Chapter VI: Front Matter (6)

After the villanous dens in the Palais Royal were rooted out, the proprietors, who found the business much too profitable to be tamely resigned, turned their gaze beyond the Rhine, where a fair field for their exertions in the pursuit of a livelihood presented itself. After many weary negotiations with the several governments, a company of banquiers, with M. Chabert at their head, simultaneously opened their establishments at Baden-Baden, Wisbaden, and Ems. It was a very hard contest between the Regents and the Frenchmen before the terms were finally settled, and they had to expend much money and many promises in getting a footing. But they eventually succeeded, and a few years saw their efforts richly rewarded. As they had a monopoly, they could do pretty much as they pleased, and made very stringent and profitable regulations relative to the "apres" and other methods of gaining a pull. On the retirement of M. Chabert with an immense fortune, the company was dissolved, and M. Benazet became ostensibly sole proprietor of the rooms at Baden-Baden. The terms to which he had to subscribe were sufficient to frighten any one less enterprising than the general of an army of croupiers: he was compelled to expend 150,000 florins in decorating the rooms and embellishing the walks round the town; and an annual sum of 50,000 florins was furthermore demanded, for permission to keep the establishment open for six months in the year. The company, which leased Wisbaden and Ems, was treated much in the same manner, but still they progressed most successfully, till they were frightened from their propriety by Monsieur le Blanc. This gentleman, after struggling against immense opposition on the part of the Frankfort merchants, who were naturally alarmed at the danger to which their "commis" and cash-boxes were exposed by the proximity of a gambling-table, obtained a concession from the Elector of Hessen to establish a bank at Homburg-an-der-Hoehe, which he speedily promulgated to the world, with the additional attraction of being open all the year round, and only a "trente et un apres" for the players to contend against. Some time after, Wilhelmsbad was opened as a rival to Homburg, with no "apres" at all, and the above mentioned, with the addition of Aix-la-Chapelle and Coethen, form the principal establishments where "strangers are taken in and done for" through Germany.

The games universally played are "rouge et noir" and "roulette," the former also denominated "trente et quarante," though both titles insufficiently explain the tendency of the game, especially as "noir" never has any part or parcel in the affair, all being regulated by "rouge" winning or losing. The appointments are simple in the extreme: a long table, covered with green cloth, divided into alternate squares marked with red and black "carreaux," and two divisions for betting on or against the "couleur," three packs of cards, half a dozen croupiers armed with rakes, and a quantity of rouleaus and smaller coin constituting the whole _materiel_. A croupier commences the pleasing game by dealing a quantity of cards till he arrives at any number above thirty (court-cards counting as ten), when he begins a second row, the first representing "noir," the other "rouge." The "couleur" is determined by the first card turned up. The two great pulls in favor of the bank are, first, the "apres"--that is, when the two rows amount to the same number, and the croupier calls out, "Et trente trois," or any other number "apres,"--the stakes are impounded, and can only be released by paying half the money down, or else by the same color winning; and secondly--the chief thing--_the bank never loses its temper_. As a martingale, or continual doubling of the stakes after losing, would infallibly cause a player to win in the end, there is a law in force that no stake can exceed three hundred louis-d'or without the permission of the banque: a permission it very rarely grants, except in extreme cases, as for instance, at Homburg, when the Belgians so nearly broke the bank; but then it was "conquer or die." The lowest amount allowed to be staked is a two florin piece. The expression, "V'la banque!" which we so frequently hear quoted, has its origin from this game. After a player has passed, that is, won, on the same color two or three times consecutively, the croupier, to prevent any possible dispute, asks whether he wishes to risk the whole of the money down; if he intends to do so he employs the above cabalistic formula.

Roulette is a very much more complicated affair; for this, a table is required with a basin in the centre, containing a spiral tube with an orifice at the top, through which the ball passes, and falls into one of the thirty-eight holes in the basin, which are respectively marked with figures, and alternately painted red and black. There are four projecting pieces of iron, one of which the croupier twirls, crying, "Faites votre jeu, messieurs;" when he says, "Le jeu est fait, rien n'va plus," no more money can be put down. In the middle of the table are the numbers, from one to thirty-six, going regularly downwards, in three rows, while at the head of them are the two "zeros"--rouge single and noir double. On either side of the numbers are three divisions; on one hand, marked "rouge, impair et passe," on the other, "noir, pair et manque." Besides these, there are three compartments at the end of the columns, for the purpose of backing the numbers contained in the column; and three others on each side of the numbers, in which to bet on the first, second, or third series of twelve. The odds are regulated in the following fashion. If a player back a single number, he receives thirty-five times the amount of his stake, in the event of its coming up; if he back three at once, he only gets eleven times; if six, only five times the amount. For either of the other compartments he receives, if he gain, the simple amount of his stake, with the exception of the divisions at the end of the columns, and the series of twelve, when he receives double if he win, as the odds are two to one against him. The banque has a most iniquitous advantage in the two zeros, which are calculated to recur once in nineteen times; if the single rouge turn up, they sack all the money, except that placed on the red; if double zero, they take all.

The amount of the stakes at roulette is limited to two hundred louis d'or on a color, and six on a single number; the lowest stake allowed is a florin. Though it may be supposed that a run at "trente et quarante" would be a much more likely occurrence than at roulette--and, indeed, we can remember at the former game the "noir" passing two-and-twenty times, though no one had the courage to take advantage of such an extraordinary circumstance--yet it is a very frequent thing at roulette for the ball to have a predilection for a certain series of numbers--probably through the croupier twisting the machine with the same force each time--and on such occasions a good deal of money may be won by a careful observer. One young Englishman, who was perfectly ignorant of the game, we saw at Wisbaden place a five-franc piece on the last series of twelve, and he left his money down six times, winning double the amount of his stake every turn. He then discovered the money was his, by the croupier asking him if he wished to stand on the whole sum; but he never gave the banque another chance, for he picked it up, and quickly went off with it.

Every player at roulette seems to have a different system: some powder the numbers with florins or five-franc pieces, in the hope of one coming up out of them; others speculate merely on the rouge or noir. One Spaniard at Ems, we remember, made a very comfortable living at it by a method of playing he had invented. He placed three louis-d'or on the manque, which contains all the numbers to eighteen, and two louis on the last series of twelve; that is, from twenty-four to thirty-six. Thus he had only six numbers and two zeros against him. If manque gained, he won three louis and lost two; if a number in the last twelve came up, he won four and lost three; but a continuation of zeros would have ruined his calculation. Some, again, back the run, others play against it; a very favorite scheme, and one generally successful, being to bet against a color after it has passed three times; but then, again, there is no law on the subject, and a man may lose heavily in spite of the utmost caution. In short, the best plan by far would be, if play one must, to stick to "rouge et noir," which bears some semblance of fairness.

The _habitues_ of the rooms are well known to the croupiers. At Baden-Baden we had for many years the old ex-Elector of Hesse, who made his money by selling his soldiers to England at so much a head, like cattle, during the American war, and who was easily to be recognized by the gold-headed and coroneted rake he always had in his hand. He was, indeed, a most profitable customer to Monsieur Benazet. But, alas! the superior attractions of Homburg led him away, and we never saw him again in Baden; the revolution of 1848 frightened, or angered, him to death. Wisbaden boasts of a banker from Amsterdam, who usually plays on credit--that is to say, he pockets his winnings, but, if he loses, borrows money of the banquier, squaring his account, which is generally a heavy one, at the end of the week: and an English baronet, who always brings a lozenge box with him, which, when he has filled, he retires with; and this he frequently contrives to accomplish, for he possesses his own luck and that of some one else in the bargain. Ems is the principal resort of Russians, who play fearfully high, and a good deal of private gambling is done there on the quiet; while Aix-la-Chapelle appears only destined as a trap for incautious travellers, many of whom, in consequence, never see the Rhine, and return to England with very misty ideas about Germany.

Aix-la-Chapelle will never be erased from our memory, on account of a most ludicrous scene which happened on our first visit to Germany. Being unacquainted with German at the time, and our French being of the sort which Chaucer calls "French of Bow," we had selected one of our party, who boasted of his knowledge of most foreign tongues, and installed himself as "Dolmetscher." His first experiment was in ordering supper, which he proceeded to do in something he was pleased to call German.

"Plait-il, M'nsieu?" said the waiter.

The order was repeated.

"Would you have the kindness to spik Angleesh?" remarked the garcon.

Though this raised some doubts in our minds as to our friend's capacity, yet one of our party, feeling indisposed, invoked his intercession for the sake of procuring some Seidlitz powders. However, in his indignation, he refused to have any thing to do with it. In this dilemma, the sick man called in the English-conversing waiter to his aid, who readily offered to help him, and soon returned with a bottle of Seidlitz _water_, which he persuaded our unwary friend to make trial of. Now this water happens to be the strongest of all the mineral springs in Germany, and the consequence was, the poor young man became very shortly alarmingly unwell. In his anxiety, he fancied himself poisoned, and summoned the waiter once more. On his reappearance, he compelled him to finish the whole of the bottle, which contained nearly a quart, to prove it was not of a dangerous nature; but, in point of fact, it proved to be so, by nearly killing the wretched garcon.

The company to be seen round the table consists usually of Russians and French, both male and female, with a sprinkling of Germans, who escape from their own police in order to satisfy their itching for play. Thus, for instance, we have Nassau and Darmstadt people at Baden-Baden, while the Badese and Suabese rush to Homburg and Wisbaden. There is a very salutary law in every land where gambling is permitted, that no inhabitant of that land be allowed to play at the public table, and if any one is caught red-handed, he is usually imprisoned, and his winnings, if any, confiscated. We can call to mind a laughable instance of this at Wisbaden. Two old peasants, who had probably come for a day's pleasure and to see the sights, managed to find their way into the Kursaal, and stood all entranced before the roulette-table. One of them, imagining it a right royal way of making money, and much better fun than ploughing, lugged out his leathern purse, and began by staking a modest florin on the rouge. In the course of about half an hour he had contrived to win a very decent sum, and was walking away in great glee, when a gendarme, who had been watching him all the while, quietly collared him and dragged him off to the Polizei, where, as we afterwards learned, he was incarcerated for three weeks, and his "addlings" employed for the good of the state.

It may naturally be supposed that the presence of so much circulating medium in one place, and the _prestige_ attaching to the banquier's coffers, which are currently supposed to contain a sum

More precious far
Than that accumulated store of wealth
And orient gems, which, for a day of need,
The sultan hides in his ancestral tombs,

would induce many depredators to make an attempt on them, but we generally find that cunning is much more in favor than any open attack. Thus, for instance, Monsieur le Blanc, who, we may add, has been more assailed than any other banquier, was nearly made the victim of a stratagem, which might have entailed serious results. A fellow contrived to get into the "Conversation Haus" by night, and blocked up all the low numbers in the roulette machine in such a manner that the ball, on falling in, must inevitably leap out again. On the next day he and his accomplices played, and netted a large sum by backing the high numbers. They carried on the game for two or three days, but were fortunately overheard by a detective while quarrelling about the division of their plunder, in the gardens behind the establishment. They were arrested, and the money recovered. A very dangerous design was also formed against him by one of his croupiers, who, being discontented with his lot, determined to make his fortune at one _coup_: and the plan he contrived was this. He procured a pack of pre-arranged cards, which he concealed in his hat, and when it came to his turn to deal, he intended to drop the bank cards into his _chapeau_ and cleverly substitute the others; but this artfully-concocted scheme was disconcerted, by one of his confederates considering he might make a better and safer thing of it by telling Le Blanc beforehand. His most imminent peril, and the occasion when his very existence as a banquier was at stake, was the affair with the Belgian company, of which Thackeray has given us a detailed account in his "Kickleburys up the Rhine."

The "proprietaires," besides, suffer considerable losses by the dishonesty of the croupiers; for, although there is a person expressly employed to watch them, who sits in a high-backed chair behind the dealer, yet they are such practised escamoteurs, that they will secrete a piece of gold without his seeing it. One fellow was detected at Baden-Baden, who had carried on a system of plunder for a long time with security. He used to slip a louis-d'or into his snuff-box whenever it came to his turn to preside over the money department; he was found out by another _employe_ asking him casually for a pinch of snuff, and seeing the money gleam in the gaslight. These croupiers are the most extraordinary race of men it is possible to conceive. They seem to unite the stoicism of the American Indian to the politeness of the Frenchman of the _ancien regime_. They are never seen to smile, and wear the same impassive countenance whether the banque is gaining or losing. In fact, what do they care as long as their salary is regularly paid? They seem to fear neither God nor man: for when a shock of the earthquake was felt at Wisbaden, in 1847, though all the company fled in terror, they remained grimly at their posts, preferring to go down to their patron saints with their rouleaux, as an evidence of their fidelity to their employer. Perhaps, though, they regarded the earthquake as a preconcerted scheme to rob the banque, the only danger they are apprehensive of. You may beat them, and yet they smite not again; for when a young Englishman, bearing an honorable name, vented his rage at losing by breaking a rake at Baden-Baden over the croupier's head, he merely turned round and beckoned to the attendant gendarme to remove him and the pieces, and then went on with his parrot-like "rouge gagne--couleur perd."

The most amusing thing to any philosophical frequenter of the rooms, is to see the sudden gyrations of fortune's wheel. One gentleman at Baden-Baden, a Russian, was so elated after an unparalleled run of good fortune, that he went out and ordered a glorious feed for himself and friends at the restauration; but during the interval, while dinner was preparing, he thought he would go back and win a little more. His good fortune, however, had deserted him, and he lost not only all his winnings, but every florin he was possessed of, so he was compelled to countermand the dinner. On the arrival of his remittances, determined not to be balked of his repast this time by want of funds, he paid for a spread for twelve beforehand; but his luck was very bad, and he actually went back to the restaurateur, and, after some negotiation, sold him back the dinner at half-price. The money he received was, of course, very speedily lost. Another, a student of Heidelberg, won at a sitting 970 florins, but disdaining to retire without a round thousand, he tempted fortune too long, and lost it all back, as well as his own money. The most absurd thing was, that not having any friends in Baden, he was driven to return "per pedes" to his university, a distance of more than one hundred miles. It is a very rare occurrence for the bank to be broken, though the newspapers state that such a thing happened three times at Baden-Baden during the present season,--a statement which we are inclined to place in the same category with the wonderful showers of frogs and gigantic cabbages which happen so opportunely to fill any vacant corner. When, however, it really takes place, the rooms are only closed for an hour or two, and the play soon commences again.

The most painful incident is, the frequency of suicides during the season, any account of which Monsieur Benazet, for obvious reasons, prevents reaching the public. When any thing of the sort occurs, the place most commonly selected for the tragedy is a summer-house a little way out of the town, on the road to the Alt Schloss, whence the poor victim can take a last lingering look on the scene of his ruin. One young man, in our time, attempted to blow out his brains at the roulette-table, but was fortunately prevented, and a fortnight's detention in the House of Correction very much cooled his ardor for making a "dem'd disgusting body" of himself. Indeed, it has ever been a passion with your Frenchmen to cause a scene when dying: they would not give a "thank you" to cut their throats in private.

On the 31st of October, the day on which the rooms close for the season, an immense quantity of players throng to the Kursaal; for though they have withstood temptation for so long a time, they cannot possibly suffer the season to go past without making one trial. On the 1st of November, those birds of ill-omen, the croupiers, set out to hybernize in Paris, and the rooms are closed, not to be reopened till the 1st of May.

It has long been a question most difficult of decision whether, leaving morality entirely out of sight, the watering-places of Germany are benefited or injured by the continuance of gambling. We are inclined to the latter opinion; for, though it may be said that it brings a deal of money into circulation, yet your true gambler is a most unsocial and inhospitable fellow, and one of the worst visitors an hotel-keeper can have. Besides encouraging, as they do, all the riffraff of Europe to pay periodical visits to Germany, they thereby prevent many respectable persons from settling in that country; for any wife or mother who has the interests of her family at heart, would fly from a place where gambling is allowed, as from a pest-house. At the same time, a very lax tone prevails in these towns, and every finer feeling is blunted--in many cases irreparably--by constant association with hard-hearted, callous, and unscrupulous gamblers. That this was a view taken by the more enlightened of the Germans, is proved by the fact that the parliament of Frankfort decided on the abolition of all gambling-houses by a considerable majority, but unfortunately there was no time to carry such a salutary measure into effect. Had it been otherwise, the Regents in all probability would, through very shame, have hesitated in giving their assent to the re-establishment of such a crying evil.

From Fraser's Magazine.

AN ELECTION ROW IN NEW-YORK.

BY C. ASTOR BRISTED.

An election in England is a very exciting affair; in America, from its frequency, it becomes a mere matter of every-day business. Almost every citizen has the opportunity of voting twice a year, and elections are continually going on in some part or other of the country, so that they form a standard topic of conversation, much as the weather does in England. No wonder, then, that they usually fail to awaken any great or general interest.

But to this rule there are important exceptions. A presidential[3] or a congressional campaign sometimes involves the fate of most important measures of policy, and creates a corresponding excitement. At such periods, the country is flooded with "extra" newspapers and political lecturers, the walls groan with placards, bar-room politicians talk themselves hoarse, and steamboat passengers amuse themselves with holding meetings and sham-balloting for the respective candidates. Still the enthusiasm of the parties generally spends itself in words; they seldom come into actual personal collision. Even in the West, there are not _more_ rows on election days than at other times. But here again we have a notorious exception in the case of New-York. Many thousands of the "finest pisantry" have located themselves in that city, and they have not lost an iota of their belligerent propensities, affording a beautiful illustration of _coelum non animum_, &c. Entirely under the influence of their priests, they are almost invariably to be found on the agrarian side, and are ready at any time to attack a whig (conservative) meeting, storm the polls, or engage in any other act of violence to which their wily leaders may prompt them.

In the spring of 1840, the Whigs of the State of New York (the _city_ still inclined the other way) had been in power nearly two years, with a decided majority in both houses of the legislature, and a governor who "went the entire animal" with them. Washington Irving says that the best men of a party propose to themselves three ends: first, to get their opponents out; secondly, to get themselves in; thirdly, to do some good to the country; but the majority are satisfied with attaining the first two objects. Now the Whigs had accomplished these as thoroughly as they could have desired, and had made such use of their victory as to put it out of the power of any one to charge them with being worse than infidels. They, therefore, like good patriots, set about the third proposed point, and their first step was to take some measures for improving the election laws, so far as concerned the city of New-York. That city had more than 300,000 inhabitants,[4] at least 26,000 voters, and no registry law whatever. The consequence may be easily imagined. If a man chose to take the responsibility of perjuring himself, he could always pass a false vote, and was frequently able to do it without that unpleasant necessity. To prove _residence_, it was only requisite to have slept the previous night in the ward where he voted; this gave rise to an extensive system of colonization just before the election. In short, it was evident that the ballot _alone_ would not secure a fair vote, while the experience of Philadelphia showed that _with a good system of registry_ it answered every required purpose. A registry law was accordingly reported and read the first time.

Great was the wrath of the Loco-Focos[5] when they found this measure on the _tapis_. The strength of the two parties in the city was very nearly balanced, the mercantile influence of the Whigs, and the papist influence of the Locos, being about a match for each other. Indeed, the same side seldom carried its candidates for mayor and aldermen more than two years successively. But the Locos had good reason to fear that a strict registry law would knock on the head nearly a thousand of their voters, without making corresponding havoc in the Whig ranks. They were therefore naturally anxious to prevent, if possible, the passage of this law; every effort was put forth to make it appear unpopular, by calling meetings, and getting up petitions against it.

Most of the Whigs cared nothing for this; but some men, whose good feeling outran their discretion, and who had the fatuity to suppose that Loco-Focos were capable of being influenced by reason, called a meeting (it was about a week previous to the charter election) "of citizens, without distinction of party," to express their approval of the registry law. Such calls, emanating professedly from neutrals, but really from partisans, are not uncommon; and the result of them usually is, that the speakers meet with no opposition, and the resolutions are carried unanimously; none of the other party, except perhaps, a reporter or two, attending. But on the present occasion, the opponents of the measure were determined that its friends should _not_ have it all their own way; so some thirty or forty of the Locos attended, and did their best to impede the proceedings. First, they objected to the gentleman proposed for chairman; then they interrupted the speakers; and, finally, kicked up such a row as effectually to drown the voice of the secretary, who was trying to read the first resolution offered.

Now of all the offences against good manners that can be committed in America, disturbing the harmony of a public meeting is about the most flagrant. It may be supposed, then, that the conduct of these intruders excited no small indignation on the part of the majority. There were not enough constables present to eject them, so the "citizens, without distinction of party," took the law into their own hands; such Whigs as were nearest incontinently laid hands on the rioters, and "passed them out."

Reader, have you a clear idea of what this "passing out" is? I believe the operation is occasionally practised in England, at theatres and other places of public resort, when young gentlemen have got elevated, and won't behave themselves. But, lest you should not be familiar with it, I will endeavor to give you as much as I remember of a description by one of our authors,[6] of the style in which the thing is managed. The occasion represented is a public dinner, given to the Honorable Mr. So-and-So, by his admirers; and the victim, a too daring-dun, who has spoiled a fine period of the orator's--"If, fellow-citizens, I should be doomed to retirement, I shall at least carry with me the proud conviction that I have always acted as becomes an honest man,"--by impertinently suggesting that "his small account for groceries has been running four years."

"This was too much for the admirers of the honorable gentleman. 'Turn him out!' 'Throw him over!' 'Hustle him out!'

"Pass him down!!

"Now when it is remembered that the unhappy man had established himself at the very upper end of the room, in which five hundred of his fellow-creatures were packed like damaged goods, it will be easily imagined what a pleasant prospect he had before him.

"An assemblage of human beings has often been compared to a sea. Dreadful, indeed, poor Muzzy, was the ocean on which thou wert doomed to embark.

"PASS HIM DOWN!

"The call was answered by the elevation of Mr. Muzzy six feet in the air. From this altitude he was let down into a vortex of strong-handed fellows, who whirled him about horribly, and then transmitted him to a more equable current, which pitched him forward at a steady rate towards the door. Sometimes he landed among a party of quiet elderly gentlemen over their wine, and the torrent seemed to be lulled; then again it would return upon him with renewed violence, and bear him helplessly along. At last he was caught up by two mighty billows in the shape of a master butcher and baker, and impelled with fearful velocity through the narrow straits of the door. On recovering his senses sufficiently to take an observation, he found himself stranded keel uppermost, in the gutter, with his rigging considerably damaged, and his timbers somewhat shaken."

Such was the discipline to which the obstreperous Locos were subjected, and neither their general disposition, nor their particular temper of mind at the time, was such as to induce them to bear the infliction with Christian resignation. Accordingly, they repaired in a body to the head-quarters of their party (at Tammany Hall, about half a mile distant), and there reported the indignity they had suffered. The thing was not to be endured, and steps were instantly taken to exact a terrible retribution. The more belligerent of the Locos had formed themselves into various associations for purposes of offence, rejoicing in the classic names of "Spartans," "Ring-tailed Roarers," "Huge Paws," and "Butt-enders." Some two hundred of this last body chanced to be in attendance, all armed with bludgeons, and they instantly started off to make an assault upon the Masonic Hall, where the friends of the registry law were assembled. The surprise bid fair to be a complete one, and so doubtless it would have been, but for a circumstance, to explain which it will be necessary for us to go back to the morning of this eventful day.

Bill Travis, as his friends familiarly called him--or W. Thompson Travis, Esq., as his tradesmen used to address him on the back of their frequently-sent-in and occasionally-paid bills--was a senior at Columbia College; not precisely the first of his class in Latin and Greek, but decidedly the best waltzer and billiard-player in it, and _the_ exquisite, _par excellence_, of his juvenile contemporaries. He never went down Broadway, even to go to College, without light French kids and a gold-headed cane; and his stock of enamelled chains, opal studs, diamond pins, and the like vanities, would nearly have fitted up a bride's _corbeille_. To see him fully got up--polished boots, palm-leaf waistcoat, gorgeous cravat, and all--mincing over the gutter, you would take him for a regular man-milliner, and say that the greatest exertion he was capable of, would be holding a trotter, and that only with the aid of a pair of pulleys. But scrutinize him more closely, and you would see that, for all his slim waist and delicate extremities, he had a good full natural chest of his own, and powerful limbs. Put him into action, and you would find that he could hit straight from the shoulder, and "split himself well," as the French phrase it, when he gave point, or went back in guard. He was, in fact, a crack boxer, fencer, and gymnast. Pugilism was the fashion with the young bloods of Gotham at that time, especially such of them as had any tendency to politics: and among these boys of nineteen, there were not a few who would have tackled a fancy man in his prime, and at no great odds either, their great agility making up for their want of downright strength. Travis's friend and senior by one year, George Purcell (who afterwards served with credit as a volunteer in the Mexican war, and ultimately became a judge in California), had on one occasion, when threatened with the vengeance of a stalwart Bowery boy, sought out the democratic champion in the very midst of his personal and political friends, and challenged him to single combat; which challenge being promptly accepted, he polished off the young butcher in good style and short order--the other b'hoys, with that love of fair play which honorably distinguishes the Anglo-Saxon race all over the world, remaining impartial spectators of the fight. Travis had never equalled this feat, but he _had_ seen a good deal of low life and hard knocks on the sly, proper and fashionable as he always appeared in public by daylight.

Now, on the morning of this very day, as we were saying, Travis, while lounging up Broadway, suddenly encountered a youth of about his own age, but a very different style and type. He was short and thickset, swaggering, and almost sailor-like in his gait, and wore the usual dress of the American snob playing gentleman--that is to say, a black dress-coat and trousers, and a black satin vest. His ungloved right hand sustained a walking-stick, which might, on a pinch, have done duty as a bed-post; his left was buried in his trousers' pocket.

It was Travis's cousin, Lefferts Lloyd. Half Knickerbocker, half Welsh in his extraction, he descended directly from some of the oldest settlers of the island, and by rights, his should have been the fashionable, and the Travises (who were altogether _novi homines_) the unfashionable branch of the family. But fortune, or the taste of the Lloyds themselves, had willed it otherwise; with equal means, they resided in a region east of the Bowery, well nigh _terra incognita_ to the set in which the Travises moved. Lefferts himself was very much one of the people; he eschewed all vanities of patent leather and kid gloves, preferred ten-pins to billiards, and running after a fire-engine to waltzing. The cousins, who had been at school together, were on very amicable terms with each other, but their tastes and pursuits not exactly coinciding, they seldom met except for a few minutes in the street, or a few days at a watering-place.

"By Jove! Lefferts, that's a delicate cane of yours," said Travis, glancing from the other's stupendous bludgeon to his own gold-headed Malacca, which, as he would have expressed it himself, had knocked a big hole in a fifty dollar bill. "Preparing for the meeting to-night, you see," answered Lloyd, with a significant waggle of the big stick, that would have gladdened an Irishman's heart. Nothing more was said on the subject, and they separated, after a few trivial remarks; but Travis took good heed of the allusion, which he seemed not to notice at the time. On the look-out for mischief, he set himself to reconnoitre that evening in the vicinity of Tammany Hall, fearless of detection, for no one could have recognized the Broadway exquisite in his assumed garb. His upper garment was an old great coat razeed into a frock; his feet were cased in heavy fireman's boots, which, with their impermeable uppers and ponderous soles, were equally serviceable for keeping out snow-water and kicking niggers' shins; his head was protected by a stout leather cap, and in his hand he carried a hickory, not so ponderous as Lloyd's stick, but none the less capable of doing worthy execution in a row. Seeing the Butt-enders proceed up Broadway in a body, he at once suspected that the Masonic Hall was the object of their attack, and accordingly put on all his disposable quantity of steam, that their coming might not be unannounced. There was no time for ceremonious entry, or oratorical delivery, but bursting impetuously into the room, he informed his friends in straightforward terms that the enemy were at hand in great force. The Whigs were somewhat taken aback, most of them being unarmed; but it was not an occasion to stand upon trifles. _Furor arma ministrat_; the meeting was broken up into a committee of the whole, and the benches into their component timbers, the fragments of which were distributed among the company, while a long plank, under the particular supervision of Travis himself, was suspended over the banisters, so as to sweep the staircase.

Hardly were these preparations completed, when the hall below was flooded with the advancing Loco-Focos. Stealthily but swiftly they advanced, little dreaming of the reception that awaited them. The staircase was certainly a very defensible position; it was not wide, and made a sharp bend near the top, so that the assailants could not see the danger that threatened them. The foremost pressed eagerly up-stairs, and just as they arrived at this turn, their leader could no longer contain himself. "Now, boys," he exclaimed, with a flourish of his bludgeon, "we'll give the Whigs their gruel!"

"_No you don't!_"

And as Travis spoke, slam-bang came the big plank above mentioned, which shot out with startling suddenness, and worked with commendable dexterity, made a clean sweep of the whole first column. The leader and five or six more were hurled bodily into the air, and tumbled upon the heads of their followers, while fifteen or twenty others were pitched down the upper flight of ten steps. The mass on the main staircase below recoiled with the shock, and as those in the hall still pressed onward, a dense body was wedged together in woful confusion. "Tippecanoe and Tyler too!" shouted Travis, and the Whigs poured forth from the room, and mustered thickly at the head of the staircase, exulting in the disaster of their opponents, while the end of the plank, which had been reset for action, peered over the banisters, as if saying, "Come on, if you dare!"

The foremost enemies were evidently unwilling to encounter this formidable engine of defence, but the pressure from behind drove them forward. Their first leader was _hors du combat_, and they were now headed by a young man of tolerably respectable appearance, clearly not one of the regular Butt-enders. "Let go!" cried Travis, and the primitive ram was again shot forward, but not with equal success. Several of the Locos were knocked down, but others threw themselves desperately on the plank, and their general, by a dexterous movement, placed himself within it. Travis recognized his cousin Lloyd! It was a fine bit of romance, but there was no time to fabricate reflections corresponding, for even as he made the discovery, the amateur Spartan was springing up the stairs, and the man who had been most active in managing the plank went down before his hickory. The fallen Whig upset the board with him, and it lay upon the stairs, useless as a weapon, but still impeding the enemy's advance. At the same moment, a stalwart Irishman, who had climbed up the banisters, levelled his shillelah at Travis's head; but our friend anticipated the blow by giving Pat point in the breast with such strength and dexterity, that he tumbled helplessly into the mass beneath, causing much inconvenience and more panic. This done, Travis darted at his relative, who was knocking down the Whigs right and left, and had nearly gained a footing on the landing-place. Both were adepts in single-stick practice, and the contest bid fair to be of long duration; but they were not to have it all to themselves, for as other Loco-Focos gained the top of the stairs, the _melee_ became general. It would require the pen of an Irving or a Fielding to do full justice to the scene. Black eyes, bloody noses, and broken heads were lavishly distributed in all directions; Irish yells and Tippecanoe war-cries swelled the uproar; while from the front windows of the room within some elderly gentlemen kept insanely crying "Watch!"

The Whigs had greatly the advantage over their opponents in point of position and numbers, but the assailants were more practised belligerents, and provided with better weapons. Moreover, many friends of the registry law had as yet taken no part in the affray, vainly hoping that the city authorities (at that time Loco-Focos) would interfere. Inch by inch the Butt-enders fought their way forward. The Whigs were visibly giving ground. A panic seized their ranks, and those who were still in the room began to look about them for means of escape. There was a small back-window, with a shed five or six feet below it, whence the ground could be reached by a ladder. Out of this window dropped, and down this ladder rattled the president, vice-presidents, secretaries, and, in short, the most quiet and respectable men of the meeting. Their exit was as undignified as their entry had been pompous. At length the shed, being rather ancient, gave way under the weight of a very fat man, who was snugly deposited in a pigsty beneath, so that hope was cut off.

The Whigs now became desperate: they saw that they must fight in earnest, and advanced to a man. The Butt-enders were stopped in their advance. Both parties wavered. Travis perceived that the decisive blow was now to be struck. Closing up to Lloyd, he came down on him "with an awk stroke," as the old romancers say, that fairly broke down his guard, and beat him back upon three or four of his followers, who all went over together. The Whigs raised a shout, made a rush forward, and by sheer weight hurled the Butt-enders down the staircase. After them poured the victors, with Travis at their head. The Irish shillelahs were nothing before his hickory: he knocked down or disabled a man at every blow. Still the Locos made a vigorous attempt to rally in the lower entry, but at that moment a reinforcement arrived for the Whigs, which completed their defeat. A band of _Unionists_ (a Whig association formed in opposition to the Butt-enders) had been parading the streets with music and banners, and they now arrived in time to fall furiously on the rear of their antagonists. The Loco-Focos, thus hemmed in between two fires, were gloriously pommelled for about five minutes. At length, with a desperate charge, they broke through the Unionists, and fled precipitately down Broadway, while the band accompanied their retreat with the complimentary air of the "Rogue's March."

The victors re-assembled in the big room, somewhat diminished in numbers (even after the accession of the Unionists) and dilapidated in attire. Travis, who had been foremost throughout the whole row, bore especial marks of it on his person. His coat was slit down the back, and _minus_ several buttons in front; his cravat utterly missing, and his shirt, so much of it as was visible, might possibly have made patches for a rifle, but was of no particular value as an article of dress. But such little incidents only served to increase the general hilarity of triumph. The meeting was reconstructed, the resolutions passed, and they wound off with a Harrison song--in fact, with two or three. It was near midnight before the walls of the Masonic Hall ceased to echo to such strains as these:--

To turn out the administration
Is the very best thing we can do;
'Twill be for the good of the nation
To put in old Tippecanoe.

_Chorus all._

Hurrah for old Tippecanoe--oo--oo!
Hurrah for old Tippecanoe!
'Twill be for the good of the nation
To put in old Tippecanoe!

Notwithstanding the very demonstrative character of the row, no lives were lost or bones broken. Even Lloyd, though sadly trodden on by both parties after his fall, sustained no serious injury, nor did the combat of the cousins give rise to any permanent difficulty between them. The registry law was passed some weeks after, to the great disgust of the Loco-Focos, eight or nine hundred of whose voters were thereby placed on the list of unavailables.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] It is a mistake to suppose that the presidential election is _always_ attended with great excitement. Monroe literally walked over the course for his second term. Martin Van Buren's election passed off very quietly; and General Taylor's, being taken almost as a matter of course, was accompanied by no extraordinary demonstrations.

[4] Now more than 600,000.

[5] This _sobriquet_, at first applied to a small fraction of the New-York democrats, which fraction afterwards absorbed the whole party, had its origin in the following incident: A quarrel occurring at Tammany Hall (the head-quarters of the democracy), the majority moved an adjournment, and, to make sure of it, put out the lights. The recusants, in anticipation of some such step, had provided themselves with _lucifer matches_, and, by their aid, re-lit the lamps, and continued the meeting. Lucifers were then called loco-focos--why, no one knows; the name was probably invented by some imaginative popular manufacturer of the article; and the appellation of _Loco-Foco party_ was proposed in derision, for this small band of seceders; who, however, in time, brought over the original majority to their views. Hence the Whigs continued to apply the contemptuous designation to the whole democratic or radical party.

[6] Cornelius Matthews, to whom this quotation from memory may possibly do injustice, but the work in which it occurs is now out of print.

From Bentley's Miscellany.

THE JEWISH HEROINE: A STORY OF TANGIER.[7]

In the latter part of the year 1834, there resided in Tangier a Jew, Haim Hachuel, who employed himself, as well as his wife, Simla, in commercial pursuits. They had two children; the eldest, Ysajar, followed the trade of his father; the second was a daughter, Sol, who had just completed her seventeenth year, and whose rare and surpassing beauty was the admiration of all who saw her. Though Fortune lavished not her smiles on Haim Hachuel, he lacked not the means of living in comfort with his small family, by his own and Simla's unassisted efforts, the latter taking charge not only of the education of her daughter, but of the whole management of the domestic affairs, and even the common work of the house. The careful mother, however, provided that her daughter's employments should be limited as much as possible to household cares, so that the entire arrangement of them gradually devolved on the fair Sol as she grew up.

In the earlier years of the young Jewess's life, she submitted passively enough to the restraint imposed upon her by her mother, and was almost always to be found busied in the toils suited to her sex; but as she advanced towards womanhood, the tastes and passions natural to her age began to develope themselves, and the lovely Sol, becoming conscious of the many charms with which Nature had endowed her, chafed at the rigor of her seclusion. Her mother, hitherto her chief and only friend, now deemed it prudent to assume towards the young maiden a severity of demeanor, which so exasperated her, that, not finding within her home those innocent recreations suitable to her age, and which her heart so greatly desired, she was tempted to seek abroad for sympathy and participation in her griefs.

Near the dwelling of Hachuel lived a Moorish woman, by name Tahra Mesmudi. With this person the young Jewess formed an acquaintance, which soon grew into friendship. Her mother occasionally gave her permission to visit her; and on these occasions she would spend the time in relating domestic occurrences,--and at other times, eluding her mother's vigilant eye, she would slip out of the house to impart her sorrows to Tahra, and receive her sympathy. Simla endeavored on more than one occasion to check the growing intimacy of the young girl with their Mahometan neighbor; but, little able to foresee its deplorable results, and secure in her daughter's confidence, she was unwilling to deprive her altogether of this slight indulgence. In this state, therefore, things remained for awhile, Sol taking a reluctant part in the labors allotted to her by her mother, and but rarely appearing in the streets, though when she did so, her surpassing charms gained her the homage of crowds of admirers, who thought themselves happy in obtaining even a passing sight of this prodigy of Nature's work, usually secluded from all eyes but those of the proud and happy authors of her existence. But, however the high spirit of the enchanting Sol rebelled against her fate, deeply and violently as she resented her bondage, no murmur ever escaped her lips, and her false neighbor was the only confidant of her sorrow; and already (so various are the disguises of seeming friendship) even now did Tahra meditate a project destined to be the ruin of the fair Jewess.

Amongst the Arabs, the conversion of an infidel (by which name they designate all those who do not conform to their creed), is esteemed an action in the highest degree meritorious. This conquest to their faith, therefore, they make wherever an opportunity is open to them, by the most indiscriminate and unscrupulous means, according to the teaching of the Alcoran, which allows the lawfulness of all means, and the most unbounded license in their choice, for the attainment of a lawful object. Tahra, the Moor, failed not, accordingly, in her intercourse with the youthful Sol, to extol, as it were incidentally, the excellence of her religion, the many advantages enjoined by its adherents, and the unbounded esteem awarded by the true believers to those who consented to embrace it. But the lovely and innocent-minded Jewess, quite unconscious of the malignant purpose of her neighbor, heeded none of her exhortations, but rather listened to them with a degree of compassion. Being herself certain of her faith, and feeling an enthusiastic interest in the law under which she was born, she regarded merely as an excess of religious sentiment, the zeal which prompted the Mahometan to persevere in these encomiums of her religious tenets.

The dawn gleamed forth one day amid a thousand clouds, which hung in thick masses below the sky, and covered it with an opaque and gloomy screen; the mournful twittering of the warbling birds bespoke anxiety and alarm; the hoarse rushing of the wind threatened destruction to the woods; the flowers of the fields began to droop; the sun withdrew his light from the world beneath, and all seemed to presage a day of grief and bitterness--save in the home where the fair Sol arose, like another Circe, from her couch, and sallied forth, seeming to temper by her enchanting presence the angry frowns of the elements without. In the house of Hachuel was a chamber, set apart for devotional purposes. Thither she directed her earliest steps, having previously (after the manner of the Hebrews) cleansed her hands from all impurity. On quitting this oratory, she occupied herself in the various works of the house; but, as noon drew on, her mother, with her wonted asperity, reproved her for not having already completed her household task. Sol replied with a degree of warmth which aroused the anger of her mother, who angrily reproached and even threatened her with chastisement; when, in a fatal moment, the young girl, fearing lest she should be scourged, ran with precipitation to the house of the neighbor Tahra for refuge. Throwing herself into the arms of her from whom she expected some alleviation of her sorrow, the beautiful Sol again and again lamented the hardness of her fate, and wished for deliverance from the state of oppression in which she felt herself overwhelmed, betraying by her tears and profound agitation the excitement of her feelings and the disorder of her imagination; while the crafty Mahometan, perceiving the confusion into which her mind was thrown by the mingled feelings of resentment and grief to which she was giving way, listened with delight to her complaints, well knowing that the moment was now at hand when she might best execute her project.

"My daughter," said she, "thou art unhappy only because thou wilt be so. Thy mother enslaves thee, and thy passiveness meets only with hardships and abuse. Thy neighbors and acquaintance compassionate thee; all are scandalized at thy mother's treatment, and blame thee for not seeking a remedy for thy sorrows, when it is in thy power to do so. No moment more propitious than the present could offer itself to thee; I will be thy protector--I will be thy friend. To my care intrust thy salvation, and be comforted. Sweet Sol, dost thou not understand me?"