Gamblers have made money—fortunes—in times past, only to be buried in the potter's field. There are several reasons assignable for this end. Extravagant living appeals to the gambler, and when he has left his own special line of gaming it does not appeal to him strongly as either pastime or means for recouping his fortune. If he turns to gaming at all it is likely to be in fields where he does not know the game. Sometimes he goes to the Board of Trade—sometimes to the stock market. Playing there he is without system and without knowledge of conditions. He is likely to bull the grain market two days after the weather conditions have assured the greatest grain crop in history.
Once a gambler, always a gambler, is his condition; and it is only a matter of time until someone has a game which beats him out.
IT'S UP TO YOU, YOUNG MAN.
There are two trails in life, young man.
One leads to height and fame,
To honor, glory, peace and joy,
And one to depths of shame;
And you can reach that glorious height—
Its honors can be won—
Or you can grope in shame's dark night.
It's up to you, young man.
Stern duty guards the upper trail—
Exact obedience, too—
And he who treads it cannot fail
To win if he be true.
But tickle folly, gay with smiles,
Rules o'er the other one,
And leads to ruin with her wiles.
It's up to you, young man.
At parting of the trails you stand.
At early manhood's gate;
Your future lies in your own hand—
Will it be low or great?
If now you choose the trail of Right.
When you the height have won,
You'll bask in Honor's fadeless light—
It's up to you, young man.
[A HEARTLESS FRAUD.]
SCHOOLS TO TEACH SHOW-CARD WRITING CATCH MANY VICTIMS AMONG THE POOR GIRLS.