Beadle's Dime Novels No. 126: Old Jupe — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

THE GAMBLER'S WIFE. G1 the hands of the law, had he been detected in them, he was yet deeply infatuated with the girl le had married. He ad- mired her quick wit, and respected her keen, sarcastic temper, even when its castigations fell wpon himself. He liked her black eyes, her glossy braids and her red cheeks ; but the secret of her power over him lay in the fact that he looked up to her as quite superior to himself in worldly wisdom. It was at her instigation that they had come to California, the preceding spring. As she said, he would be out of the reach of any unpleasant consequences arising from certain acts of his not yet made public; besides which, San Francisco would be the very place, better even than New Orleans, for a person of his profession to do well in. Certainly, a professional gambler would not find himself astray in that curious city. Annette, with her peculiar tem- perament, enjoyed the novelty of this strange life very greatly for a few months. But, the life of a gambler is subject to ups and downs. There came a run of ill-luck, when they had t» leave the Parker house, and take up with a shelter, half canvass, half boards; and where ‘Annette, with all her dislike for exertion, had occasionally to take in washing to purchase the wherewithal to keep herself from suffering. But, she lived in hope. The man who'was penniless one night, might count his hundreds the next. At this time, when we have introduced them to the reader, they were at the low- est ebb of fortune. Parcell had been off to other places, and out among the diggers. He may have made a great deal of money; if so, he had lost it all, and came back as lhe went. .Then the rainy season had sect in, and Annette grew excced- ingly homesick and lonely.. It may be that in these hours she thought of the happy little home of her father on the Mis- souri bluffs, and would have given all she had, or hoped to have, for the privilege of seeing it once again, as it was before misfortune entered it. Or, it may be, that such fancies never troubled her, for when the conscience is once put to sleep, it sometimes slumbers long without awakening. “Why didn’t Bryant come in and stay all night?” she asked, after she had tasted the stew. “It’s dangerous for him to be running about alone at this hour.” “Tasked him, but he wouldn’t. What was he here to-day comicbooks.conn