d 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. There are hundreds of citizens on the way to
ruin through the lottery system. Some of the finest establishments in
town are by this process being demolished, and the whole land feels
the exhaustion of this accumulating evil. The wheel of Fortune is the
Juggernaut that is crushing out the life of this nation. The records
of the Insolvent Court of one city show that, in five years, two
hundred thousand dollars were lost by dealing in lottery tickets. All
the officers of the celebrated Bank of the United States who failed
were found to have expended the money embezzled for lottery tickets.

A man drew in a lottery fifty thousand dollars, sold his ticket for
forty-two thousand five hundred dollars, and yet did not have enough
to pay the charges against him for lottery tickets. He owed the
brokers forty-five thousand dollars.

An editor writes--"A man who, a few years ago, was blest with about
twenty thousand dollars (lottery money), yesterday applied to us for
ninepence to pay for a night's lodging."

A highly respectable gentleman drew twenty thousand dollars in a
lottery; bought more tickets, and drew again; bought more--drew more
largely; then rushed down headlong until he was pronounced by the
select men of the village a vagabond, and his children were picked up
from the street half starved and almost naked.

A hard-working machinist draws a thousand dollars; thenceforth he is
disgusted with work, opens a rum grocery, is utterly debauched, and
people go in his store to find him dead, close beside his rum-cask.

It would take a pen plucked from the wing of the destroying angel and
dipped in blood to describe this lottery business.

A man