up the same amount, and over the card went for
$5,000; but it was not the winner. "Mix them up again," said the
man, and he put up the same sum as before. He turned, and Posey
put the second $5,000 in his pocket. The man then went away as if
to lose $10,000 was an every-day thing with him. We then closed
up our "banking house," well pleased with ourselves. The next day
we were counting our cash, and we found we had on hand $10,000 in
nice new bills on the State Bank of Missouri, but it was counterfeit.
We deposited it in the (fire) bank, as we had no immediate use for
it.