Still another subject which has claimed Hogan's attention is that of gambling. Here, again, his personal experience is large enough to enable him to speak understandingly. A man who has himself lost and won thousands of dollars over the green cloth, is perhaps better fitted to express himself on the evil than one who has no practical knowledge of its operations. To begin with, no man who voluntarily enters a gambling room has a right to grumble if he loses his money. He is tempting fortune, and fortune is too fickle to be trusted without bitter disappointment. Even supposing that a man is playing at a perfectly square game, his chances of winning are less than even. But, in modern times, and in this country especially, absolutely square games are rarely found. The general policy among all professional gamblers is to take unfair advantage of their victims. Let it be understood that Ben Hogan does not denounce all men who make a business of gambling. He has counted among his personal acquaintances many of this class who were naturally generous and noble-hearted men. But the very nature of their occupation tends to blunt the sense of honor, and to make them treacherous even to their best friends. Outside of the game they may be genial, open-handed and companionable; but the power of the cards is such that they lose these qualities as soon as they are engaged in play. This dishonesty is, in short, but another form of the petty trickery resorted to in almost all branches of business. The grocer sells stale butter, if he can find a purchaser; the butcher cuts the bone so that it weighs more than the meat; the baker makes his bread an ounce lighter than the regulation weight, and the dry-goods dealer measures cloth so that thirty-five inches make a yard. All these things are counted a species of shrewdness by those who practice them. On precisely the same principle, the gambler deals from the bottom of the pack, or stacks the cards whenever he thinks he can do so without detection. In one case, the dishonesty is called sharp bargaining; in the other, it is called cheating. Both are equally disreputable, and, therefore, the gambler is not to be signaled out for especial denunciation. But knowing that he will be swindled, if possible, the man who gambles has no claim for sympathy. When he enters a faro bank, for instance, he should reflect that the men who are running the place do so in the expectation of making money; if they cannot make it fairly, they will make it by questionable means; and they will not be dainty in the selection of their victims. If, therefore, the man loses his money, he has nobody but himself to blame. All these opinions are, it will be admitted, sound and reasonable. If Ben Hogan's views could be infused into the public mind, the world would be the better for it. CHAPTER XXVIII. Conclusion.