chieve oblivion by dint of their own
thinking power--before we find any class untouched by the strange
taint. Observe that venerable looking man who slowly paces about in
one of the luxurious dwelling-places which are sacred to leisure; you
may see his type at Bath, Buxton, Leamington, Scarborough, Brighton,
Torquay, all places, indeed, whither flock the men whose life-work is
done. That venerable gentleman has fulfilled his task in the world,
his desires have been gratified so far as fortune would allow, and one
would think that most pursuits of the competitive sort must have lost
interest for him. Yet he--even he--cannot get rid of the tendency to
gamble; and he studies the financial news with the eagerness of a boy
who follows the fortunes of Quentin Durward or D'Artagnan or Rebecca.
If English railway shares fall, he is exultant or depressed, according
to the operations of his broker; he may be roused into almost
hysterical delight by a rise in "Nitrates" or "Chilians," or any of
the thousands of securities in which stockbrokers deal. What is it to
the old man if Death smiles gently on him, and will soon touch his
heart with ice? There is no past for him; he has forgotten the
raptures of youth, the strength of manhood, the depression of failure,
the gladness of success, and he drugs his soul into forgetfulness by
dwelling on a gambler's chances. So long as the one doubtful boon of
forgetfulness is secured, it seems to matter very little what may be
the stake at disposal. The English racing-man picks out a promising
colt or filly; he finds that he has a swift and good animal, and he
resolves to bring off some vast gambling _coup_. Patiently, cunningly,
month after month, the steps in the plan are matured; the horse runs
badly until the official handicappers think it is worthless, and the
gambler at last finds that he has some great prize almost at his
mercy. Then with slow dexterity the horse is backed to win. If the
owner shows any eagerness, his purpose is balked once and for all; he
may have to employ half-a-dozen agents to bet for him, until at last
he succeeds in wagering so much money that he will gain, say, one
hundred thousand pounds by winning his race. The fluttering jackets
come nearer and nearer to the judge's box; some of the jockeys are
using their whips and riding desperately; the horse on which so much
depends draws to the front; but the owner never moves a muscle. Of
course we have seen men shrieking