The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 12, November, 1836 — John Shaqi
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 12, November, 1836Various
General
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 12, November, 1836
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“‘The fact that I warn you of the error, and more than that,’ said
Roberts, ‘you have the power, I have observed it frequently, of
exciting yourself to boldness when it is required, and of bringing
your passions under curb when it is necessary they should be still. He
who possesses this self-command, although he may meet with occasional
reverses, will ultimately prove successful. But I do not wish to
persuade you against your inclination, and as I see that they are
preparing to commence the game, I will leave you; or suppose you sit
by and see how the fickle dame is disposed to treat me.’
“‘I do not object to that,’ said I, carelessly, and I accompanied him
to another part of the room.
“‘Who are the bankers?’ said Roberts, as we approached the group who
were busy with the preparations.
“‘Who?’ cried one, ‘why, only think, Wallis here takes it all upon
himself, and he is bragging that he will soon empty all our pockets.’
“‘Indeed! I have seen a bolder bird than he cut down. But we’ll play
low, Wallis?’
“‘Oh, of course. Ten checks are my limit, and we’ll put them at ten
dollars each.’
“‘And you call that low?’ said I.
“‘Why, not so very low, to be sure,’ said Roberts, ‘but not quite so
high neither as two thousand upon a three year old, eh! friend?’
“I was silent; the game proceeded for an hour. I looked on, and there
was but little change in the situation of the parties.
“‘Now,’ said Roberts, as the banker commenced a deal, ‘I think I have
you.’
“He placed the limited sum of a hundred dollars in such a situation,
as to be effected by three cards. He won—doubled—won again—again—and
pressed on, until he was winner about four thousand dollars. This was
the work of a few minutes. I was astonished; the dealer looked aghast.
“‘A glass round to my luck,’ cried Roberts. We drank that, and
another, and another, as Roberts continued to win. My whole attention
was taken up with _his_ play; I did not observe that the other betters
were generally losing. Presently, what with the wine I had drunk, and
the excitement necessarily induced by the spectacle before me, I began
to feel desirous to adventure, myself. I _did_ adventure, at first,
with success, while, on the contrary, Roberts’s luck began to desert
him.
“‘Hang it!’ said he, ‘it seems as if every one who comes in contact
with you to-day, were destined to suffer. You hammer us on the course,
and you are now mauling Wallis, at cards; but confound it, man, I wish
you would let somebody win besides yourself.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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