Passing down the street
to-night, you may hear the wrangling of the gamblers mingling with
the rattle of the dice, and the clear, sharp crack of the balls on the
billiard-table.
The finest rooms in the city are gambling dens. In gilded parlor, amid
costly tapestry, you may behold these dens of death. These houses have
walls attractive with elaborate fresco and gems of painting--no sham
artist's daub, but a masterpiece. Mantel and table glitter with vases
and statuettes. Divans and lounges with deep cushions, the perfection
of upholstery, invite to rest and repose. Aquaria alive with fins and
strewn with tinged shells and zoophytes. Tufts of geranium, from bead
baskets, suspended mid-room, drop their witching perfume. Fountains
gushing up, sprinkling the air with sparkles, or gushing through the
mouth of the marble lion. Long mirrors, mounted with scrolls and wings
and exquisite carvings, catching and reflecting back the magnificence.
At their doors merchant-princes dismount from their carriages;
official dignitaries enter; legislators, tired of making laws, here
take a respite in breaking them.
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