昔日赌博需要的不仅仅是运气好

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昔日赌博需要的不仅仅是运气好

2010年9月10日

'空气似乎穿透一，刺鼻，我吸灰尘，并引起我的眼睛，聪明，我的喉咙，以烘干和烧伤充满...'

有这么多的新闻最近赌博合法化，它发生在我回来看看，因为赌博在恶劣的日子是 - 之前它是作为一个由省政府摇钱树我们拥抱。这里所描述的场景，当然，并不能反映在今天完成的事情的方式。你要知道，我们似乎已经失去了一些兴奋。

我们的指导时间背戴维W希金斯，记者，作者，出版者，政治家，失望的探矿和短期快递业务员在我们以前见过他的生活丰富多彩回忆在弗雷泽河金矿，后来，在维多利亚。 1904年，他出版了神秘的春天，以及对男性和女性的事件周围的建筑小组形成年写的最有趣的书他的一个最好的一些报刊文章。

这里希金斯（略编辑，因为他无意中改变了整个时态）在1858年9月在耶鲁描述贝内特的轿车难忘的灯塔游戏...

时间已在9日晚上，并在公司与三，四个其他无家可归的年轻人，我发现自己在一个男人和女人站在人群中约1表来观看球员，因为他们“巴克在法鲁”聚集。庄家是一个也许25坏血病的好看的男人。他是有名的海岸上最好的法鲁代理商。而且，作为不小的区别感到自豪，他似乎把谁对他收集了玩世不恭的笑容愚蠢的人，而在他蜡黄，潜伏不动的脸上轻蔑的表达。每个时代的代表是谁的桌子周围，观看与狂热的焦虑或股权上的卡片结果硬币玩。

随着游戏收益的增加，刺激了当局者迷很多，失去了自己的一切，慢慢回落，并渴望别人谁碰碰运气采取空缺。在最新的加入的我的眼睛一个穿着体面的男子约30秋季的前列。他抽着雪茄，似乎把同一个愤世嫉俗无精打采表达的精彩场面。他富裕的外观吸引了专业赌徒，谁，希望他钱，会进入游戏，逐渐回落，并让陌生人以前进到表中，直到他站在前列的关注。另外，在交易中即将和经销商的眼睛像一对新人，谁，在一个虚张声势的精神，在我看来，蜥的固定，地点后，俱乐部王牌10美元的金币。一个矿工站在附近的陌生人另一张卡片上奠定了两个20多岁的时候，结果是众所周知的年轻人赢得了与矿工已经失去了。矿工变成了沮丧的空气和远离自己的位置是由陌生人，谁继续下注采取冷漠与冷静。在第一次赢得他失去稳步增长。不久，他的钱似乎筋疲力尽，因为他没有更多的投注，但仍保留未经兴奋或懊恼至少表明他的位置。目前一胡子矿工推到前面的路上并侧重于第一张牌所吸引他的眼睛4个20。当卡片从盒子里来了，矿工已经赢了。他双打的利害关系，并一次又一次的胜利。该银行的业主几乎掩饰自己的愤怒。他们作出标志，经销商，关闭银行，但他似乎不明白他的期望是什么，并继续交易，而黄金的矿工面前桩增长迅速。

其他表很快就放弃了和群众的事业推向前进观看之间的银行和矿工和内心祈祷决斗，银行可能被打破。必须已在最后一张牌的矿工选择，1000美元，并说也奇怪，他赢了。然后，他开始鹿皮口袋放置在他的奖金，因为他已经宣布，他将没有更多的发挥。旁观者看的幸运的人贪婪的眼睛，他充满他与金彩袋，和几个拍拍他的后背，并祝贺他的好运气了。庄家已关闭的银行和在离开时表行为是透过房间手枪射击环。同时每一个煤油灯熄灭，并在完全黑暗的地方是。一盏灯，在那里我已经观看了比赛桌上放着又被丢到了地板和熄灭。该表是一个底价，然后有崩溃出现恐慌和痛苦的呼声，激烈maledictions和杀人威胁相互交织。我成为一个令人窒息的感觉知道。

空气中似乎有一个精辟刺鼻，我吸灰尘，并导致我的眼睛充满智慧，我的喉咙，以烘干和烧伤。其他似乎同样受到影响，咳嗽和喘气。我尝试摸索我的方式外，但是却发现自己处于困境中的纠缠，喘着气喊人类的质量。这是根据前一分钟，可有一些。终于有人带来了一个灯笼，然后在法鲁经销商和幸运的矿工被视为持有的手向他们的眼睛，而他们狂野和邮票与痛苦，为“求救！在天上的名字，帮助！”

这个事件是平原，最普通的想法。乐队的暴徒合谋抢劫银行。手枪射击是为灯光熄灭，粉碎成经销商和球员的眼中辣椒信号。在黑暗和兴奋的资金被检取，带走，与少数金币倒在地上的例外。该患者的痛苦是可怜的外表，和谁也不收回了他的眼睛充分利用...

阿有人大声哭泣。警方得到通知，而整个人口变成了搜索歹徒，但在电报通信的情况下很少可以这样做。据了解，第二天，一个印第安人的独木舟中坐着4名白人男子天亮前离开了水的前面。这些人被认为是罪魁祸首，但他们得到安全地关闭，没有谁之后由他们派出警员超越....

Gambling in the old days required more than just good luck

September 10, 2010

'The air seems filled with a penetrating, pungent dust which I inhale, and which causes my eyes to smart and my throat to parch and burn...'

With legalized gambling so much in the news recently, it occurred to me to look back at gambling as it was in the bad old days -- before it was embraced as a cash cow by our provincial government. The scenes described here, of course, do not reflect upon the way things are done today. Mind you, we do seem to have lost some of the excitement.

Our guide back through time is David W. Higgins, the journalist, author, publisher, politician, disappointed prospector and short-term express clerk we've met before in his colourful recollections of life in the Fraser River gold fields and, later, in Victoria. In 1904 he published some of his best newspaper articles in The Mystic Spring, one of the most entertaining books written about the men and women and the events surrounding B.C.'s formative years.

Here Higgins (slightly edited as he inadvertently changed tenses throughout) describes a memorable faro game in Bennett's Saloon in Yale in September 1858...

The hour is 9 in the evening, and, in company with three or four other homeless young men, I find myself standing in the midst of a crowd of men and women gathered about a table to watch the players as they "buck" at faro. The dealer is a scorbutic-looking man of perhaps 25. He is reputed the best faro dealer on the Coast. And, being not a little proud of the distinction, he seems to regard the foolish persons who gather about him with a cynical smile, while a contemptuous expression lurks in his sallow, immobile countenance. Every age is represented by those who surround the table to watch the playing with feverish anxiety or to stake a coin on the outcome of a card.

As the game proceeds the excitement increases and many of the gamesters, having lost their all, slowly fall back and others who are anxious to try their fortunes take the vacant places. In the front rank of the latest comers my eyes fall on a respectably dressed man of about 30. He is smoking a cigar and appears to regard the exciting scene with an expression of cynical listlessness. His well-to-do appearance attracts the attention of the professional gamblers, who, in the hope that he has money and will enter the game, gradually fall back and allow the stranger to advance to the table until he stands in the front rank. Another deal from the box is impending and the eyes of the dealer are fixed like those of a basilisk on the newcomer, who, in a spirit of bravado, it seems to me, places a 10-dollar gold piece upon the ace of clubs. A miner standing near the stranger lays two 20s on another card and when the result is known the young man has won and the miner has lost. The miner turns away with a dejected air and his place is taken by the stranger, who continues to wager with cool indifference. After the first winning he loses steadily. Soon his money seems exhausted, for he bets no more, but still retains his place without the least show of excitement or chagrin. Presently a bearded miner pushes his way to the front and lays four 20s on the first card that catches his eye. When the card comes from the box, the miner has won. He doubles the stakes, and again and again wins. The owners of the bank scarcely conceal their anger. They make signs to the dealer to close the bank, but he does not appear to understand what is expected of him and continues to deal, while the pile of gold in front of the miner grows apace.

The other tables are soon abandoned and crowds press forward to watch the duel between the bank and the miner and inwardly to pray that the bank might be broken. There must have been $1,000 on the last card the miner selects, and, strange to say, he wins again. Then he begins to place his winnings in a buckskin sack, for he has announced that he will play no more. The bystanders watch with covetous eyes the fortunate man as he fills his bag with the golden winnings, and several pat him on the back and congratulate him on his good luck. The dealer has closed the bank and is in the act of leaving the table when a pistol shot rings through the room. Simultaneously every coal oil lamp is extinguished and the place is in total darkness. A lamp that stood on the table where I had watched the playing is thrown to the floor and goes out. The table is upset with a crash and then there arise cries of alarm and agony, mingled with fierce maledictions and murderous threats. I become aware of a stifling sensation.

The air seems filled with a penetrating pungent dust which I inhale, and which causes my eyes to smart and my throat to parch and burn. Others seem similarly affected and cough and gasp for breath. I try to grope my way outside, but find myself entangled in a struggling, gasping shouting mass of humanity. It is some minutes before a light can be had. At last someone brings a lantern and then the faro dealer and the lucky miner are seen to hold their hands to their eyes while they rave and stamp with anguish and cry for "Help! In heaven's name, help!"

The affair is plain to the most ordinary mind. A band of ruffians has conspired to rob the bank. The pistol shot was the signal for extinguishing the lights and dashing cayenne pepper into the eyes of the dealer and player. In the darkness and excitement the funds were seized and carried off, with the exception of a few gold pieces that fell to the floor. The anguish of the sufferers was pitiful to behold, and neither ever recovered the full use of his eyes...

A hue and cry was raised. The police were notified and the whole population turned out to search for the miscreants, but in the absence of telegraphic communication little could be done. It was learned the next day that an Indian canoe in which were seated four white men left the water front before daybreak. Those men were believed to be the culprits, but they got safely off and were not overtaken by the constables who were sent after them....