I have fallen deep--never to rise. Those gray
hairs that I should have honored and protected I shall bring
down with sorrow to the grave. I will not curse my destroyer,
but oh! may God avenge the wrongs and impositions practised
upon the unwary in a way that shall best please Him. This, my
dear parents, is the last letter you will ever receive from
me. I humbly pray your forgiveness. It is my dying prayer.
Long before you shall have received this letter from me the
cold grave will have closed upon me forever. Life is to me
insupportable. I cannot, nay, I will not suffer the shame of
having ruined you. Forget and forgive is the dying prayer of
your unfortunate son."
The old father came to the post-office, got the letter, and fell to
the floor. They thought he was dead at first; but they brushed back
the white hair from his brow and fanned him. He had only fainted. I
wish he had been dead; for what is life worth to a father after his
son is destroyed?
When things go wrong at a gaming-table, they shout "Foul! foul!" Over
all the gaming-tables of the world I cry out "Foul! foul! Infinitely
foul!"
In modern days, in addition to the other forms of gambling, have
come up the thoroughly organized and, in some States, _legalized_
institution of lotteries.
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