Beadle's Dime Novels No. 126: Old Jupe — page 57: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GAMBLERS. 59 of dress imaginable, made a strange and picturesque: group about the table, flinging away their gold as recklessly as they had earned it easily. The music of the Ethiopian orchestra behind the open railing overhead, mingled with the clink of glasses, the laughter of women, and the curses or jests of men. An occasional quarrel was nipped in the bud by friendly interference. It was a wild, unique, painful scene ot mingled squalor and splendor, of dissipation and excitement, incomprehensible to such as had just arrived from the sober precincts of civilized society, proving conclusively into what man would degenerate if left to the devices of his own heart. Parcell kept his word. He was in luck that night. He not only doubled but quadrupled his three ounces, “ Come away now, Parcell, and I will see you safe home. Some of these hungry eyes may keep track of you, with-all that dust in your pockets,” All this while Luke Bryant had stood by, watching the throng, and waiting for Parcéll to finish his night’s work. What thoughts were in his brain, as he stood aloof, a solitary man, in the midst of this heterogeneous crowd ?—he, who so loved peace and order, and the comforts of a quiet home, who had once enjoyed them, along with the love of a young and beautiful woman, what could he think, what feel, in the midst of scenes like these? It was in vain that he tried to interest himself in their novelty. He had no taste for the wicked- ness, no inclination for the pleasure ; it was not even amus- ing to him as a spectacle. Now, wearied with standing and thinking of the sick woman alone in her wretched shanty, he touched the gambler on the sleeve as he spoke. | “There’s some truth in that, old fellow, and I shan’t re- _ fuse your company. Mrs. Parcell sick you say? Wait a moment, till I see if John’s got a few of those oysters left. If he has, I'll take her some,” and he went off to the bar, pres- ently returning with a can of oysters, for which, doubtless, he paid an extraordinary price. “Dollar apiece, these bivalves were,” he continued, as they started forth into the rain and darkness, their hands on their Weapons, and keepivg, as usual, to the middle of the street, walking perhaps half a mile before they came to the place of Shelter which was called home. connicloooks. com