This proved to be only masculine hyperbole; for he was married two years after, and appeared, judging by outward signs, one of the most contented and self-satisfied of men.
LOVE BRINGS LUCK.
All this perilous wooing of fortune does not always lead to tragedy. A young man, residing in Frankfort, who had only his salary as a banker’s clerk to live upon, fell in love with a prosperous merchant’s daughter, and his attachment was fully reciprocated. The rich papa, as commonly happens, was unwilling to have a poor son-in-law, and so refused his consent point blank to the union. Entreaties were vain; his daughter’s tears moved him not a whit. He informed the young man that he would give him three years to achieve pecuniary independence in, and if he did not succeed, he must, at the end of that period, abandon all hope of the girl’s hand. In America fortunes are suddenly made; but in Germany, where everything runs in grooves, there is hardly a possibility of earning much money, unaided by capital or powerful influence. For twenty-four months Romeo struggled for his prize, but struggled in vain. He had succeeded in saving only about five hundred dollars; and, knowing this would be considered a contemptible sum by the merchant, he felt that he would be forced to give up all claim to the woman he adored.
Falling asleep, one night, with this subject upon his mind, he dreamed of going to Homburg and increasing his little store tenfold. On awakening, he considered his dream prophetic. He visited Homburg, placed his all upon “color” again and again, and each time “color” won. His five hundred dollars he increased to ten thousand; returned to Frankfort; procured papa’s consent; married the girl, and, as the story goes, has never since been known to risk a florin on a game of chance. So even gambling, great evil as it is, sometimes does good, though instances like this are extremely rare.
A Hungarian merchant from Pesth came to a melancholy end at Baden, a few years ago. He had been to London on business, and on his way home thought he would spend some days at the baths, where a number of his friends were staying. He had scarcely arrived there when he began at rouge-et-noir with a few florins, not having the least intention of playing largely. Like hundreds of others before him, he was drawn into the dangerous rapids before he was well aware of it. He lost not only the money he had with him, but drew on his own firm, obtained advances on his letters of credit, and at the end of a week was absolutely ruined. He had a wife and six children at home, and had not the moral courage to apprise them that they were beggars, to make a resolution never to play more, and commence life anew. Wishing, however, that his fate might be a warning to others, he went late at night to the promenade in front of the Conversationshaus, and when the little town was quiet and asleep, he placed a large placard upon his breast and hanged himself before the main entrance to the beautiful building. The placard, written in French, ran thus:—
A WARNING THAT WAS LOST.
“Here am I, a Victim of Gambling!
Take Warning by me, and never Enter this Hell!
The Man who Plays Damns his Soul Forever!
Don’t Deceive Yourself! Bet Once, and You are Lost!