ABOLITION OF LICENSED GAMBLING.
BATON ROUGE--FLORIDA PARISHES--DISSATISFACTION--WHERE THERE'S A WILL,
THERE'S A WAY--STORMING A FORT ON HORSEBACK--ANNEXATION AT THE POINT
OF THE POKER--RAPHIGNAC AND LARRY MOORE--FIGHTING THE "TIGER"--CARRYING
A PRACTICAL JOKE TOO FAR--A SILVER TEA-SET.
That portion of Louisiana known as the Florida parishes, and consisting
of the parishes east of the Mississippi, was part of West Florida, and
was almost entirely settled by Americans when a Spanish province. Baton
Rouge, which takes its name from the flagstaff which stood in the
Spanish fort, and which was painted red, (_baton_ meaning stick, and
_rouge_, red, to Anglicize the name would make it red stick,) was the
seat of power for that part or portion of the province. Here was a
small Spanish garrison: on the opposite bank was Louisiana; New Orleans
was the natural market and outlet for the productions of these Florida
settlements.
When the cession of Louisiana to the United States occurred, these
American settlers, desirous of returning to American rule, were
restless, and united in their dissatisfaction with Spanish control.
They could devise no plan by which this could be effected. Their people
reached back from the river, along the thirty-first degree of north
latitude, far into the interior, and extended thence to the lake
border. On three sides they were encompassed by an American population
and an American government. They had carried with them into this
country all their American habits, and all their love for American laws
and American freedom; to the east they were separated by an immense
stretch of barren pine-woods from any other settlements upon Spanish
soil. Pensacola was the seat of governmental authority, and this was
too far away to extend the feeble arm of Spanish rule over these
people. They were pretty much without legal government, save such laws
and rule as had been by common consent established. These were all
American in character, and, to all intents, this was an American
settlement, almost in the midst of an American government, and yet
without the protection of that or any other government. It was evident
that at no distant day the Floridas must fall into the hands of the
American Government. But there was to these people an immediate
necessity for their doing so at once. They could not wait. But, what
could they do? Among these people were many adventurous and determined
men: they had mostly emigrated from the West--Tennessee, Kentucky,
Western Pennsylvania, and Virginia; and some were the descendants of
those who had gone to the country from the South, in 1777 and '8, to
avoid the consequences of the Revolutionary War. This class of men met
in council, and secretly determined to revolutionize the country, take
possession of the Spanish fort, and ask American protection.
They desired to be attached to Louisiana as a part of that State. This,
however, they could not effect without the consent of the State; and to
ask this consent was deemed useless, until they were first recognized
as part of the United States. In this dilemma, a veteran of the
Revolution, and an early pioneer to Kentucky, and thence to West
Florida, said: "'Wherever there is a will, there is a way:' we must
first get rid of the Spanish authority, and look out for what may
follow."
They secretly assembled a small force, and, upon a concerted day, met
in secret, and under the cover of night approached the vicinity of the
fort. Here they lay _perdu_, and entirely unsuspected by the Spanish
Governor Gayoso. As day was approaching, they moved forward on
horseback, and entered the open gate of the fort, and demanded its
immediate surrender. The only opposition made to the assault was by
young Gayoso, the governor's son, who was instantly slain, when the
fort surrendered unconditionally. Perhaps this is the only instance in
the history of wars that a fort was ever stormed on horseback. Thomas,
Morgan, Moore, Johnson, and Kemper were the leaders in this enterprise.
They were completely successful, and the Spanish authorities were
without the means to subdue them to their duty as Spanish subjects.
The next step in their action was now to be decided. If the Government
of the United States attempted their protection, it would be cause for
war with Spain; and it was deemed best to organize under the laws of
Louisiana, and ask annexation to that State. This was done. Members of
the Legislature were elected in obedience to the laws of this State,
and appeared at the meeting of that body, and asked to be admitted as
members representing the late Florida parishes, then, as they assumed,
a part and portion of the State.
When asked by what authority they claimed to be a part of the State,
they answered, succinctly: "We have thrown off the Spanish yoke, and,
as free and independent Americans, have annexed ourselves and the
parishes we represent to this State, and claim as our right
representation in this Legislature: we have joined ourselves to you,
because it is our interest to do so, and yours, too; and we mean to be
accepted." At the head of this representation was Thomas, who was the
commander of the party capturing the fort; associated with him was
Larry Moore. Thomas came from the river parishes; Moore from those
contiguous to the lakes; both were Kentuckians, both illiterate, and
both determined men. They did not speak as suppliants for favors, but
as men demanding a right. They knew nothing of national law, and,
indeed, very little of any other law; but were men of strong common
sense, and clearly understood what was the interest of their people and
their own, and, if determination could accomplish it, they meant to
have it.
There were in the Legislature, at the time, two men of strong minds,
well cultivated--Blanc and Raphignac; they represented the city, were
Frenchmen--not French Creoles, but natives of _la belle_ France. They
led the opposition to the admission of the Florida parishes as part of
the State, and their representatives as members of the Legislature.
They were acquainted with national law, and appreciated the comity of
nations, and were indisposed to such rash and informal measures as were
proposed by Thomas and Moore. The portion of the State bordering upon
this Spanish territory, and especially that part on the Mississippi,
were anxious for the admission and union; they were unwilling that
Spain should participate in the control and navigation of any part of
the river; and, being peaceable and law-abiding, they wanted such close
neighbors subject to the same government and laws. The influence of
Blanc and Raphignac was likely to carry the majority and reject the
application of the Floridans.
The pertinacious opposition of these men inflamed to anger Moore and
Thomas. The matter, to them, was life or death. By some means they must
get under the American flag, and they saw the only preventive in these
two men. Moore (for it was a cold day when the decision was to be made)
was seen to place the iron poker in the fire, and leave it there.
Thomas was replying to Blanc in a most inflammatory and eloquent
address; for, though rude and unlettered, he was full of native
eloquence, and was very fluent: if he could not clothe his strong
thoughts in pure English, he could in words well understood and keenly
felt. They stimulated Moore almost to frenzy.
At that critical moment Raphignac walked to the fireplace, where Moore
had remained sitting and listening to Thomas. Warm words were passing
between Thomas and Blanc, when suddenly Moore grasped the heated
poker--the end in the fire being at white heat--and calling to Thomas
with a stentorian voice, "General Thomas! you take that white-headed
French scoundrel, and I'll take blue-nose," and, brandishing his hot
poker over his head, he charged, as with the bayonet, pointing the
poker at the stomach of Raphignac. "_Tonnerre!_" exclaimed the
frightened Frenchman, and, lifting both hands, he fell back against the
wall. Moore still held the poker close to his stomach, as he called
aloud, "Take the question, General Thomas! We come here to be admitted,
and d--- me if we won't be, or this goes through your bread-basket, I
tell you, Mr. Raphy Blue-nose!" Raphignac was a tall, thin man, with a
terribly large bottled nose. At the end it was purple as the grape
which had caused it. The question was put, and the proposition was
carried, amid shouts of laughter. "Oh!" said Raphignac, as the poker
was withdrawn, and Moore with it, "vat a d--- ole savage is dat Larry
Moore!" Thus a part of West Florida became a part of Louisiana.
From that day forward, many of these men became most prominent citizens
of the State. The son of Johnson--one of the leaders--became its
Governor. Thomas was frequently a member of the Legislature, and once a
member of Congress, from the Baton Rouge district, where he resided,
and where he now sleeps in an honored grave. Morgan and Moore were
frequently members of the Legislature. But of all the participants in
this affair, Thomas was most conspicuous and most remarkable. He was
almost entirely without education; but was gifted with great good
sense, a bold and honest soul, and a remarkable natural eloquence. His
manner was always natural and genial--never, under any circumstances,
embarrassed or affected; and in whatever company he was thrown, or
however much a stranger to the company, somehow he became the
conspicuous man in a short time. The character in his face, the flash
of his eye, the remarkable self-possession, the natural dignity of
deportment, and his great good sense, attracted, and won upon every
one. In all his transactions, he was the same plain, honest man--never,
under any circumstances, deviating from truth--plain, unvarnished
truth; rigidly stern in morals, but eminently charitable to the
shortcomings of others. He was, from childhood, reared in a new
country, amid rude, uncultivated people, and was a noble specimen of a
frontier man; without the amenities of cultivated life, or the polish
of education, yet with all the virtues of the Christian heart, and
these, perhaps, the more prominently, because of the absence of the
others. It was frequently remarked by him that he did not think
education would have been of any advantage to him. It enabled men, with
pretty words, to hide their thoughts, and deceive their fellow-men with
a grace and an ease he despised; and it might have acted so with him,
but it would have made him a worse and a more unhappy man. He now never
did or said anything that he was ashamed to think of. He did not want
to conceal his feelings and opinions, because he did not know how to do
it; and he was sure if he attempted it he should make a fool of
himself; for lies required so much dressing up in pretty words to make
them look like truth, that he should fail for want of words; and truth
was always prettiest when naked. In the main, the General was correct;
but there are some who lie with a _naiveté_ so perfect that even he
would have deemed it truth naked and unadorned.
Larry Moore was a different man, but quite as illiterate and bold as
Thomas, without his abilities; yet he was by no means devoid of mind.
He resided upon the lake border, in the flat pine country, where the
land is poor, and the people are ignorant and bigoted. Larry was far
from being bigoted, save in his politics. He had been a Jeffersonian
Democrat, he knew; but he did not know why. He lived off the road, and
did not take the papers. He knew Jefferson had bought Louisiana and her
people, and, as he understood, at seventy-five cents a head. He did not
complain of the bargain, though he thought, if old Tom had seen them
before the bargain was clinched, he would have hesitated to pay so
much. But, anyhow, he had given the country a free government and a
legislature of her own, and he was a Jefferson man, or Democrat, or
whatever you call his party. He had been sent to the Legislature, and
volunteered to meet the British under General Jackson.
From Jefferson to Jackson he transferred all his devotion; because the
one bought, and the other fought for, the country. Some part of the
glory of the successful defence of New Orleans was his, for he had
fought for it, side by side with Old Hickory; and he loved him because
he had imprisoned Louallier and Hall. The one was a Frenchman, the
other an Englishman, and both were enemies of Jackson and the country.
Now he adored General Jackson, and was a Jackson Democrat. He did not
know the meaning of the word, but he understood that it was the slogan
of the dominant party, and that General Jackson was the head of that
party. He knew he was a Jackson man, and felt whatever Jackson did was
right, and he would swear to it. He was courageous and independent;
feared no one nor anything; was always ready to serve a friend, or
fight an enemy--_a fist-fight_; was kind to his neighbors, and always
for the under dog in the fight. It would, after this, be supererogatory
to say he was popular with such a people as his neighbors and
constituents. Whenever he chose he was sent to the Senate by three
parishes, or to the House by one; and in the Legislature he was always
conspicuous. He knew the people he represented, and could say or do
what he pleased; and for any offence he might give, was ready to settle
with words, or a _fist-fight_. Physically powerful, he knew there were
but few who, in a rough-and-tumble, could compete with him; and when
his adversary yielded, he would give him his hand to aid him from the
ground, or to settle it amicably in words. "Any way to have peace," was
his motto.
There was, however, a different way of doing things in New Orleans,
where the Legislature met. Gentlemen were not willing to wear a black
eye, or bruised face, from the hands or cudgels of ruffians. They had a
short way of terminating difficulties with them. A stiletto or
Derringer returned the blow, and the Charity Hospital or potter's field
had a new patient or victim. These were places for which Larry had no
special _penchant_, and in the city he was careful to avoid rows or
personal conflicts. He knew he was protected by the Constitution from
arrest, or responsibility for words uttered in debate, and this was all
he knew of the Constitution; yet he was afraid that for such words as
might be offensive he would be likely to meet some one who would seek
revenge in the night, and secretly. These responsibilities he chose to
shun, by guarding his tongue by day, and keeping his chamber at night.
Sometimes, however, in company with those whom he could trust, he would
visit, at night, Prado's or Hicks's saloon, and play a little, just for
amusement, with the "tiger."
Now, in the heyday of Larry's political usefulness, gaming was a
licensed institution in the city of New Orleans. The magnificent
charity of the State, the Hospital for the Indigent, was sustained by
means derived from this tax.
It was the enlightened policy of French legislation to tax a vice which
could not be suppressed by criminal laws. The experience of
civilization has, or ought to have taught every people, that the vice
of gaming is one which no law can reach so completely as to suppress
_in toto_. Then, if it will exist, disarm it as much as possible of the
power to harm--let it be taxed, and give the exclusive privilege to
game to those who pay the tax and keep houses for the purpose of
gaming. These will effectually suppress it. Everywhere else they are
entitled to the game, and will keep close watch that it runs into no
other net. Let this tax be appropriated to the support of an
institution where, in disease and indigence, its victims may find
support and relief. Make it public, that all may see and know its
_habitués_, and who may feel the reforming influence of public opinion.
For, at last, this is the only power by which the morals of a community
are preserved. Let laws punish crimes--public opinion reform vices.
Larry was a lawmaker, and though he loved a little fun at times, even
at the expense of the law, he was very solicitous as to the health of
the public morals. In several visits at Prado's, he was successful in
plucking some of the hair from the tiger. It was exceedingly pleasant
to have a little pocket-change to evince his liberality socially with
his friends, when it did not trench upon the crop, which was always a
lean one on the sand-plains of St. Helena; for, like the great
Corsican, Larry had a desolate home in St. Helena.
On one occasion, however, he went too close to the varmint, and
returned to his little dirty apartments on the Rue Rampart minus all
his gains, with a heavy instalment from the crop. His wonted spirits
were gone. He moped to the State House, and he sat melancholy in his
seat; he heeded not even the call of the yeas and nays upon important
legislation. Larry was sick at heart, sick in his pocket, and was only
seen to pluck up spirit enough to go to the warrant-clerk, and humbly
insist upon a warrant on the treasurer for a week's pay to meet a
week's board. On Monday, however, he came into the Senate with more
buoyancy of spirit than had been his wont for some days; for Larry was
a senator now, and had under his special charge and guardianship the
people and their morals of three extensive parishes.
The Senate was scarcely organized and the minutes read, when it was
plain Larry meant mischief. The hour for motions had arrived, and Larry
was on his feet: he cleared his throat, and, throwing back his head,
said: "Mr. President, I have a motion in my hand, which I will read to
the Senate:
"'_Resolved_, That a joint committee, of one from the Senate, and two
from the House, be appointed to report a bill abolishing licensed
gaming in the city of New Orleans.'"
Larry had declared war, for he added, as he sent his resolution to the
clerk's desk: "At the proper time I mean to say something about these
damnable hells." Throughout the city there was a buzz; for at that time
New Orleans had not the fourth of her present population. Any move of
this sort was soon known to its very extremes. The trustees of the
hospital, the stockholders in these licensed faro-banks--for they were,
like all robbing-machines, joint-stock companies--and many who honestly
believed this the best system to prevent gaming as far as possible,
were seen hanging about the lobbies of the Legislature. Each had his
argument in favor of continuing the license, but all were based upon
the same motive--interest. The public morals would be greatly injured,
instead of being improved; where there were only four gaming
establishments, there would be fifty; instead of being open and public,
they would be hid away in private, dark places, to which the young and
the innocent would be decoyed and fleeced; merchants could not
supervise the conduct of their clerks--these would be robbed by their
employes. As the thing stood now, cheating operated a forfeiture of
charter or license: this penalty removed, cheating would be universal.
"What would become of the hospital?" the tax-payer asked. "God knows,
our taxes are onerous enough now, and to add to these the eighty
thousand dollars now paid by the gamblers--why, the people would not
stand it, and this great and glorious charity would be destroyed."
To all of these arguments Larry was deaf; his constituents expected it
of him; the Christian Church demanded it. They were responsible to
Heaven for this great sin. The pious prayers of the good sisters of the
holy Methodist Church, as well as those of the Baptist, had at last
reached the ears of the Almighty, and he, Larry, felt himself the
instrument in His hands to put down the _d----d infernal sons of
b----_, who were robbing the innocent and unsuspecting.
There was no use of urging arguments of this sort to him: if the
Charity Hospital fell, _let_ her fall, and if the indigent afflicted
could not find relief elsewhere, why, they must die--they had to die
anyhow at some time, and he didn't see much use in their living,
anyhow; and as for the taxes, he was not much concerned about that: he
had but little to be taxed, and his constituents had less. "I, or they,
as you see, are not very responsible on that score. By the God of
Moses, this licensed gambling was a sin and a curse, if it did support
seven or eight thousand people in the Charity Hospital every year: that
was the reason so many died there, the curse of God was on the place;
for the Scripture says, the 'wages of sin is death,' and I see this
Scripture fulfilled right here in that hospital, and the moral and
religious portion of my constituents so feel it, and I am bound to
represent them. And the d----d gamblers were no friends of mine or of
the Church."
There was one, a little dark-moustached Spaniard, who was listening and
peering at him, with eyes black and pointed as a chincapin, and,
murmuring softly in Spanish, turned and went away. "What did that
d----d black-muzzled whelp say?" Larry asked. "I don't understand their
d----d lingo." An unobtrusive individual in the background translated
it for him. He said: "He who strikes with the tongue, should always be
ready to guard with the hands!" "What in the h--- does he mean by
that?" asked Larry. "_Je ne sais pas!_" said one whom Larry remembered
to have seen in the tiger's den, and apparently familiar there, for he
had been on the wrong side of the table.
"I suppose they mean to shoot me." The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders
most knowingly. Larry grew pale, and walked from the lobby to his seat.
Here he knew he was safe. He laid his head in his palm, and rested it
there for many minutes. At last, he said sharply: "Let them shoot, and
be d----d."
The committee was announced. Larry, who was the chairman, and two from
the House, constituted this important committee. One of these loved
fun, and never lost an opportunity to have it. The meeting of the
committee soon took place, and the chairman insisted that the first
named on the part of the House should draft the bill. This was the wag.
He saw Larry was frightened, and peremptorily refused, declaring it was
the chairman's duty. "I do not wish to have anything to do with this
matter any way. It was a very useless thing, and foolish too, to be
throwing a cat into a bee-gum; for this was nothing else. This bill
will start every devil of those little moustached foreigners into fury:
they are all interested in these faro-banks. It is their only way of
making a living, and they are as vindictive as the devil. Any of them
can throw a Spanish knife through a window, across the street, and into
a man's heart, seated at his table, or fireside; and to-day I heard one
of them say, in French, which he supposed I did not understand, that
this bill was nothing but revenge for money lost; and if revenge was so
sweet, why, he could taste it too. Now, I have lost no money
there--have never been in any of their dens, and he could not mean me."
"Gentlemen, we will adjourn this meeting until to-morrow," said Larry,
"when I will try and have a bill for your inspection." The morrow came,
and the bill came with it, and was reported and referred to the
committee of the whole House. On the ensuing morning, Larry found upon
his desk, in the Senate chamber, the following epistle:
"MR. LARRY MOORE: You have no shame, or I would expose you in the
public prints. You know your only reason for offering a bill to
repeal the law licensing gaming in this city is to be revenged on
the house which won honorably from you a few hundred dollars, most
of which you had, at several sittings, won from the same house.
Now, you have been talked to; still you persist. There is a way to
reach you, and it shall be resorted to, if you do not desist from
the further prosecution of this bill."
The hand in which this epistle was written was cramped and evidently
disguised, to create the impression of earnestness and secrecy. It was
a long time before Larry could spell through it. When he had made it
out, he rose to a question of order and privilege, and sent the
missive to the secretary's desk, to be read to the Senate. During the
reading there was quite a disposition to laugh, on the part of many
senators, who saw in it nothing but a joke.
"What in the h--- do you see in that thar document to laugh at, Mr.
Senators? D--- it, don't you see it is a threat, sirs!--a threat to
'sassinate me? I want to know, by the eternal gods, if a senator in
this house--this here body--is to be threatened in this here way? You
see, Mr. President, that these here gamblers (d--- 'em!) want to rule
the State. Was that what General Jackson fit the battle of New Orleans
for, down yonder in old Chemut's field? I was thar, sir; I risked my
life in that great battle, and I want to tell these d----d scoundrels
that they can't scare me--no, by the Eternal!"
"I must call the senator to order. It is not parliamentary to swear in
debate," said the President of the Senate.
"I beg pardon of the chair; but I didn't know this Senate was a
parliament before; but I beg pardon. I didn't know I swore before;
but, Mr. President, I'll be d----d if this ain't a figure beyant me:
for a parcel of scoundrels--d----d blacklegs, sir!--to threaten a
senator in this Legislature with 'sassination, for doin' the will of
his constituents."
"The chair would remind the senator that there is no question or
motion before the Senate."
"Thar ain't? Well, that's another wrinkle. Ain't that thar hell-fired
letter to me, sir--a senator, sir, representing three parishes,
sir--before this House? (or maybe you'll want me to call it a
parliament, sir?) It is, sir; and I move its adoption."
This excited a general laugh, and, at the same time, the ire of Moore.
"By G--, sir; I don't know if it wouldn't benefit the State if these
hell-fired gamblers were to 'sassinate the whole of this House or
parliament."
The laugh continued, and Moore left the Senate in a rage.
The next morning found a second epistle, apparently from a different
source, on Moore's table. It was written in a fine, bold hand, and
said:
"LARRY: You splurged largely over a letter found on your desk
yesterday. I see you have carried it to the newspapers. I want you
to understand distinctly and without equivocation, if the bill you
reported to the Senate becomes a law, _you die. Verbum sapientis_."
Larry had not returned to his seat during the day; but the next
morning he came in, flanked by several senators, who had come with him
from his quarters. There lay the threatening document, sealed, and
directed to the "Honorable Larry Moore." In a moment the seal was
broken. This he could read without much trouble. After casting his
eyes over it, he read it aloud.
"Now, sir, Mr. President, here is another of these d----d letters, and
this time I am told if this bill passes, I am to die. Maybe you'll say
this ain't before the Senate."
"The chair would remind the senator that the simple reading of a
private letter to the Senate raises no question. There must be a
motion in relation to what disposition shall be made of the paper."
"I know that, sir. Mr. President, I'm not a greeny in legislator
matters. I have been here before, sir; and didn't I move its adoption
yesterday, sir? and wasn't I laughed out of the house, sir? and I
expect if I was to make the same motion, I should be laughed out of
the house again, sir. Some men are such d----d fools that they will
laugh at anything."
"The chair must admonish the senator that oaths are not in order."
"Well, by G--, sir, is my motion in order to-day? I want to know; I
want you to tell me that."
"Order, Mr. Senator!"
"Yes, sir, 'order!' Mr. President, that's the word. Order, sir; is my
motion in order, sir?"
"The chair calls the senator to order."
"Ah! that is it, is it? Well, sir, what order shall I take? I ask a
question, and the chair calls me to order. Well, sir, I'm in only
tolerable order, but I want my question answered--I want to know if
I'm to be threatened with 'sassination by the hell-fired gamblers, and
then laughed at by senators for bringing it before the Senate, and
insulted by you, sir, by calling me to order for demanding my rights,
and the rights of my constituents, here, from this Senate? This, sir,
is a d----d pretty situation of affairs. If General Jackson was in
your place, I'd have my rights, and these d----d gamblers would get
theirs, sir: he would hang them under the second section, and no
mistake."
The laugh was renewed, and the President asked Larry if he had any
motion to make.
"Yes, sir," said Larry, now thoroughly aroused. "I move this Senate
adjourn and go home, and thar stay until they larn to behave like
gentlemen, by G--!" and away he went in angry fury.
For four consecutive days, this scene was enacted in the Senate. Each
succeeding day saw Moore more and more excited, and the Senate began
to entertain the opinion that there was an intention to intimidate the
Legislature, and thus prevent the passage of the bill. These daily
missives grew more and more threatening, and terror began to usurp the
place of rage with Moore. He would not leave the Senate chamber or his
quarters without being accompanied by friends. In the mean time the
bill came up, and Moore had made a characteristic speech, and the
morning following there were half a dozen letters placed upon his
table from the post-office. Their threats and warnings increased his
alarm. Some of these purported to come from friends, detailing
conversations of diabolical character which had been overheard--others
told him only an opportunity was wanting to execute the threats
previously made.
The city became excited--a public meeting was called, strong
indignation resolutions were passed, and highly approbatory ones of
the course and conduct of the intrepid senator, pledging him
countenance and support. A subscription was taken up, and a splendid
silver tea-set was presented him, and in this blaze of excitement the
bill became a law--and the city one extended gambling-shop. The silver
set was publicly exhibited, with the name of the senator engraved upon
it, and the cause for presenting it, and by whom presented.
Moore was contemplating this beautiful gift with a group of friends:
among them were the three individuals who had been the authors of all
this mischief, when one of them asked Moore, "Where will you put this
rich gift? It will show badly in your pine-pole cabin."
"I intend having the cabin, every log of it, painted red as
lightning," said Moore. "The silver shan't be disgraced."
Originally it had been intended by those getting up the joke, when it
had sufficiently frightened Moore, to laugh at him; but it took too
serious a turn, and Moore died a hero, not knowing that every letter
was written by the same hand, and that the whole matter was a
practical joke. All, save only one, who participated in it, are in the
grave, and only a few remain who will remember it.
Larry Moore was a Kentuckian by birth, and had many Kentucky
characteristics. He was boisterous but kind-hearted, boastful and good
at a fist-fight, decently honest in most matters, but would cheat in a
horse-trade. Early education is sometimes greatly at fault in its
inculcations, and this was, in Moore's case, peculiarly so. Had he not
been born in Kentucky, these jockey tricks perhaps would not have been
a part of his accomplishments. For there, it is said, no boy is
permitted to leave home on a horse enterprise until he has cheated his
father in a horse-trade. Moore left the State so young that it was by
some doubted whether this trait was innate or acquired; but it always
distinguished him, as a Kentuckian by birth at least.
He was remarkable for the tenacity of his friendships. He would not
desert any one. It was immaterial what was the character of the man,
if he served Moore, Moore was his friend, and he would cling quite as
close to one in the penitentiary as in the halls of Congress. It made
no difference whether he wore cloth or cottonade, lived in a palace or
pine-pole cabin, whether honest or a thief, the touchstone to his
heart was, "He is my friend, and I am at his service." Not only in
this, but in everything else, he strove to imitate his great friend
and prototype, General Jackson. He lived to be an old man, and among
his constituents he was great, and made his mark in his day in the
State. There was some fun in Larry, but he was the cause of much more
in others. Larry, rest in peace, and light be the sand that lies on
your coffin!