I always carried the very best pistol that could be bought for money, and had one that I called "Betsy Jane," for which I paid $100. I never wanted to turn her loose, for I did not want ever to kill a man. I only used her as a bluffer, and she has often responded to my wants successfully.

I was on board the steamer Kate Kinney coming down the Missouri River at one time, and had won a great deal of money. One big fellow lost $700, and I could see he was very mad about it. He would go to the bar and take a big drink, and then come back to the table. Finally he got himself nerved up pretty well, so he said to the bystanders:

"I have a d——d notion to kick that table over and break up his game."

I replied, "It will do you no good to kick the table over, as I have caught all the suckers, and am now going to quit and take a drink."

I started to the bar, and invited all hands to join me. The big fellow followed, but would not take a drink. I could see he was sizing me up, and I knew he wanted some of my mutton, so I said to him:

"We have all had a drink but you; won't you join me?"

He replied, "I can buy my own drinks, and you can go to h—l."

I did not reply to him, but walked out into the cabin. He followed me out, for he knew he had me afraid of him by my not resenting the insult. He got up pretty close and said:

"If you did get my money, I can lick you."

I told him he had better find an easier fight, when he let fly at me. I was on my guard, caught his lick on my arm, and then I lit into him, and we had it rough-and-tumble all around the hall. We came near upsetting the stove; but I had him whipped in about two minutes, and he squealed like a pig under a gate.

At another time I was coming down the Missouri River from St. Joseph to St. Louis, and had beaten a fellow out of $40. He was a rolling- mill man from St. Louis, and I found out he could hit a pretty hard lick. I was playing a game of euchre in the hall after closing up monte, when this fellow slipped up and hit me a lick on the side of the neck that came near flooring me. I rallied and was on my guard in an instant. He came at me again, and we had it up and down and around the cabin for some little time before I could get a crack at him with my head. When the old head did get a chance, it was not long until he cried quit. The Captain and every one who saw the fellow hit me from behind said they were glad to see him get licked, and so was I.

At another time I was in a game of poker on the steamer Telegraph coming up from Madison, Ind., and there was a big blacksmith in the game who was very quarrelsome. He wanted to fight every time he would lose a dollar, so I ran him up a hand and then broke him. He left the game and went into the bar. My old friend Jake Bloom had the bar at the time. The big fellow told Jake he was going to whip that fellow they called Colonel when the game was over. Jake told him he could get a much easier fight, if he wanted to lick some one. He replied:

"Why, I can lick that fellow in a minute."

I was sitting where I could hear what he said; so, as there was very little more money in the party I was playing, I left the game and went into the bar-room, and said to the blacksmith.

"Come, old top, and join me in a drink, for I beat you on that last hand."

He replied, "I don't drink with such fellows as you."

He had hardly got the words out of his mouth before he was lying on the floor, for I gave him a lick under the chin that straightened him out. As he was getting up, I let the old head go, and down he went again. He said, "That will do;" so I let up on him. He went to his room, and did not leave it until the next morning, when he had to be led off the boat, as he could not see. He swore out a warrant for my arrest; but when the policeman came to get me, the clerk told him I had left the boat. That was the last I ever heard by my big blacksmith.

THE ENGLISHMAN AND HIS GUN.

Every nationality has its suckers, and it would be pretty hard for me to decide which has the most, for I have, in my time, downed them all. I was on board the steamer Great Republic at one time when there was a number of English lads among the passengers. They had come over to this country to hunt the buffalo, and had brought their guns with them. I got acquainted with them, as they were often in the bar-room after the bloody, blarsted wine, and they liked to talk about Old h'England and their fine guns, you know. I got one of them to show me his gun, and I think it was the finest piece I ever saw. Each gun had two sets of barrels, and had the owner's name engraved on it, inlaid with gold, and not one of them cost less than $500. I tried to buy one, but it could not be done. One night after my partner had gone to bed I was in the bar-room, when one of the English lads came in. He had been in bed, but got up to get a blarsted drink, and he invited me to join him, which I did, and then I insisted on him joining me in a small bottle. We drank three bottles, then I excused myself, and sent for my partner to get up and come to the bar-room. I then began telling the English lad about a new game, and finally I got out the tickets and was showing them, when my partner came in about half asleep. He, like the English lad, had been in bed and had got up to get a drink. He invited us to join him, as he did not like to drink alone. We accepted, and as the lad was feeling pretty good by this time, he could not let a gentleman treat without returning the compliment, you know. My partner and the lad got to guessing for fun, and then proposed to wager the wine. I lost a bottle, and so did my partner. While we were drinking my partner put a crimp in the baby ticket, but took good care that the English lad saw him do it. Then he wanted me to bet money on the game, and I said:

"I have two chances to your one, and could win all your money if we would bet."

The Englishman laughed, and said:

"Why, lad, you 'avent a bloody bit of a chance; you would lose every blarsted cent you 'ave if you bet."

My partner kept bantering me, when I pulled out a roll of greenbacks that made them open their eyes, saying:

"I would not be one bit afraid to wager all that."

The Englishman gave me a nudge and said:

"Lad, don't you do it."

My partner then said:

"I haven't got one-half so much money, but I will bet you $500 I can pick up the baby ticket."

We put our money in the Englishman's hand, and I turned to him and offered to bet him a bottle of wine that I would win the money. He took me up. My partner turned the card, and I lost the money and the wine.

He wanted to bet me $1,000, but I told him he was a little too lucky for me. I saw Johnnie Bull was crazy to bet, so I said to him:

"Do you think you could guess the baby ticket?"

"Indeed I do," he replied.

"I will wager you that you can't."

He got out his leather bag and counted out twenty sovereigns. I saw he had plenty more, so I would not bet him less than one hundred sovereigns. He put them up, and I put up $500 in greenbacks. He turned the card and lost. My partner made him believe that he had made a mistake, by showing him that the corner of the baby ticket was still turned up.

He wanted to bet with me, so I took him for $500, and he won. That made Johnnie Bull hot, as he did not have any more ready money except maybe $50. I saw he was ready for anything, so I told him I would bet him $1,000 against his gun if it was on the table. He jumped up, went to his room, and soon returned with his case. He unlocked it and showed me his gun. I put $1,000 in the barkeeper's hands, as I wanted to get the gun where he could not snatch it and run, as I expected he would do, if I gave him a chance. I mixed the cards, and he went for the baby, but he must have been excited, for he missed it. It was fun to see him. He looked at the cards, at me and my partner, then at his gun case, but it was behind the bar, and he could not get it. As soon as he could speak he said:

"Oh! my gun; I've lost my gun."

He walked up and down the guards, coming in every moment to look at his gun. I finally told him if he would raise the money I would let him have his gun for $500. Then he was happy, but he would not go to bed or leave the bar for fear I would get off with his fine English gun. The next morning he told his companions, and they raised the $500 in less than no time. I heard them talking. One would say to another:

"The lad has lost his gun, lads, and we must get the bloody thing for 'im."

I could have got $1,000 for it just as quick as the $500. I tried to show the other Johnnie Bulls how the lad lost his gun, but they would not come within a mile of the table. I bid them all good- bye and left the boat at Vicksburg, but I was always sorry I did not keep that gun.

TRAVELING KENO.

Away back in the fifties, when there was but few railroads in the Northwest, I went by stage from LaCrosse to Portage City, Wis. It was during the winter season, and a bitter cold day. I came very near to freezing on the road, but I expected to make money, and I guess that was what saved me. I had a keno outfit with me, and it was my intention to play the surrounding towns after the manner of a traveling show. The first thing to be done after my arrival was to get thawed out, then to see the Mayor and get his permission (or license) to advertise and run my game. I called upon his Honor and stated my business. He did not know much about keno, so I explained the little innocent game to him. The result was, I got authority to open my game. I secured a room that had been used as a school-room, and advertised that I would open the next night, and in a short time after the door was opened the room was full of pupils. Some of them had never been to such a school, so I had to teach them the first principles; but it did not take me very long, as all those that had taken lessons rendered me all the assistance in their power, and I was very thankful for it, as I was anxious to get to work. After distributing the books, I began to call the numbers, and I must say I never saw a more quiet and attentive set of pupils in a school-room. We were getting along so nicely that I began to think it a pleasure to teach such nice boys, when a great big, rough-looking fellow came in, stalked all around the school-room, and made so much noise that I had to call some of the numbers over again. Some of the boys told him to sit down, take a book and study his lesson, but he would not do it. I saw he was a bad boy, and would not let the other boys alone; so I spoke to him very kindly, telling him to sit down, and see if he could not learn something; but he was one of the worst boys I ever saw, for he told me to go to h—l, and he would do just as he pleased. I remembered when I went to school how my teacher used to serve me when I was a bad boy and would annoy the other boys. So I told the scholars we would take a recess for about twenty minutes. They all threw down their books, and most of them went out to play. During recess I walked up to the bad boy and said:

"You are a very bad boy to come in here and annoy my pupils, and you deserve a whipping."

He replied: "You are not man enough to whip me."

That was all I wanted him to say; so I let fly and gave him a good one on the jaw, and then I kept it up, until he cried worse than I ever did when I went to school. He got out of that school room faster than he came in, and then I called order and went on with my duties just as if nothing had happened out of the regular order.

I remained in Portage City for some time. My pupils liked me and paid their tuition promptly. Some of them paid much more than they could well afford, but they did it voluntarily. I went from Portage to Madison, where I had a good game, but I had to whip a fellow the second day, and in fact I had one or more fights in every town I went to; for there is nearly always some big bully in a town or city that has whipped some one, and he thinks that every one is afraid of him, and he can do just as he pleases; but they found out that they could not run me on my keno business.

A BULL FIGHT.

The steamer John Walsh was on an upward trip, two days out from New Orleans. A crowd of gentlemen were gathered about the bar, punishing wine at $5 a bottle. With flushed faces, jocund laughter, and the incessant pop of the champagne corks, the time flew unheeded past. The barkeeper smiled when at the little window of the bar the ebony head of a stalwart negro appeared.

"Say, boss, gimme some whisky."

Everybody turned, and laughter that was about to burst forth, or the jest that was ready, was hushed; for the negro's head was split open and the blood pouring down his cheeks in rivulets, crimsoning his swarthy, shiny skin and clothing.

"Been fighting?" said the barkeeper.

"Yes; de fireman he butted me."

Up came the mate, who observed:

"We've got a fireman down below who has killed two or three niggers by butting them to death with his head."

"Send him up," I said, "and I'll butt him till he is sick of butting."

We had all been drinking wine, and everybody laughed, supposing that it was the liquor talking, and not me.

"Why, Devol, I wouldn't give five cents for your head if that nigger gets a lick at it," spoke up a young planter who was in the party.

Then I got mad, and exclaimed:

"I'll bet $500 I can make the nigger squeal."

The mate roared out with laughter; but I put up my money, and so did the young planter, thinking that I would back out. He only had $175 in his roll, and he offered to bet that.

"All right; I don't back out. I'll butt the nigger for $175."

The money was soon up in the barkeeper's hands; and then the mate knew that I meant business, and he put up $25 to make bet the even $200.

At this juncture the mate called a halt. "Wait till I see if the nigger will butt with a white man;" and rushing down stairs, the "image of God cut in ebony" was interviewed.

"I doant like for to butt a white man," he said, "for I'm afraid I'll kill him, and den dey hang de ole nigger."

But the mate said, "I've just put up $25 on you, and I want to win it."

"All right; if yer means it, boss, I'll go yer."

At the bar I procured a long string and a ribbon from a cigar bunch, and started down stairs. Instantly the wildest excitement reigned on the boat. Two of the deck-hands stood guard at the foot of the stairs to keep the crowd back, and the hurricane roof and boiler deck were thronged with an eager and excited crowd. Fastening one end of the string to the jack-staff and the other to the steps at about the proper height, the ribbon was tied in the centre of the string, and the black man and myself stood back five feet on either side, and at a given signal were to come forward and strike at the ribbon. Then the passengers said it was a shame to let that nasty nigger butt that nice white man to death; but as there were no S. P. C. A. officers aboard, the game went on.

The deck-hands all rolled up their eyes and looked at me as they would at a corpse. Just before the word ready was given, I asked the nigger if he had any money to put up on the result, and running his hand down in his watch-pocket he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. I covered it, and the planter told the nigger he would give him $10 more if he downed me. I cocked my eye on the nigger's head, and saw that it was one of those wedge-shaped cocoanuts so peculiar to people of African descent; so I inwardly resolved to hit him on one side of his wedge-shaped cranium. The nigger had his face to the sun, so that I felt confident that I could hit him pretty near where I wanted to.

The word was given, and at the ribbon we both rushed like a couple of frenzied bulls. I gave him a glancing blow that skinned his head for about three inches. The next time there was a crash, a jar that shook the boat and drew a shriek of terror from the passengers, for the nigger fell with a dull thud on the deck. He lay as stiff and cold as a dead man.

"Dat nigger is done gone dead! Dat nigger is no good any more!" shouted the alarmed roustabouts.

The mate lifted him up, and he began bleeding from the nose, eyes, and ears. The mate kindly asked him if he wanted to butt any more. He did not reply, only shook his head sadly and murmured inaudibly, "No." They applied whisky and water to his head, and at last removed him into the deck to cool off.

Many years have rolled by, and I have never heard the last of that butting adventure. The papers wrote it up, and in less than ten days every planter on the coast had heard of it. The planter who lost the $175 tells the story to this day; and Bill Patterson, the mate (he is dead now), used to tell it to every new crew that he shipped.

Towards night the old nigger came crawling up stairs and said:

"Massa, you have done for this poor nigger, for I must go to the hospital and get cured up."

I returned him his $10, and for the rest of the trip the passengers paid for everything I wanted to drink.

IT SHOOK THE CHECKS.

It never pays a man to be too officious and volunteer information or advice when it is not asked, for he very often makes enemies and courts a disturbance that he could easily have avoided if he had simply minded his own business.

Some seven years ago I attended a fair at Cynthiana, Ky., and opened out a gentleman's game in the Smith Hotel bar-room. There were a number of sports from Louisville and Cincinnati present, and everything was moving along lively, and as decorous as a funeral, when some of the Paris and Louisville boys indulged in a scrimmage and were arrested. Everybody left the hotel and went to see the result of the trial. I sat near the judge, and when the evidence was all in I whispered to him to fine them $10 each. This he did, and as we were leaving the court-room, I noticed that a big fellow from Paris, Ky., regarded me with very sour looks.

After supper I opened up my game, and in he came, and going to the bar-keeper, whispered in a tone of voice loud enough for me to hear: "I am going to whip that dealer."

Pretty soon I closed up the game, and then Sam Aliways and myself took a turn around the town, and running into a saloon, met the big bully. He had his coat off and a six-shooter a foot long hanging to his side; so, edging up to where he stood, I tapped him on the shoulder, observing:

"You are the gentleman that is looking for a fight."

As soon as he saw who it was, he grabbed for his shooting-iron; but just as he got hold of the handle, I dealt him a blow in the neck and he fell over against the counter, but I soon grabbed him and hit him a butt with my head. That ended the fight. He had sense enough to say, "That will do;" and seeing a policeman coming in one door, I went out another, hastened to the hotel and paid my bill, and caught the train for Covington. I was none too quick, however; for the next day when Aliways came along with my tools, he said that the fellow had a host of friends in the town, and that at least fifty fellows came around armed with case-knives, axes, double-barreled shotguns, revolvers, and rocks; and that if they had caught me, I would have met a fate worse than the martyr Stephen or the Chicago anarchists.

The fellow went by the name of Bill Legrets. When he was asked why he didn't shoot me, he said:

"Shoot h—l. The first lick he hit me, I thought my neck was disjointed; and when he ran that head into me, I though it was a cannon-ball."

Bob Linn was dealing up stairs at the time, and he afterwards said that when the bloody duffer fell to the floor, that all the checks on the table trembled like aspen leaves. Poor fellow! He is dead now, having been shot in Paris a few years since.

WITH A POKER.

Once when traveling in the West, and winning some money from a man from Kansas City, some smart Aleck told him that I had cheated him, so he made up his mind to kill me on sight. I made some inquiries, and ascertained that he was a desperate man and had already killed his two men. Accordingly I put my gun in my pocket and staid about the town, just keeping my eyes on the lookout, and at last went up to Omaha.

I was sitting one evening playing the bank, having forgotten all about the Kansas City man, when a friend of mine came to me and said that the man was in the adjoining room, and would soon be in to play faro. I lost no time in making my preparations to meet the gentleman. My friend had no pistol, nor had I; but seeing a poker lying on the floor near the stove, I rushed for it; and as I knew I could not go out without going through the room where he was, I simply put the poker under my coat and got up close to the door that led into the faro room and awaited his arrival. It was not long; and as soon as I saw him and was sure, I let drive and caught him square in the mouth, knocking him stiff. Then I rushed forward, and, grabbing him, secured his pistol, as I thought he would in all probability turn it loose on me. Then I attended to his head for a few minutes, endeavoring to kick the fight out of him.

I learned afterwards that he had a very bad reputation, having killed three men and been warned off the plains by a vigilant committee. He was confined to his bed for a couple of weeks, and I was congratulated on all sides for having walloped the fellow.

LEFT IN TIME.

Thirty-five or forty years ago the Cincinnati boats used to carry a great many passengers, and the New Orleans boats were always well filled. I once got aboard the Yorktown at Vicksburg. There was a full passenger list, and when I opened up there was at once a crowd around my frugal board. They seemed to enjoy the fair, and I won a good pile of money. At last we reached Bayou Plaquemine, at which point there was a strong current sweeping down the bayou, so that flat-boats were frequently driven in there and stranded. The Yorktown undertook to land at the mouth of the bayou, but the current which flowed like a mill-dam was too strong, and she started down the bayou. They headed her at once for the bank, and her stern swung around, and, lodging against the opposite bank, formed a perfect bridge across the mouth of the bayou. The boat was loaded to the guards, and the water ran through her deck rooms so rapidly that I thought every minute she would sink or fill with water, but they put weight on the hatches, then dug around the stern, so as to let her swing around. Just then two boats came along, one upward bound and the other down. One of them pushed and the other pulled the boat off, and then I began to look around, only to see that all the passengers had gone ashore. After wandering about the town the suckers decided it was time to kick and have me arrested, but I divined what was in the wind, and, like Lord Byron's Arab, silently folded my tent and crept away. I reached New Orleans first.

ON THE CIRCUIT.

During the summer of the Centennial year I followed the races; gambling on horses, running faro bank, red and black, old monte, and anything else that came up. I had a partner at the beginning by the name of John Bull, of Chicago, and he was a good, clever boy. He dealt faro, and I the red and black. We separated at Jackson, Mich., he going to Chicago and I to Cleveland, where I witnessed the great race between "Goldsmith Maid" and the horse "Smuggler," on which I lost some money; but I had a good game of red and black, so I was about even. I then concluded I would follow the trotters through the circuit. While sitting at the hotel one day in Cleveland I saw on the opposite side of the street a face and form that I thought I recognized. I ran over, and sure enough it was my old partner, Canada Bill, and with him another great capper by the name of Dutch Charlie. I was more than glad to see Bill, and he was very glad to see me. He wanted me to tell him where I had been, what I had been doing, and where I was going, and would up by saying:

"George, let's go and get something."

We soon found a bar-room, and began telling each other all that had happened since we were last together. I told Bill I had about made up my mind to follow the horses through the circuit. He told me that he and Charlie were going to do the same thing, and insisted that I should join, allowing as "how we three would make a good, strong team." I agreed. So it was settled we would all work together. While we were talking a slick-looking fellow, who I took to be a store clerk, walked in, and Bill invited him to take a drink, which he did, and I was introduced to Mason Long, who now styles himself "the converted gambler." Bill, Charlie, and I left Cleveland and went to Buffalo, but the night we left we had downed a sucker for $1,300, and thought best not to wait for morning.

We caught some good ones on the trip over, and they set up a great big kick. They telegraphed a description of Bill to Buffalo, so we got him to get off before we reached the city, telling him where to meet Charlie and myself the next day. We went on to the city and waited for Bill to show up, which he did the next night. He was too smart to come in by rail, so he got a man to drive him in.

We kept him in his hotel for a few days, until we thought the kickers that we had beat out of $2,100 had left the city. Then we made him dress up in store clothes, which he did not like a bit, saying:

"I don't feel good in the tarnal stuff things, nohow."

We thought best not to try our old games in Buffalo for fear the police would be looking for Bill, so we played the faro banks, bet on horses, and quit big losers at the end of the week. Dutch Charlie saved his money. He did not play the bank or horses, and it was well for us that he did not, for we always had a roll to use in making a bluff, which sometimes we would not have had if it had not been for him. We went from Buffalo to Rochester, and as we did not catch any kicking sucker on the way down, we had clear sailing during the week. We won a pile of money at monte, but Bill and I lost heavily at the races and faro banks. From Rochester we went to Utica, where I remained but a day or two, then concluded to run down to Philadelphia and see the Exposition. I bid the boys good-bye, promising to return before they left Utica. I did not take but little money with me, as I did not expect to do any bluffing while I was away. I took in the faro banks the first night, and the next day did not have a dollar. I started out on the street and soon met a man that I knew by the name of John Wilson. I saw by his actions he was like myself, "running light," for he did not ask me to take something, which I knew was his custom, for he was a clever fellow. We understood each other very soon, and parted. I had not gone very far until I heard some one call my name. I looked up, and saw two old friends of mine from New Orleans in a carriage that had just passed me. Then I knew I had struck oil. I lost no time in getting alongside of that rig and shaking hands with Samuel DeBow and Wm. Graham from my adopted home. They invited me to accompany them to the Exposition grounds, which I was very glad to do. They soon saw by my actions that something was out of tune, so they pressed me to know what it was. I told them, and I soon had all the money I wanted. After taking in the Exposition and a very large quantity of wine, I bid my friends good-bye, promising to meet them in Saratoga within a week. I went back to Utica and found that the boys, Bill and Charlie, had won $3,800, and they insisted that I was in with it. From Utica we went to Poughkeepsie, and in a few days I again left the boys to meet my New Orleans friends at Saratoga. I put up at the same hotel where they were stopping. The next day we took in the races, where I met another friend by the name of Rufus Hunt. He was well posted and gave us some good pointers. We bought pools and won $900. Then we all tried to see how much wine we could take in, and I do believe we got in $900 worth.

Canada Bill came over, and we spent a week with my friends. Then we promised to meet them in New York City, and left for Poughkeepsie, where we found Dutch Charlie, and we all took a Hudson river boat, called the Mary Powell, for New York. On our way down we got into a friendly game of euchre with an old gent, and we relieved him of $700. After dinner I went up on the roof and saw my old friend Captain Leathers, of the steamer Natchez, in the pilot- house. He was insisting that his boat could beat the Mary Powell, and when he saw me he said:

"I can prove it by that man coming up here now."

I was glad to see the old fellow so far from home, so I told the pilot that the Natchez was the fastest boat on the Mississippi; and Captain Leathers went down to see the boys and the barkeeper.

Bill, Charlie, and I remained in New York for some time, and we proved what old Bill said in Cleveland: "We three would make a good, strong team."

The time came when I was compelled to leave the boys and go to Chicago, and that was the last I saw of old Canada Bill and Dutch Charlie until the following winter, when they both came down to New Orleans, and them we again made the suckers think we three were a good team.

STRATEGEM.

We went on board of Captain William Eads' boat at St. Charles, Mo., late one night, and found that all the state-rooms were taken and we could get no bed. There was no one up about the cabin except the officers of the boat, and as we never tried to win their money, things looked a little blue for any business before morning, unless some of the passengers could be got up. Young Bill Eads, a son of the Captain, was one of the pilots on the boat. He was off watch and at the bar drunk when we got on board. His father had married a young wife that day, and was taking his wedding trip on that boat. Young Bill was mad because his father had secured a young step-mother for him, and was just raising "Ned" about it.

A short time after going on board, the boat made a landing, and while we were tied up, the other pilot came down to the bar to see Bill and also to get something. His name was John Consall—an old friend of mine. I invited him and Bill to join me, and while we were drinking I said:

"I wish we could get up a little excitement, so some of the suckers would come out of their holes."

Young Bill replied: "I'll get them out for you, and that d——d quick."

John Consall went back to the pilot-house, and soon had the boat on her way. Bill went out, and in about twenty minutes there was the darndest racket on that boat you ever heard. Everybody was sneezing at one and the same time, and you would have thought they were trying to blow the roof off, from the amount of noise they made. Bill came up to us out on the guards, and said:

"Didn't I tell you I would drive them out of their holes?"

I looked into the cabin, and, sure enough, everybody was out of their rooms, rushing up and down the cabin and finally out on the guards. Old Captain Bill and young Bill's new step-mother were among the crowd, and it was fun the see the young bride rushing around after her old hubby, trying to keep him from blowing up the boat with his sneezing and cursing. He would pull away from her every time he would make a big sneeze, and then he would curse until another one would overtake him. He and young Bill knew what was the cause of all the racket, and the old one soon learned who had put the red pepper on the hot stove. He tried to find his bad boy, but he was up on the roof, so his step-mother did not get to see her hubby throw him overboard, as he swore he would do if he caught him.

They opened all the doors, and soon the red pepper was all out of the cabins and state-rooms. The old Captain and all the passengers, except a few good suckers, went back to bed. Young Bill came out of his hiding-place, and we all took something to wash down the pepper. We went to work on the fellows who remained up, and won $1,200, besides several good watches—which we would not have had a chance to do if the passengers had not been sneezed out. I appreciated the part Bill and John had played, and presented each with a good watch.

At another time I got on a boat after all the passengers had gone to bed, and did not want to wait until morning without doing some business; so I inquired after the passengers, and learned that there was one on board who had been drinking and flashing his money. I sent the porter to his room and told him to knock and tell him to get up at once, that the boat was on fire, but for him not to make any noise. In an instant the fellow was into a part of his clothes and out into the cabin. He rushed up to where we were sitting and wanted to know where the fire was. We told him down stairs under the boiler. Then he told us that some one came to his room and told him the boat was on fire. We laughed, and told him he must have been dreaming—and he thought he must have been, if we had heard nothing about it. We all took something at his expense, and then my partner began to throw the tickets. We beat him out of $500, and as he started to the room, he said: "I wish the d——d boat had been on fire."

MOBILE.

General Canby captured Mobile, taking 1,000 prisoners, 150 cannon, and 3,000 bales of cotton on the 12th day of April, 1865, and this about closed the war of the rebellion. I was in New Orleans at the time running the race-course and my games. I knew there would be plenty of money at Mobile after the Union Army took possession, and I resolved to get over there just as soon as possible. So in a short time after the surrender I was in Mobile trying to get permission to open up my games. It was not long until I had a faro bank in full blast in the city, and a rouge-et-noir and wheel game at a resort on the shell road, about seven miles out from the city. I had a partner in the faro bank by the name of Pettypan. He was a Creole, and not the best fellow in the world by any means when in liquor. He looked after the city trade, while I ran the game out on the shell road, in which he had no interest.

The Union officers, and all the citizens that could afford it, would drive out to the road-house where I was holding forth, and I was making a barrel of money out of them. My old friend and former partner, Charlie Bush, was running faro in New Orleans, and when he heard how much money I was making at Mobile he came over to run opposition. I gave him a call and he downed me for a big roll. He made big money, and then wanted to go back to New Orleans without leaving any of it, but the Grand Jury indicted him and made him come down pretty heavy. They got an indictment against me at the same time, but somehow it got into a pigeon-hole, and I guess it is there yet, for I never heard anything of it after Bush left. My partner in the faro bank was a little jealous of me, for I was making more money out on the shell road than he was in the city. One day when we were settling up our bank account he got mad, as he was drunk, and pulled his gun and said he would shoot me. He knew I did not have any gun with me, so he took this advantage. I saw he had me, so I just opened my vest and told him to shoot. That made him ashamed of himself, and he put up his gun and apologized.

I was dealing red and black at the resort one night, when an officer came up and said:

"I'll bet $25 on the red."

I replied: "Which $25 do you mean?"

Then he said: "It don't make any difference which. I say I will bet you $25 on the red."

"No bet goes on this layout unless the money is up," I said.

He then straightened himself to over six feet, and said:

"You are a d——d rascal."

"That is the conclusion I have come to about you," I remarked.

Then he made a rush for me, and at it we went. We had a lively time for a few moments, but I soon got a chance to give him my old head, and he hollowed enough. He went away and washed himself, and I did not see any more of him. His fellow officers heard how he had acted, and as he was a very quarrelsome man, they told me I served him just right, and they were all glad of it, and I had a better game after that than before.

I remained at Mobile for some time, then sold out and went back to good old New Orleans, for it was hard in those days to stay away any great length of time, and even now I feel more at home there than any other place in this country.

Sometime after my return to New Orleans I was taken down with the yellow fever (of which I have spoken in a preceding story). I remained for a few months, when I took a notion to go North. So I sold out, and again I was on board one of the packets going up the old Mississippi. I played all the old games up to St. Louis, and then I took a Missouri River packet and went to Omaha, still keeping up my games. I then started out on the Union Pacific Railroad, and went as far as Julesburg, which was at that time the terminus. I remained there, playing the contractors and every one else I could get a hold of, until the road was finished to Cheyenne City.

I won a great deal of money, but as the good old game of faro followed in the track of civilization and the railroad, I lost nearly as fast as I won. I remained in the West for five months, when the old desire to get back home on the Mississippi took possession of me, and I could not resist the temptation, so I turned my face to the east, and in a short time I was in St. Joseph, Mo., where I met my old friend Ben Allman, who was running a fine large billiard hall. I concluded to stop and open a keno room, so I went to Chicago, bought a very fine outfit, and opened up over Allman's place. I advertised my business in all the papers, just as a dry goods merchant would advertise his business. My keno netted me from $150 to $200 per day, and I set a lunch each night at a cost of $25. Most men would have been content, but I was not, as I still longed for the life I had led for so many years on the river. So I sold out, and was soon in St. Louis ready for a down river packet. On my way down I won considerable money, and that, together with the fact that I was on my way back to the place I loved so well, made me happy.

One night I went on board a boat that was so crowded with passengers that I could not get a room; so I opened up monte, and as I was winning money, I did not realize that I was sleepy until they began to make up cots in the cabin, and most all the passengers had gone to bed. Then I would have given almost any price for a place to sleep, but all the cots were engaged, and I was left. Nothing remained for me but to patronize the bar, which I was doing, when a man came in to get a drink that had been asleep on one of the cots. I told him as he had been resting if he would let me have his cot for the balance of the night I would give him $5. He accepted my proposition, and I went to bed. I had been lying down but a few moments, when there was a fuss started near me. I raised up to see what was the cause, when I saw two Jews that had come aboard at Baton Rouge, and they were fighting for the possession of a cot. I got up and told them to stop their fighting and join me in a drink. They accepted the invitation. While we were drinking I learned that they had been playing cards at Baton Rouge before they had got on the boat, and had had a falling out over the game. I told them I saw a fellow playing a game that beat anything I ever had seen. They wanted to know what it was, so I showed them the three cards, and in a short time I had won $200 from them. I forgot all about being sleepy while I was working up the Jew boys, and by the time I had won their money the steward was clearing the cabin to set the tables for breakfast. I had lost the sleep for which I had paid $5, but I did not mind it much, as I had won $200.

A DUCK HUNT.

During the winter season, wild ducks are so plentiful around New Orleans that a good wing shot can bag a hundred of them in a few hours. I have often seen men coming in on the boats and trains with hundreds of nice wild ducks, and at such times I would promise myself to lay off and have a hunt; so one morning I took my gun and about a hundred rounds of ammunition and went out on the L. & N. Railroad to Lake Pontchartrain. I killed at least twenty-five ducks, but only got six of them, as they fell in the water and I had no dog to fetch them. I went back to the station with my six ducks, and there I saw five Frenchmen and some dogs, and they had about 200 ducks. I felt ashamed of myself, so I tried to buy some of their ducks, but they would not sell. Then I thought I would interest them in old monte until the train arrived; so I opened up on an old fish box and soon had them guessing for the baby ticket. One fellow wanted to bet a dollar, so I put up and he won. Another put up, and he won. Then I pulled out a roll and offered to bet them $50 against their entire lot of ducks that they could not turn the baby ticket. They all talked French to each other for a while, and then told me they would take me up. I told them to put their ducks all up beside the box and I would put up the $50. They did so, and all pointed to the same card, so I told them to turn it over. One of them did so, but it was not the card they wanted or thought it was, so they lost their ducks.

The train arrived; I got my ducks into the baggage-car and went to the city. I had the game hauled up to a restaurant, and sent for a lot of my friends, and I gave them all the ducks they wanted. I sold some, and had some cooked for myself and my friends.

All the boys heard of my good luck. Some of them wanted to borrow my gun, while others wanted to go out with me the next time I went hunting; and there were some of the boys who knew me very well, who said: "Devol did not shoot a single one of those ducks—he either bought or won them." I insisted that I shot every one; and as the Frenchmen did not know me, none of my friends ever knew that I won them on the baby ticket.

QUICK WORK.

I went fishing one day out on Lake Pontchartrain, and caught a large string of fine fish. When I got back to the hotel, I sent an invitation to some of my city friends to drive out that evening and join me in a fish supper. They accepted the invitation, and were all on hand at the appointed time. We were seated around a table enjoying ourselves drinking wine and telling stories, while waiting for supper, when we heard quite a noise down stairs in the direction of the bar-room. I told my friends to remain seated and have some more wine, while I went down and inquired into the cause of the racket. They did so, and I ran down to the bar-room. Looking in, I saw ten or twelve steamboat cooks, who were on a big drunk. They were breaking glasses, fussing with the barkeeper, and raising old Ned generally.

I knew some of them, but as they were all pretty drunk, I concluded I could do no good, and was just turning away to go back to my friends, when four or five Union officers and a man by the name of Dave Curtis came up and started into the bar-room. They saw and recognized me, and insisted on me joining them. We all went in and were taking a drink, when the cooks began their racket again. One fellow was just spoiling for a fight. He was a bully, and had whipped some of his associates, so no one seemed to want anything to do with him. Like most drunken men, he wanted everybody to know what a great man he was, so he began on us. We requested him to go away and join his friends, but he would not do it, so finally I said:

"That fellow must have a fight, or he will get sick."

Then I told him I would let him try his hand on me, if he was sure he could lick any man in the room. He came at me, made a feint with his left and then let drive with his right. I dropped down, ran under, and had him on his back before he knew what I was doing. Then I gave him just one with "that old head of mine," and I broke every bone in his nose. He yelled like an Indian, then I let him up. His friends or companions did not offer to interfere in his behalf, so I expect they were very glad to see him get licked so easy and so very quick—for it was all over in much less time than it takes me to tell the story.

I took another drink with the Union officers and then hurried up stairs to my friends whom I had left waiting for their fish supper. They asked me what was the cause of the noise down stairs, and I told them it was a lot of drunken cooks. I said nothing about having had a fight, and they did not know anything about it until we all went down stairs, when some one spoke to me about the fellow's nose being all broken, etc. Then they asked me when I had a fight. I told them while we were waiting for supper. They thought it was pretty quick work to raise a fuss and whip a good cook while another cook was frying some fish.

A HARD HEAD.

In most all of the many fights that I have been engaged in, I made use of what I have called "that old head of mine." I don't know (and I guess I never will while I'm alive) just how thick my old skull is; but I do know it must be pretty thick, or it would have been cracked many years ago, for I have been struck some terrible blows on my head with iron dray-pins, pokers, clubs, stone-coal, and bowlders, which would have split any man's skull wide open unless it was pretty thick. Doctors have often told me that my skull was nearly an inch in thickness over my forehead. They were only guessing at it then, of course, but if my dear old mother-in- law don't guard my grave, they will know after I am dead, sure enough, for I have heard them say so.

For ten or fifteen years during my early life, the sporting men of the South tried to find a man to whip me, but they couldn't do it, and finally gave it up as a bad job. After they gave up trying to have me whipped, and they knew more about my old head, they would all go broke that I could whip or kill any man living, white or black, by butting him. I have had to do some hard butting in my early days, on account of the reputation I had made for my head.

I am now nearly sixty years of age, and have quit fighting, but I can to-day batter down any ordinary door or stave in a liquor barrel with "that old head of mine;" and I don't believe there is a man living (of near my own age) who can whip me in a rough-and-tumble fight. I never have my hair clipped short, for if I did I would be ashamed to take my hat off, as the lines on my old scalp look about like the railroad map of the State in which I was born.

During the winter of '67 or '68, John Robinson's circus was showing in New Orleans, and they had with them a man by the name of William Carroll, whom they advertised as "The man with the thick skull, or the great butter." He could out-butt anything in the show, except the elephant. One night after the show, Al. and Gill Robinson were up town, and their man Carroll was with them. We all met in a saloon and began drinking wine. While we were enjoying ourselves, something was said about butting, when Gill spoke up and said Carroll could kill any man in the world with his head. "Dutch Jake," one of the big sporting men of New Orleans, was in the party, and he was up in an instant, and said:

"What's that? I'll bet $1,000 or $10,000 that I can find a man he can't kill or whip either."

I knew what was up; and as we were all friends, I did not want to change the social to a butting match, so I said:

"Boys, don't bet, and Mr. Carroll and I will come together just once for fun."

The Robinson boys had great confidence in Carroll, and so did "Dutch Jake" have in me. I was at least fifty pounds heavier than Carroll, and I knew that was a great advantage, even if his head was as hard as my own. It was finally agreed that there would be no betting, so we came together. I did not strike my very best, for I was a little afraid of hurting the little fellow; but then he traveled on his head, so I thought I could give him a pretty good one. After we struck, Carroll walked up to me, laid his hand on my head, and said:

"Gentlemen, I have found my papa at last."

He had the hardest head I ever ran against; and if he had been as heavy as I was, I can't say what the result would have been if we had come together in earnest.

Poor fellow! He is dead now, and I know of no other man with as hard a head, except it is myself. My old head is hard and thick, and maybe that is the reason I never had sense enough to save my money. It is said of me that I have won more money than any sporting man in this country. I will say that I hadn't sense enough to keep it; but if I had never seen a faro bank, I would be a wealthy man to-day.

SAVED BY HIS WIFE.

I shall never forget a trip that I took many years ago in the steamer Tagleona, a Pittsburg boat. It was her first trip out, and Adam Clark, who has now been dead for many years, was with me as a partner. He was doing the playing, and money was plenty. Clark was an Englishman, and when he spread his board in the hall- way and made his introductory speech, a great crowd gathered about; for as he dropped his h's, like all Cockneys, it was very amusing to hear him talk. In those days the big fish had the first choice, and the small fry, or poor fish, had to wait around some time before they got a chance to lose their money. I noticed an old man hanging around, and so I sized him up as a pretty solid fellow, and giving my partner the wink, I called up all hands to the bar, and they all came willingly enough except a couple of fellows, who hung back. I sent one of the crowd back to invite them up, as I did not want them to see what the old man lost. They came along, and while we were at the bar Adam downed his man for $4,000 at one bet. When we came back from the bar, Adam kept right on playing as if nothing had happened, using the same cards with the corner turned up. When the poor fish saw this they all wanted to play, so I said:

"Boys, let's make up a pony purse and give him a good bet."

This was readily agreed to, and when I asked Adam what was the least he would turn for, he said $2,000. I was pretty sure there was not that amount of money in the party, but I remarked that I would go half of it. Then a little wizen-faced, dried-up old man said he would put up $400. The rest chipped in, and $900 was raised. I put up the balance, and we were all ready to turn, when down the cabin rushed a woman squealing like a stuck pig. Adam looked up, and the little woman grabbed the dried-up old man and shouted:

"Where's my money? Give me my money!"

Of course such a commotion aroused all the passengers on the boat, who were anxious to see what the trouble was. I got the old lady to one side, and when she cooled off a little, she said that she had $400 in her dress pocket and had lain down to sleep; that when she awoke she found her money gone, and knew no one had taken it but her husband, as he had done such a trick before.

"I knew he was gambling," she said.

Adam counted out the $400 and handed it back to the old man, and said:

"That settles it. I won't take the bet."

Somebody turned the card for the balance, and, of course, Adam won.

At another time a man lost a few hundred dollars and then went back and got the keys of his wife's trunk, and, securing some jewelry and a fine shawl, sold them to a passenger, and receiving the money came around and lost it. After the game was all over I learned of the occurrence, and going to the party who had purchased the goods I made him disgorge, and paid him what he paid for them. Taking the goods and wrapping them up in a paper, I handed them to the lady, at the same time I advised her to keep her keys from her husband, and have no doubt she was very grateful to me for it, for she seemed to be. I did not want the lady to lose her jewelry and shawl, for I have noticed that a man who will gamble away all his money, and then steal his wife's money, jewelry, or clothes to raise a stake, is not the man to replace what he has stolen, in any great hurry.

COLD STEEL.

We got aboard of Captain Charles Blunt's boat at Omaha, Neb., bound for St. Louis, Mo. We played our games during the trip, without anything of notice occurring until we made a landing at a wood station, about twenty miles above St. Joseph, Mo. It was a lonely place in the woods, with nothing but long wood-piles to make it a desirable place to stop over night at. There had been some trouble between the deck-hands, who were mostly Irishmen, and some of the officers of the boat. So the former chose this lonely spot to settle the matter. After loading the wood they all armed themselves with clubs and bowlders, and took possession of the stairway, swearing that no man should come down on deck or let go the line until their wrongs were righted. Captain Blunt was a brave man, and did not like to be forced to do anything against his own free will; but he did not know just how to manage those fellows, for they were a bad crowd, and had the advantage of him in numbers; besides he had no arms on board except a few pistols, and he knew that an Irishman did not fear gunpowder. Finally I said to the Captain:

"If you will take my advice, we can soon run those fellows ashore, and then we can cut the line and leave them."

He asked me what I would do, so I told him to get all the butcher knives in the kitchen, and everything else on board that would cut, or looked like it would, and arm the officers and passengers, and we would charge down the steps on to the fellows.

He thought it a good plan, so we were soon ready. I wanted the largest knife, telling the Captain I would lead if he would let me have it. He wanted the glory of leading the attack himself, so I had hard work to get the largest one; but I did get one about fifteen inches long. We all rushed out of the cabin and down the steps with a war-whoop, and before the deck-hands had time to rally, we were onto them, cutting right and left. We did not want to kill; we only wanted to scare them. I got a lick on the head; it did not hurt, but it made me mad, and I cut two or three fellows across the part that they sit down on, and they began to yell cold steel, and made a rush for the plank. The others followed, and were in such a hurry they did not take time to find the plank, but jumped overboard and waded out. Some one cut the line, and we were soon away from shore. The Captain told the pilot to hold the boat, and then he told the deck-hands if they would come on board and behave themselves he would take them to St. Joseph. They promised they would not raise any more disturbance, so he took them on board and we started on our way.

Soon after starting some one told the Captain that the deck-hands were talking about having me arrested when we got to St. Joseph, so he put me ashore on the opposite side of the river, and when he was through with his business at St. Joseph he came over after me and took me to St. Louis. We landed alongside of the steamer Emigrant a short distance below St. Joseph. Captain Blunt went over on board and told the officers all about our gallant charge. My old friend, Henry Mange, who keeps a boat store in New Orleans, was running the bar on the Emigrant at the time, and he often asks me about the war on the Missouri River.

"RATTLESNAKE JACK."

"Rattlesnake Jack" was about the last man I worked with as a partner playing three-card monte. His right name was Jackson McGee. He was born and raised in the mountains of Virginia, and spent much of his early life catching snakes, which he would sell to showmen, who gave him the name of "Rattlesnake Jack." He was over fifty years of age, and weighed about 160 pounds, at the time he and I worked together. He was a good talker, and had but few equals at throwing the three cards. He looked like the greenest sort of a backwoodsman when he had his "make-up" on. He was not the bravest man in the world, but he was not afraid of snakes, and could make some good big bluffs with his long six-shooter. He is now living in West Virginia with his family, and no one would think, to see him, that he used to catch rattlesnakes for a living, or played three-card monte with old Devol. He has a beautiful daughter, who is highly accomplished, and Jack is proud of her.

Old Jack and I were on board of the steamer Natchez one Saturday night, coming out of New Orleans, and she had a large number of passengers on board. We did not see any good monte suckers, so I opened up a game of rouge-et-noir and did a fair business until 11 o'clock; then I closed up and went to the bar, where I met a gentleman I had often seen on the packets. He knew me and my business, for he had seen me play monte several times. He invited me to join him in a drink, and then laughingly said:

"Devol, how is the old business, anyway?"

I laughed back, saying: "Oh, it's just so-so; but let's take another drink."

He accepted, and while we were drinking, old "Rattlesnake Jack" walked up and said to the barkeeper:

"Mister, how much you ax fur a dram o' liquor?"

The barkeeper told him 15 cents.

"Fifteen cents?" says Jack. "Wall, now! Up whar I live you can get a dram for 5 cents; but let's have her, even if she does cost 15 cents. I reckon as how it must be perty good."

The barkeeper set him out a small glass and a bottle. Jack looked at the glass, picked it up, and stuck his finger in it, then set it down and said:

"Say, mister, do you call a little thing like that a 15 cent dram o' liquor?"

The barkeeper told him he did. Jack filled the glass full, saying:

"Up whar I live they give you a tin cup when you take a dram."

He pulled out a roll about the size of a "boarding house pillow" to pay for the drink, and the smallest bill he had was $100. That made my friend open his eyes, and he whispered to me:

"Devol, he would be a good subject for you."

I replied, "Yes; and I am going to have some of that money before I go to bed."

My friend then turned to Jack and said: "Old boy, where do you come from?"

"I used to live in Greenups," replied Jack.

"Where in the world is Greenups?"

"Wall, Greenups is up nigh the Big Sandy."

As I was born in the part of the country, and knew something about the people, I asked Jack if he was one of those fellows who made the counterfeit half-dollars on the Big Sandy. He laughed and said:

"No; but I'd spent more'n a half-bushel of 'em for dames afore they got on to 'em."

I then asked Jack where he was bound for, and he replied;

"Wall, you see I sold my farm up on 'Sandy' for a perty big pile, and pap writ me to come out whar he lives in Texas and buy another; so I'm just goin' out to see pap, and if I likes it out thar, I reckon as how I'll stay."

My friend then asked him if he would not join us in a drink.

"I'll jine yer in a dram; but I'll be gol darned if you don't look just like a chap what dinkered me out of $1,000 when I got off at Cincinnati to see the town; but he wasn't so big."

That made my friend laugh. He asked Jack how he lost his money.

"Wall, I'll tell yers. I went into a place what thar was a big glass full of beer painted on the winder to get a dram, and a nice- looking chap got talking to me, and perty soon he asked me to have a dram along with him. Then another fellar what was thar, he axed us if we ever played Rock-mountain euchre. He had some tickets, and he would jumble 'em up, and then we would bet yer on 'em. This nice-looking chap he bet him, and he win $500. Wall, I just planked down my money, and the fellar win it; but he gave me the tickets for a dram, and I'm goin' to take 'em out what pap lives—but I won't tell pap I lost anything, fur he don't know how much I got fur my farm."

My friend said, "Why, Devol, he has been playing three-card monte."

I told him not to give me away, and I would get the fellow to play the game for us. Then I said to old Jack:

"What are you going to do with the tickets when you get out to Texas?"

"Wall, I'm goin' to larn 'em, and when I get out to pap's I'll win all the money them gol-darned cow-boys hev got."

"Do you think you can learn them well enough to win their money?"

"Oh, yes; I'm larnen 'em all the time, and sometimes I can mix 'em up so I fool myself."

My friend thought he must help me, so he invited us to join him in another drink.

Old Jack said: "Wall, I don't care if I do."

After getting another dram into old Jack I asked him if he would show us the tickets. He said:

"Yes, but you mustn't spile 'em, fur I want to keep 'em perty till I git out war pap lives."

He then pulled out a leather pouch, opened it, took out a handkerchief, unfolded it very carefully, and produced the three cards. My friend shrugged his shoulders and laughed. I asked old Jack to show us how he played the game, when he said:

"I can't show yer so good without a table."

I told him there was a nice table in the barber shop, and invited him to go back. He consented, so we were soon in the shop seated around the table, and Jack began to throw the cards. My friend was very attentive, for he was sure I would win the old fellow's money, and he did not want to miss any of the fun.

I told Jack I would bet him the drinks I could turn up the ticket with the boy on it.

He said: "Wall, look here. I've got the name of bein' the spunkyest fellar up at Greenups'. I never 'lowed any man to back me down fur a dram, or two drams, either."

He mixed them up; I turned the wrong card and lost. Then Jack laughed so loud and long that it attracted the attention of everybody that was awake on the boat, and quite a number of gentlemen came in to see the fun.

When Jack recovered from his big laugh, he said:

"I knowed yer would miss it."

I called for the drinks, and then told my friend I did not want to turn the right card until I could get a big bet.

After we drank our liquor, I began bantering old Jack to bet me some money, but he did not want anything but drams. I kept on playing him, and finally he said:

"I'll go yer once for $5, anyhow."

I told him to put up. I turned and lost again.

Then old Jack rolled off his chair and roared so loud that I was afraid he would wake up all the passengers on the boat. The room was soon full of people, and every one was crowding around to get a look at the old fool that was making so much noise.

Jack ordered the drinks, saying:

"You fellars think I haint got no sense, but I'll bet yer's long's I's got two kerds to yer's one."

While old Jack was paying the barkeeper for the drams I put a pencil mark on the boy ticket, and my friend saw me do it.

I then offered to make another bet.

Old Jack said: "I'll bet $10 this time."

I told him to put up, and he did. Then I replied:

"I will raise you $500," and I put up the amount in my friend's hands.

"What's that? What yer put up $500 agin my $10 for?"

My friend told him he would have to put up $500 more, or he would lose his $10.

"Wall, I'll be gol darned; I haint goin' to be backed out, fur if the boys in Greenups would hear on't they wouldn't speak to me when I go back thar."

He put up $500 more, then mixed the cards, and I turned the winner. Everybody roared with laughter. Old Jack turned around, looked at the crowd for a moment, then said:

"You fellars kin laugh at me just's much as yer like, but I don't 'low no man to back me down."

He then told the barkeeper to bring him a dram.

I said to my friend: "That old fool will lose all his money before he gets to Texas, and I may as well have it as any one else."

He replied: "Yes; and I'm going to have some of it myself."

He then insisted on making a bet. I told him to make a good big one, as the old fellow was getting too drunk to handle his cards, and he might fall over and stop the game.

My friend then ordered the drinks, thinking, no doubt, that if he would treat, old Jack would bet more liberally with him.

When the bystanders saw Jack take another of those big drams, some of them remarked:

"Those gamblers have that old fellow so drunk they will win all of his money before they let him go. It's a shame, and we ought to stop it."

My friend offered to bet $500, when old Jack said:

"Boys, I'm drinking, and I don't care, fur my spunk's up, and I'd just's soon bet her all the first bet; them tarnal fellers guzzled me out of $1,000 in Cincinnater, and I wants ter get even." So saying he pulled out his big roll, slammed it down on the table, and said:

"Thar's my pile, and you fellars darn't cover her."

I whispered to my friend, telling him that now was the time. Then I asked Jack how much he had in the roll. He said:

"Wall, I don't know; I had $7,000 when I left Greenups, and I lost $1,000 in Cincinnater and what yer win just now, so I reckon I've got nigh onto $6,000."

I requested one of the bystanders to count the money, which he did, and found it to be just $5,500. My friend had $3,400, and I put up the balance.

I told him to turn the card, as he had up the most.

Old Jack mixed them up, but he was so drunk he could hardly pick up a card. My friend could hardly wait for Jack to say ready before he dove in and grabbed the one with the spot on it, but when he turned it over he saw it was not the one with the boy on it.

Old Jack snatched the money from the gentleman that was holding stakes, and shoved it down into his pockets. Then turning to the crowd, he said:

"Wall, why don't yer's laugh now?"

They did laugh, for most of them felt like it. Old Jack joined in, and laughed louder than any of them, and then turning around to the table, he began looking for his precious tickets. He had put them in his pocket without any one seeing him, but pretended he was ruined if he could not find them. I told him the barkeeper had some just like them, and I would go and get them for him. That quieted him down, and he said:

"Wall, if I kin get t'others I don't care, fur I wanted to show 'em to pap when I gets out thar in Texas."

I went to the bar, as though I had gone for the cards, and returned with them. Old Jack laughed when he saw them, saying:

"Wall, I be gol-darned if they haint just like t'others."

I gave Jack the new set, but I turned up a corner on the boy card so every one could see it. Then I told him to mix them up, and I would make him a bet of a $1,000. We put up the money; I turned and won. Then the bystanders began to take more interest in the game than ever, and the fun began again. One fat gentleman crowded in and wanted to bet. I said:

"Boys, let us make up a pony purse, and we will all bet on the same card." My friend wanted to get into the same party, but did not have any ready cash, so he asked me for a loan, offering his watch and diamond as security. I let him have $1,000, which he put up. The fat gent put up $1,300, and another man put in $400. I put up $1,000, which made the purse $3,700. Old Jack was very drunk, but he got up his money someway, and then began to mix. We picked on the fat gentleman to do the turning. He took his time, as most fat men do, but when he turned the card it was the wrong one, so we lost all our money. Just then some one yelled out:

"Sold again and got the money."

That broke up the little game, and old Jack said:

"Boys, come and take a dram with me, and then I'll go to bed."

We all went to the bar, and when Jack took his big dram I noticed that he drank out of a different bottle from the rest of us. He then went to his room, and in a short time I went to look for him, but I did not find him in his room. He was up in the texas eating up the officers' lunch.

My friend said he would send me the money to redeem his jewelry by the barkeeper the next trip. As I had downed him for $3,400 in cash I gave him his jewelry on his promise. He did not keep it, and well I knew he would not. The next time I met him he said nothing about the $1,000, so I told him he did not owe me anything, as I got one-half of what he lost, and that I had sent out West and got "Rattlesnake Jack" on purpose to down him at the old game that he knew so well. That made him mad, and he would never speak to me after that, and that nearly broke my heart.

"SHORT STOPS."

McGawley, "Rattlesnake Jack," and myself were on the Morgan Railroad, going out from New Orleans.

I occupied a seat beside an old gent from Iowa, on his way to Texas to buy a farm.

The conductor was on to our racket, and would not give us a show.

We had to wait for a change of conductors before we could open up for business.

I gave Jack the office to come up, which he did, looking like a Texas ranchman.

The cow-boy had been to New Orleans to sell his critters, and wanted a dram.

The old gent did not drink, nor did I—just then.

The cow-boy had been pranking with a new game, had lost $1,000, but had plenty more left. He showed us how he had lost his money.

I bent up the corner of the winning card and won a few hundred dollars. McGawley, not knowing anything about the corner of the winner being turned up, lost a few hundred dollars.

The old gent knew all about the corner and how I won. He wanted to bet, but his money was sewed up in his shirt.

I had a sharp knife that I loaned him.

He cut his shirt and got out his money.

The cow-boy would bet his pile, amounting to $10,000, against the old gent's pile.

I would bet with him if I was the old gent, for he had but $4,600.

The money was put up. The card was turned. The old gent lost.

The cow-boy bet another man $200 and won, then asked him for a dram out of his bottle.

I had an idea that my wife wanted me to come back and see her in the Texas sleeper. I would return as soon as I learned how her headache was.

A station was reached. I got off. Looking after the receding train, I saw two men drop off; they walked back to the station. McGawley, Rattlesnake Jack, and myself waited for the next train to New Orleans, with $4,800 more than we had a few hours previous.

We were on the train going in to New Orleans. Old Jack occupied a seat just behind a lady and gentleman.

The lady had something lying in her lap about the size of an infant, covered with a shawl. Whatever it was, she was very careful of it.

McGawley and I were seated across the aisle, near by.

Jack was telling the lady and gentleman some very interesting story. He showed them three tickets. He threw them over each other on the seat beside him.

The lady gave the gentleman some money, which he laid over on the seat where Jack was throwing the tickets. He reached over and turned one of the tickets.

Jack put the money in his pocket.

The lady gave the gentleman more money.

He laid it in the same place as before. He turned one of the tickets the same as before.

Jack put the money in his pocket the same as before.

The lady talked to the gentleman in very angry tones. She talked to Jack very pleasantly. She took out more money and offered to lay it on the seat where the gentleman had laid the money before.

Jack would not let a lady put money down.

The lady uncovered the something she had lying in her lap. She showed it to Jack. They talked about it. She got up and called me over to hold it.

Jack gave me $100 to hold. He threw the tickets.

The lady reached over and turned one of them. She threw up both hands and said: "Mercy on me! What shall I do? I have lost my dear Tommy."

I handed Jack the $100 and the twelve-pound Tommy.

The passengers all roared with laughter.

The lady scolded her hubby very badly. She cried, sobbed, and wrung her hands, saying: "I have lost my Tommy! Oh, my dear Tommy, Tommy; I will never see you any more!"

Jack could stand it no longer. He handed his Thomas cat over to the lady.

First she smiled, then she laughed, and then she said: "Hubby, get out your bottle and give this dear, good, nice gentleman a drink."

The passengers all roared again.

Jack took a drink. The train rolled into the depot. We all bid the lady and gentleman and "Tommy" good-bye and got off. "Selah."

KICKERS.

All men that bet should not be classed as gamblers, for some things that style themselves men will bet (to win, of course), and kick if they lose, which a gambler will never do, although he may sometimes be sucker enough to bet (to win) against a sure thing, like old monte, or a brace game.

A kicker, or squealer, always speaks of the money he has lost, against any game, as his money; while the gambler considers the money he loses, against any game, as lost; and it belongs to the person who won it, and you never hear one of them do any kicking.

"Old Rattlesnake" and I left New Orleans one evening on the steamer Robert E. Lee.

We played the good old game in the usual way, and caught quite a number of good sized suckers, among which was one from St. Joseph, La. We got off at Baton Rouge, and took another boat back to New Orleans. The next trip we made on the Lee we learned from my old friend Carnahan, the steward, that the St. Joseph sucker, whom we had downed on the last trip, made a big kick when he learned that we had left the boat at Baton Rouge. He said he would get a lot of the St. Joseph boys, go back to where we got off, and make us give up his money, or he would kill us.

The steward told him not to do it, for said he:

"Those fellows are bad men to fool with. I have seen twenty suckers try to make them give up, but I never saw them do it."

As we were not within miles of this kicker, who, I have no doubt, styled himself a man, of course he could do a great deal of blowing; but when a short time afterwards we met him with a lot of St. Joseph boys at his back, we could not get within speaking distance of him. I was glad of it, as they were a bad crowd.

Old Carnahan and I were cabin boys on the same boat before the Mexican war. He is dead now, but I shall always remember him for telling the kicker, "Those fellows are bad men to fool with."

Old Jack and I traveled North during the summer season, playing the boats and railroad trains.

We were going out of Detroit, Mich., on the Great Western Railroad, over into Ontario, one night, when there was quite a number of half- breed (French and Irish) Canadians on board. They had six or seven bull-dogs with them that had been fighting against some dogs in Detroit, and from their talk we learned that they downed Uncle Sam. So we thought (as we were Americans) that we would try and down them; not with bull-dogs, but with the good old game.

Jack was soon among them, and in a short time, with my assistance as capper, he had downed several of the Canucks for a few hundred. They were kickers from the old house. They all got together and began cackling like a lot of old hens when a hawk is after them. No one but themselves could understand a word they said; but they soon made a rush for Jack and demanded, in English, that he give up their money, or they would kill him. Their bull-dogs wanted to take part in the fight, and I guess they would have done it if it had not been for their owners, for if a dog's master runs he will be sure to run after him. Old Jack whipped out that big, long six- shooter of his, and the instant they saw it they all started and made a regular stampede for the other car. The dogs took after their masters, and it was fun to see the passengers climbing upon the seats. The men and the dogs rushed into the ladies' car, and you would have thought it was on fire if you had heard the screams and yells that the passengers set up when the men and bull-dogs rushed in among them. The poor dumb brutes were frightened as much as their owners, and they set up the d——dest howl I ever heard in all my life. We were just nearing a station, so I told old Jack to drop off, which he did, and then he got onto the hind sleeper. The people at the station had heard the screams, and came running to see what was the matter.

The railroad boys had hard work to get the dogs and men out of the ladies' car, but they could not get one of the dogs back into the cars he had been run out of. I did not blame the brutes much, for they had been badly frightened.

We were coming out of Chicago at one time on the Burlington & Quincy Railroad, and had downed some suckers, when one of them began to kick like a bad mule. He told the conductor that old Jack had robbed him out of his money. The conductor told him he could do nothing except turn the gambler over to the police at the next station. He locked the doors to keep Jack from jumping off, and the sucker quieted down, thinking he would be O. K. when he reached the station. I saw two gentlemen from Quincy in the car that I was acquainted with, so I wrote a note to them, requesting that they tell the kicker he was in the same boat with the gambler, as he would be fined just as much as the man who got his money, and that the fine in Illinois was $100. The result was the fellow hid himself, and when the conductor pointed old Jack out he could not find the kicker. We got off with the officers, and as no one was on hand to testify, of course we only had to treat until the next train arrived.

WILLIAM JONES. (CANADA BILL.)

Canada Bill—peace to his ashes—is dead. He died in Reading, Penn., about ten years ago, and, poor fellow, he did not leave enough money of all the many thousands he had won to bury him. The Mayor of Reading had him decently interred, and when his friends in Chicago learned the fact, they raised money enough to pay all the funeral expenses and erect a monument to the memory of one who was, while living, a friend to the poor. I was in New Orleans at the time of his death, and did not hear the sad news for some months after.

I hope the old fellow is happy in a better land. If kind acts and a generous heart can atone for the sin of gambling, and entitle men to a mansion in the skies, Canada Bill surely got one, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

There never lived a better hearted man. He was liberal to a fault. I have known him to turn back when we were on the street and give to some poor object we had passed. Many a time I have seen him walk up to a Sister of Charity and make her a present of as much as $50, and when we would speak of it, he would say:

"Well, George, they do a great deal for the poor, and I think they know better how to use the money than I do."

Once I saw him win $200 from a man, and shortly after his little boy came running down the cabin, Bill called the boy up and handed him the $200 and told him to give it to his mother.

He was a man, take him for all in all, that possessed many laudable traits of character. He often said suckers had no business with money. He had some peculiar traits. While he was a great man at monte, he was a fool at short cards. I have known men who knew this to travel all over the country after Bill, trying to induce him to play cards with them. He would do it, and this is what kept him poor.

Mason Long, the converted gambler, says of William Jones (Canada Bill):

"The confidence men and monte players were in clover. Among them was the most notorious and successful thief who ever operated in this country, Canada Bill. He was a large man, with a nose highly illuminated by the joint action of whisky and heat. Bill squandered his money very lavishly, and drank himself to death in about a year after the incident I have related. He died a pauper."

"But by all thy nature's weakness, Hidden faults and follies know. Be thou, in rebuking evil, Conscious of thine own."

Is Mason Long converted? God and himself only know.

Was he fully converted when he wrote "The Converted Gambler"?

If the Bible be true, and it was left for me to decide, I would answer in the language of St. Paul:

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal."

A true Christian will exercise charity toward all offenders, granting a boon of pity to the erring, and cast a glance of mercy upon the faults of his fellows. He will cherish a recollection of his virtues, and bury all his imperfections.

Is Mason Long a true Christian? Read his description of Canada Bill. Then read a true description of Bill's personal appearance on page 190 in this book. If Mason Long had never seen Canada Bill, I would excuse him, but he said he capped for him once, or at least he tried to do so.

Has he shown any Christian charity in speaking of a man in his grave? Read what he says, and you will see that he or I are mistaken.

Bill was not a thief, he was honest to a fault. He was not a large man, for he never weighed over 130. He did not have a nose highly illuminated by the joint action of whisky and heat. He did not drink himself to death within a year of 1876, for he visited me in New Orleans in 1877. He did not drink whisky at all. His great drink was Christian cider, and it was very seldom I could get him to drink wine. He did die a pauper, and God bless him for it, for he gave more money to the poor than a thousand professed Christians that I know, who make a great parade of their reformation.

The public put all sporting men into one class, called gamblers; likewise they put all church members into classes and call them Christians, etc.

There is as wide a difference between a true gambler and one who styles himself a sport, as there is between a true Christian and one who puts on the cloak of Christianity to serve the devil in.

There is an old saying, "Honor among thieves." I will add a maxim or two: There is honor among gamblers, and dishonor among some business men that stand very high in the community in which they live.

THE TWO JUDGES.

"He can not e'en essay to walk sedate, But in his very gait one sees a jest That's ready to break out in spite of all His seeming."

Some years ago Judge Smith was upon the bench of the Police Court at New Orleans, and during the time Judge Wilson occupied the same position at Cincinnati.

Judge Smith made a trip to the North one summer, and stopped at Cincinnati for a few days on his way home.

While in the Queen City he formed the acquaintance of Judge Moses F. Wilson, and as he was in the "thirty-fifty" business like himself, he felt as though they were somewhat akin.

Judge Smith was very fond of a joke, and when he met Mose Wilson, he met a good-humored man, who had a fondness for "gags," and was ever joking.

These kindred spirits were soon well pleased with each other. Wilson felt that the duty of entertaining a fellow Judge from a sister city was incumbent upon him, and he just spread himself to do it.

They had a right royal time together, but all things must come to an end some time, and the time had come for Judge Smith to tear himself away and return once more to the field of his labor. They bid each other an affectionate good-bye, but not until after Mose had promised Smith to visit him the next winter, and stay forevermore. Judge Smith was at the depot. His baggage was on board, and he was just stepping upon the platform, when two gentlemen stepped up, and one of them said:

"We want you," at the same time displaying his police badge.

"What for?" inquired Smith.

"Suspicion," replied the officer.

"Gentlemen, you are mistaken; I am Judge of the Police Court of New Orleans."

"Oh! you are? Well, we never arrest a fellow like you that he is not a Judge, lawyer, doctor, or some big bug somewhere, to hear him tell it; but you take a walk with us up to the chief's office, and explain to him who and what you are."