hat the vice
of gaming is one which no law can reach so completely as to suppress
_in toto_. Then, if it will exist, disarm it as much as possible of the
power to harm--let it be taxed, and give the exclusive privilege to
game to those who pay the tax and keep houses for the purpose of
gaming. These will effectually suppress it. Everywhere else they are
entitled to the game, and will keep close watch that it runs into no
other net. Let this tax be appropriated to the support of an
institution where, in disease and indigence, its victims may find
support and relief. Make it public, that all may see and know its
_habitues_, and who may feel the reforming influence of public opinion.
For, at last, this is the only power by which the morals of a community
are preserved. Let laws punish crimes--public opinion reform vices.

Larry was a lawmaker, and though he loved a little fun at times, even
at the expense of the law, he was very solicitous as to the health of
the public morals. In several visits at Prado's, he was successful in
plucking some of the hair from the tiger. It was exceedingly pleasant
to have a little pocket-change to evince his liberality socially with
his friends, when it did not trench upon the crop, which was always a
lean one on the sand-plains of St. Helena; for, like the great
Corsican, Larry had a desolate home in St. Helena.

On one occasion, however, he went too close to the varmint, and
returned to his little dirty apartments on the Rue Rampart minus all
his gains, with a heavy instalment from the crop. His wonted spirits
were gone. He moped to the State House, and he sat melancholy in his
seat; he heeded not even the call of the yeas and nays upon important
legislation. Larry was sick at heart, sick in his pocket, and was only
seen to pluck up spirit enough to go to the warrant-clerk, and humbly
insist upon a warrant on the treasurer for a week's pay to meet a
week's board. On Monday, however, he came into the Senate with more
buoyancy of spirit than had been his wont for some days; for Larry was
a senator now, and had under his special charge and guardianship the
people and their morals of three extensive parishes.

The Senate was scarcely organized and the minutes read, when it was
plain Larry meant mischief. The hour for motions had arrived, and Larry
was on his feet: he cleared his throat, and, throwing back his head,
said: "Mr. President, I have a motion in my hand, which I will read to
the