o to Epsom races on a
"Derby day," and there you may form an idea of the scale upon which
English gaming is carried on--for gaming it is in the very lowest sense
of the word. Talk of "noble sport,"--of an admiration for that fine
animal--the horse. Bah! Noble, indeed! Fancy those seedy scamps, who
in thousands and tens of thousands flock upon every race-course,--fancy
them and their harlotic companions possessed with the idea of anything
fine or noble! Of all who crowd there the horse alone is noble--naught
could be more ignoble than his _entourage_.

No, moral England! You are no pattern for the nations in this respect.
You are not free from the stain, as you imagine yourself. You have a
larger population of gamblers,--_horse-gamblers_ if you will, than any
other people; and, however noble be your game, I make bold to affirm
that your gamesters are the seediest, snobbiest, and most revolting of
the tribe. There is something indescribably mean in the life and habits
of those hungry-looking vultures who hang about the corners of Coventry
Street and the Haymarket, out at elbows, out at heels, sneaking from
tavern to betting-house, and from betting-house to tavern. There is a
meanness, a positive cowardice in the very nature of their game,--their
small ventures and timid "hedging" of bets. In comparison, the bold
ringer of dice has something _almost_ noble in him. Your apathetic Don,
who stakes his gold onzas on a single throw of the ivory--your Mexican
monte-player, who risks his doubloons on each turn of the cards,--are,
to some extent, dignified by the very boldness of their venture. With
them gambling is a passion--its excitement their lure; but Brown, and
Smith, and Jones, cannot even plead _the passion_. Even _that_ would
exalt them.

Of all gamblers by profession the "sportsman" of the Mississippi Valley
is perhaps the most picturesque. I have already alluded to their
elegant style of attire, but, independent of that, there is a dash of
the gentleman--a certain _chivalresqueness_ of character which
distinguishes them from all others of their calling. During the wilder
episodes of my life I have been _honoured_ with the acquaintance of more
than one of these _gentlemen_, and I cannot help bearing a somewhat high
testimony in their favour. Several have I met of excellent moral
character,--though, perhaps, not quite up to the standard of Exeter
Hall. Some I have known of noble and generous hearts--doe