he devil. Any of them
can throw a Spanish knife through a window, across the street, and into
a man's heart, seated at his table, or fireside; and to-day I heard one
of them say, in French, which he supposed I did not understand, that
this bill was nothing but revenge for money lost; and if revenge was so
sweet, why, he could taste it too. Now, I have lost no money
there--have never been in any of their dens, and he could not mean me."

"Gentlemen, we will adjourn this meeting until to-morrow," said Larry,
"when I will try and have a bill for your inspection." The morrow came,
and the bill came with it, and was reported and referred to the
committee of the whole House. On the ensuing morning, Larry found upon
his desk, in the Senate chamber, the following epistle:

"MR. LARRY MOORE: You have no shame, or I would expose you in the
public prints. You know your only reason for offering a bill to
repeal the law licensing gaming in this city is to be revenged on
the house which won honorably from you a few hundred dollars, most
of which you had, at several sittings, won from the same house.
Now, you have been talked to; still you persist. There is a way to
reach you, and it shall be resorted to, if you do not desist from
the further prosecution of this bill."

The hand in which this epistle was written was cramped and evidently
disguised, to create the impression of earnestness and secrecy. It was
a long time before Larry could spell through it. When he had made it
out, he rose to a question of order and privilege, and sent the
missive to the secretary's desk, to be read to the Senate. During the
reading there was quite a disposition to laugh, on the part of many
senators, who saw in it nothing but a joke.

"What in the h--- do you see in that thar document to laugh at, Mr.
Senators? D--- it, don't you see it is a threat, sirs!--a threat to
'sassinate me? I want to know, by the eternal gods, if a senator in
this house--this here body--is to be threatened in this here way? You
see, Mr. President, that these here gamblers (d--- 'em!) want to rule
the State. Was that what General Jackson fit the battle of New Orleans
for, down yonder in old Chemut's field? I was thar, sir; I risked my
life in that great battle, and I want to tell these d----d scoundrels
that they can't scare me--no, by the Eternal!"

"I must call the senator to order. It is not parliamentary to swear in
debate," said the President of the Se