THE GAMBLING-HOUSES OF NEW YORK NOTWITHSTANDING the law being against gambling, it prevails to a very great extent in New York. There is scarcely a street without a gambling-house-all private, of course, but well-known to those who indulge in that excitement. The game played is generally "Faro," and the stakes vary according to the class of house in which the game is played. In some of the lowest gaminghouses the stake is as low as five cents, and limited to a dollarthat is, the player cannot stake more than a dollar at a time, and not less than five cents. These latter houses are frequented by the very poorest workmen, discharged soldiers, broken-down gamblers, and street-boys. I think of all the street-boys in the world, the New York are most precocious. I have seen a shoeblack, about three feet high, walk up to the table, or "Bank," as it is generally called, and stake his money (five cents) with the air of a young spendthrift to whom "money is no object."

The most aristocratic-if I may use such a word when speaking of a republican people-faro bank, or gambling-house, is John Morrissey's, in Union-square, close by the head-quarters of the Fenians who believed in Head-Centre O'Mahony. I have often sat in the windows of this gambling-house, and listened to the wild harangues of the Fenian senators and centres, &c., next door, and watched the upturned faces of the Celtic dupes who, with mouths and ears wide open, swallowed everything they heard, and subscribed their hardlyearned dollars to support, in luxury and extravagance, the unprincipled adventurers who, under the name of patriots, preyed upon their ignorance and credulity. John Morrissy was originally a prizefighter, and lived by teaching the young Americans the noble art of self-defence, as he was not one of the leading men in his profession, and seldom ventured on a public fight. He afterwards set up a "Bar," or public-house, and over this he established a small "Faro-bank," which he enlarged and improved by degrees until it became well-known, and was very much frequented by the gam blers of New York. He succeeded so well at this business, that he was able, last year, to go to Saratoga; and, when all the country was flocking to that fashionable summer resort, he, having taken the largest house there, opened an immense hotel, ball-rooms, and gambling-rooms, and it is said he cleared a profit of two millions of dollars during the season. He is now mentioned as one of those who pay the most income-tax. His gambling-house in Unionsquare is magnificently furnished; at all hours of the day or night tables are laid out with every description of refreshment, which any

frequenter may partake of. The wines are very good. Almost every game of chance is played there, and the stakes are very high and unlimited. The frequenters of this house are the wealthy and wild young men of New York, and, occasionally, a southern-looking man who, perhaps, has saved some of his property, and the everlasting professional gambler.

It is very easy to distinguish the professional from the ordinary gambler. The latter has a nervous expression about the mouth, and an intense gaze upon the cards, and altogether a very serious, anxious appearance; while the professional plays in a very quiet manner, and seems to care but little how the game goes, and his desire to appear as if the game was new to him is almost certain to expose him.

Previous to the struggle for independence in the South, there were many hundreds of gamblers scattered about through the Southern towns, and the Mississippi steamboats used to abound with them. In the South a gambler was regarded as outside the pale of society, and classed with the slave trader, who was looked upon with loathing by the very same men who traded with him; such was the inconsistency of public opinion.

When the war broke out, and there were no longer any passenger steamboats on the Mississippi, the gambler's "occupation was gone" in the sunny South; patriotism he knew not of; and fearing conscription, he made his way to the less hospitable and more frugal North. The large cities were, of course, their principal meeting places: New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore were filled with them. The great inflation of the currency, the chronic state of excitement brought on by the war, and the large bounties issued to recruits, made those cities good fields for gambling operations. The American gambler differs from his European brethren in many respects; he is very frequently in education, appearance, and manner, a gentleman; and if his private history were known, it would be found that he was of good birth, and was at one time possessed of considerable fortune, but having lost all at the gaming-table, he gradually came down to the level of those who proved his ruin, and having no profession nor means of livelihood left to him, he adopted their mode of life.

On one occasion I met a brother of a Southern general (very famous in the late war, and still a wealthy man), who at one time was one of the richest planters in the state of Louisiana, and now acting as an agent for a set of gamblers to decoy young men of means from the several hotels in New York to their gaming-house. After losing everything he had, he became a croupier in a gamblinghouse in New Orleans, and afterwards plied his trade on the Mississippi for some years; then went into Mexico, and finally went

to New York, where he opened a house on his own account. During the war he speculated in "greenbacks," and lost all his ill-gotten gains, and had to descend to his present position.

There is nothing very interesting in this house of John Morrissey's; the same flocks of well-dressed and fashionable-looking men of all ages pass in and out all through the day and night; tens of thousands of dollars are lost and won; the "click" of the markers never cease; all speak in a low tone-everything has a serious, quiet appearance. The dealers seem to know everyone, and nod familiarly to all who approach their tables. John Morrissey is occasionally to be seen walking through the rooms, apparently a disinterested spectator. He is a short, thick-set man, of about forty years, dark complexion, and wears a long beard, dresses in a slovenly manner, and walks with a swagger. Now and then he approaches a table, makes a few bets, and is then lost in the crowd.

After the Opera-house and theatres are closed, this gamblinghouse becomes very full. In fact, the best time to see it to advantage, is about two or three o'clock in the morning.

A little below the New York Hotel, and on the opposite side of Broadway, there is a gambling-house, not quite so "respectable" as the one I have been describing, here the stakes are not below a dollar, and not more than twenty-five; there are no refreshments gratis, and the rooms are not so well furnished. The men to be seen gaming in this house, differ but very little in appearance from those in Union-square, but there seems to be less discipline amongst them, and more noise and confusion. It is a rare thing to see an intoxicated man in a gambling-house, the door-keepers are very par ticular as to whom they admit, and any disturbance which might call for the interference of the police would be ruinous to their business. The police are undoubtedly aware of everything going on in these houses, and do not interfere, so long as everything goes on quietly. Now and then a clerk spends his employer's money, and it is discovered where he lost it, then a raid is made by the police in force, the tables and all the gaming paraphernalia is carried off, and the proprietors heavily fined.

I witnessed a case of this: a young man, in the employment of a commission merchant, appropriated a large sum of his employer's money, and lost it at "Faro." He was arrested, and confessed what he had done with it. The police at once proceeded to the house where the Faro Bank was kept, and the scene, when it was known that the police were below, beggars description. The tables were upset, and notes and markers were flying about. Men, sprawling and scrambling on the floor, fought with one another for whatever they could seize; then the police entered and cleared the house, having arrested the owners of the bank. This was in one of

the lowest gaming-houses, where "skin" games (cheating games), are practised.

In the gambling-house in Broadway, near the New York Hotel, I have often noticed a young man, apparently of some eighteen or twenty years of age, fashionably dressed, and of prepossessing appearance. On some days he would play very high, and seemed to have most remarkable luck, but he always played with the air of an old gamester, seeming careless as to whether he won or lost. One night he lost so heavily, that he attracted the notice of all the players, every stake of his was swept away, and he still played on until his last dollar was lost; then he quietly walked out, whistling a popular Yankee air. He was there next day, minus his great coat, and watch and chain-he lost again, went out, and returned in his shirt sleeves, having pawned his coat studs and everything he could with decency divest himself of. He lost everything, and when I next saw him, he was selling newspapers in front of the post-office.

The mania for gambling is a most singular one. I have known a man to win a thousand dollars in a few hours, and yet he would not expend a dollar to get a dinner, but when he felt hungry, he went to a baker's shop and bought a loaf of bread, and that same night lost all his money at roulette.

There is another house on the corner of Centre and Grand streets, open during night and day. The stakes here are the same as in the one in Broadway, which I have just mentioned, and the people who play are very much the same-in fact, the same faces are constantly to be met with in all the gambling-houses, from the highest to the lowest. When a gambler has but small capital, he will go to a small house, where small stakes are admissable. I saw a man win fifty or sixty dollars at this place, and then hand in his checks (markers) to be cashed. The dealer handed him the money, and said, "Now you go off, straight away to Union-square, and pay away all you have won from here to John Morrissey. That is the way with all of them, they never come here until they are dead broke, and have only a dirty dollar or so to risk." There was some truth in what he said, but, notwithstanding, he managed to keep the bank going on.

There is a great temptation to a man who has won a sum of money at a small gambling-house, to go to a higher one, as he may then at a single stake win as much as he could possibly win if he had a run of luck in a dozen stakes at the smaller bank.

The house in Grand-street is painted a bright green, built of wood, and has a rather quiet bar downstairs. There does not seem to be very much done there in the gambling way, as half those who go in do not play. They stand around the tables, looking on, while not more than a few venture a stake on the game.

In No. 102, in the Bowery, there is one of the lowest of the gaming-houses I have seen in the Empire City. The proprietor is an Irishman; he employs three men as dealers, and they relieve one another every four hours during the day and night. The stakes here are of the lowest, and the people to be seen here of the most rough to be found in the City. The game is "faro," as else

where.

In this place I met an old friend with whom I had served in the army of Northern Virginia, under General Lee, in his Virginia Campaign of 1865. He told me he had been in New York since the end of the war, and lived a very uncertain sort of life. Whatever money he could earn he spent at the gaming-table. Sometimes he had a run of luck, and whilst it lasted he dressed well, and stopped at the most expensive hotels. One night he would sleep at the Astor House; and perhaps the next night he would not be able to pay for his bed, and would stay all night in the parks. Strange to say, hundreds live in this way, which is vulgarly called "scratching" in New York. I afterwards saw my friend driving an omnibus; and when I could speak to him, I found that he was still attending the banks with every cent he earned.

It is amusing to watch the proprietor of this place at the Bowery; he has a joke for every one he sees. "Hallo, old sport!" he cries; "come and try your luck-you look lucky this evening; and if you make a good run you may sport a gold watch and chain, and a velvet vest, like myself." Then to another, "Young clearthe-way, you look down at the mouth to-night! come along and have a turn! and never mind your supper to-night."

In this way the days and nights are passed in those gamblinghouses.