largely by means of checks on the National
banks of the city, men seldom carrying money about their persons. Here
Mr. Chamberlain has to use his wits. A check given for gaming purposes
is not valid in law. Therefore it is necessary to know his man--to be
sure of his wealth, to be certain of his credit. It requires
instantaneous decision. If the check is refused the drawer is mortally
offended. But a few evenings since a city millionaire offered his check;
it was declined. This was Chamberlain's mistake. It is said that if a
merchant repudiates his gambling check at the bank it will destroy his
credit in commercial circles. This is the only safeguard upon which the
faro bank relies. It shows, however, to what a dangerous extent gambling
has laid hold of the mercantile community, how rottenness is at this hour
the inward germ of apparent soundness, and how heads of heavy concerns
fritter away their capital at faro.

"The largest number of business men who play at Chamberlain's are stock
brokers, and these persons say openly that it is a fairer game than the
cunning and unscrupulous gambling of Wall street. The brokers, as well
as other patrons, go in the night time to try and regain what they lost
by day in speculation. Thus they alternate between one gaming resort and
the other throughout the year. At the faro table they may lose several
thousand dollars; but this they consider equivalent pay for rich suppers,
costly wines, fine cigars and a merry time, and they are willing to pay
for fun.

"Besides the opportunities which Chamberlain affords to his patrons to
lose or win, as luck may direct, he keeps a sort of midnight national
bank, where he will cash a check for any man he knows as a reliable
party, and many who never think of gambling take advantage of his
accommodating spirit. This is why he is reputed a good and valuable
neighbor.

"How skilfully contrived are all these minutiae of a gambling palace!
They seduce even those who would gladly have never seen a game of chance,
and before one is aware of his danger he is past redemption."

Next to the first-class houses come the Second-Class Houses, or "Hells,"
as they are called in the city. These lie principally along Broadway and
the side streets leading from it, and in the Bowery. They are numerous,
and are the most frequented by strangers. They are neither as elegantly
furnished, nor as exclusive as to their guests, as the first-class
houses.