WHY I GAVE OVER CARD-PLAYING.
Like most men who are not saints, I had the natural instinct for
gambling, without any passion for it; but soon found the necessity for
suppressing my inclination for cards, lest it should interfere with my
legitimate profession. It was necessary to abandon the indulgence, or
abandon myself to its temptations.
I owe my determination never to play again at cards to the bad luck
which befell me on a particular occasion at Ascot on the Cup Day of
the year 18--. I was at that time struggling to make my way in my
profession, and carefully storing up my little savings for the
proverbial rainy day.
Having been previously to the Epsom summer races, and had such
extraordinary good luck, nothing but a severe reverse would have
induced me to take the step I did. Good luck is fascinating, and
invariably leads us on, with bad luck sometimes close behind.
I went to Epsom with my dear old friend Charley Wright, and we soon
set to work in one of the booths to make something towards our
fortunes at _rouge et noir_. The booth was kept by a man who
seemed--to me, at all events--to be the soul of honour. I had no
reason to speak otherwise than well of him, for I staked a half-crown
on the black, and won two half-crowns every time, or nearly every
time.
I thought it a most excellent game, and with less of the element of
chance or skill in it than any game I ever played. My pockets were
getting stuffed with half-crowns, so that they bulged, and caused me
to wonder if I should be allowed to leave the racecourse alive, for
there were many thieves who visited the Downs in those days.
But my friend Charley was with me, and I knew he would be a pretty
trustworthy fellow in a row. This, however, was but a momentary
thought, for I was too much engrossed in the game and in my good luck
to dwell on possibilities. Nor did I interest myself in Charley's
proceedings, but took it for granted that a game so propitious to me
was no less so to him. He was playing with several others; who or
what they were was of no moment to me. I pursued my game quietly, and
picked up my half-crowns with great gladness and with no concern for
those who had lost them.
Presently, however, my attention was momentarily diverted by hearing
Charley let off a most uncontrollable "D--n!"
"What's the matter, Charley?" I asked, without lifting my head.
"Matter!" says Charley; "rooked--that's all!"
"Rooked! That's very extraordinary. I'm winning like anything. Look
here!" and I pointed to my pockets, which were almost bursting.
"Yes," said he, "I see how it is: you've been winning on twos to one,
and I've been losing on threes."
"Black's the winning colour to-day, Charley--_noir_; you should have
backed _noir_. Besides, long odds are much too risky. I am quite
content with two to one."
Here there was a general break-up of the party, because Charley being
out of it as well as several others, it left only one, and, of course,
the keeper of the booth was not so foolish, however honourable, to pay
me two half-crowns and win only one. So there it ended.
That night I made this game a study, and the sensible conclusion came
to me that if you would take advantage of the table you should play
for the lower stakes, because you have a better chance of winning than
those who play high. At least, that was the result of my policy; for
while those who played high were ruined, my pockets were filled, and,
by that cautious mode of playing, I was so lucky that, had there been
enough at threes to one, I could have kept on making money as long as
they had any to lose.
I changed my half-crowns with the booth-keeper for gold, and reached
my chambers safely with the spoil. And how pleasant it was to count
it!
It has occurred to me since that the keeper of the booth had carefully
noted my proceedings (such was my innocence), and that he made his
calculations for a future occasion. One thing he was quite sure
of--namely, that he would see me again on the first opportunity there
was of winning more half-crowns.
It is possible that a succession of runs of luck might have put an end
to my professional career; it is certain that the opposite result put
an end to my card-playing aspirations.
In about a fortnight, all eager for a renewal of my Epsom experience,
I went down to the Ascot meeting, taking with me not only all my
previous winnings, but my store of savings for the rainy day, and was
determined to pursue the same moderate system of cautious play.
There was the same booth, the same little flag fluttering on the top,
and the same obliging proprietor. He recognized me at once, and looked
as if he was quite sure I would be there--as if, in fact, he had been
waiting for me. After a pleasant greeting and a few friendly words, I
thought it a little odd that a man should be so glad to meet one who
had come to fill his pockets at the booth-keeper's expense--at least,
I thought this afterwards, not at the time. He looked genuinely
pleased, and down I sat once more, quite sure that two to one would
beat three.
The proprietor kept his eye on my play in a very thoughtful manner,
nor was it surprising that he knew his game as well as I; in fact, it
turned out that he knew it better. To this day I am unable to explain
how he manoeuvred it, how he adjusted his tactics to counteract mine;
but that something happened more than mere luck would account for was
certain, for, as often as the half-crown went on black, red was the
lucky colour. But I persevered on black because it had been my friend
at Epsom, and down went the half-crowns, to be swept up by the keeper
of the booth. I cannot even now explain how it was done.
Intending to make a good day's work and gather a rich harvest, I
took with me every shilling I had in the world--not only my previous
winnings, but my hard-earned savings at the Bar. I began to lose, but
went on playing, in the vain hope--the worst hope of the gambler--of
retrieving what I had lost and recovering my former luck. But it was
not to be; the table was against me. I forsook my loyalty to black and
laid on red. Alas! red was no better friend. I lost again, and knew
now that all my Epsom winnings had found their way once more into the
keeper's pocket. A fortnight's loan was all I had of them. It was a
pity they had not been given to some charity. But I kept on bravely
enough, and did not despair or leave off while I had a half-crown
left. That half-crown, however, was soon raked up with the rest into
the keeper's bag.
I was bankrupt, with nothing in my pocket but twopence and a return
ticket from Paddington.
Hopeless and helpless, I had learnt a lesson--a lesson you can only
learn in the school of experience.
I little thought then that the only certain winner at the gaming-table
is _the table itself_, and made up my mind as I walked alone and
disappointed through Windsor Park, on my way to the station, that I
would never touch a card again--and I never did.
For the first time since setting out in the morning I felt hungry, and
bought a pennyworth of apples at a little stall kept by an old woman,
and a bottle of ginger-beer. Such was my frugal meal; and thus
sustained I tramped on, my return ticket being my only possession in
the world. I reached Paddington with a sorry heart, and walked to the
Temple, my good resolution my only comfort; but it was all-sufficient
for the occasion and for all time to come.