d to dress like a rich planter. He wore a broad-brimmed hat and a
very elegant tail coat, and was a big, handsome man.

"After the boat left New Orleans, this 'Jew Mose' would disguise himself
with whiskers and goggles, go to the barber shop and lay out his game.
George Duval and a fellow called 'Canada Bill' were the cappers. They
would bring in suckers, get their money, and generally get off the boat
about Baton Rouge.

"Once when I was a clerk on the _Robert E. Lee_, Duval got a young
fellow in tow, and the young fellow wanted to bet on the game, but he
had a friend with him, and his friend kept pulling him away.

"Later, when Duval had given up the idea of getting this young fellow's
money, and closed up his game, he appeared in the social hall of the
boat with a small bag held up to his face.

"Somebody asked him what was in the bag.

"'It's hot salt,' he said. 'I've got a toothache, and a bag of hot salt
is the best thing in the world for toothache.'

"Presently, when he went to his stateroom to get something, he left the
bag of salt on the stove to heat it up. While he was gone somebody
suggested, as a joke, that they dump out the salt and fill the bag with
ashes, instead. So they did it. And when Duval came back he held it up
to his face again, and seemed perfectly satisfied.

"'How does it feel now?' one of the fellows asked.

"'Fine,' said Duval. 'Hot salt is the best thing going.'

"At that, the man who had prevented the young fellow from betting, down
in the barber shop, earlier in the day, offered to bet Duval a hundred
dollars that the bag didn't contain salt.

"Duval took the bet and raised him back another hundred. But the man had
only fifty dollars left. However, another fellow, standing in the crowd,
put in the extra fifty to make two hundred dollars a side.

"Then Duval opened the bag, and it _was_ salt. He had changed the bags,
and the fellows who worked up the trick were his cappers."

One of the old-time river gamblers was an individual, blind in one eye,
known as "One-eyed Murphy." Murphy was an extremely artful manipulator
of cards, and made a business of cheating. One day, shortly after the
_Natchez_ had backed out from New Orleans and got under way, Marion
Knowles, a picturesque gentleman of the period, and one who had the
reputation of being polite even in the most trying circumstances, and no
matter how well he had dined, came in and stood for a time as a
spectator beside a table