A communication, by “Erskine,” with the above heading, which appeared in your issue of December 7th, has filled me, as I doubt not it has the minds of many of your readers, with sorrow. Whatever the object of the writer may have been, the article will not serve any other purpose than that of palliating the vice of gambling—a vice, as the author of the communication confesses, “of no ordinary magnitude.” He wishes to see gambling promptly and finally suppressed, and what means does he use to further this important result? He uses scarcely any language but what will inevitably serve to encourage those who commit this vice to prosecute their ruinous career. He cites, for their gratification, what he alleges are Scriptural and Apostolical examples. He tells them that “before the flood,” Chance was a god at whose altar millions worshipped, and that when Barsabas and Matthias, as recorded in the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, found themselves rival aspirants for a vacant Apostleship, “they resolved to gamble for it, and that Matthias won it.” Now, to say nothing of the unhappy manner in which the latter part of the extract was penned, let me ask “Erskine” where he found out that any species of gambling prevailed before the flood? Who or what is his authority for the statement? The Bible says nothing on the subject, never mentions a single individual of that period as having anything to do with games of chance. If the Bible is silent on the subject, one is entirely at a loss to know whence the writer of this article got his information, for there is no other authentic history of the Antideluvian era, or, indeed, any history at all. If the assertion could have been proven, and the fact established, the period was certainly a most unfortunate one to refer to, for “Erskine,” who admits the immorality of gambling, might very readily have remembered that it was on account of the vices of the men of that time that the flood came and swept them away. Who informed the author of the communication in question that Barsabas and Matthias were “rival aspirants” for the vacant Apostleship? The account in Acts, which he quotes, says nothing of their being “aspirants” to the office, says nothing of their being rivals, or desiring the position at all. What is the authority for saying that they resolved to gamble for it? The account does not state that they had anything to do with what was done on the occasion. It does not inform us that these two Disciples were even present at the time referred to. What does he get his information from? If he had examined the narrative, instead of trusting to some vague recollection of it, as he seems to have done, he would have seen that the lot was cast by others. It is evident, from the language, that these two Disciples had nought to do with the act which elevated them to office. They did not gamble for the position, nor did anybody gamble on the occasion, as can be shown by a most simple illustration. When a landed estate is to be divided between (say) three heirs, and into three equal parts, it is a most common thing for three tickets, representing these three portions, to be placed in a common receptacle, and each heir draws out one of those tickets, and takes the part of the land designated by the ticket. This is the modern lot, and corresponds to the ancient lot, in principle, such as was used by the Apostles in the selection of one to fill the vacancy occasioned by the Apostacy and death of Judas, and by the Roman soldiers as to who should have the seamless coat of the crucified Jesus. There was no gambling in the case, no property of one man passing to the hands of another upon a turn of a die, without any equivalent—the circumstance, and almost alone circumstance, which constitutes the essence and vice of gambling.

In further illustration of his idea that gambling will go on, this writer informs us of the “popularity of this practice in high circles,” arguing from this circumstance that the evil has too strong a position to be overthrown. The gentleman might as well have argued the same thing in respect to other evil courses. Mr. Clay and S. S. Prentiss, he tells us, gambled freely, and so did Charles James Fox, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan. All of which is true, and some of these men were guilty of other vices also. Mr. Prentiss not only gambled, but was notoriously a dissipated, drinking man, who died before his time, from his excesses. Mr. Fox not only gambled, but kept a mistress, was a rake generally, wore his shirt-bosom all open in a very vulgar, indecent way, and was rarely, as Mr. H. Walpole tells us, purified by ablutions. Were all these things popular in high circles? Did the fact that Mr. Fox committed these things prove that they were popular in high circles? Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan not only was a most reckless gamester, but he habitually drank himself to the most beastly intoxication, and was drowned in debt, and hunted by sheriffs, and trusted by no one, and died man-forsaken, and God-forsaken, and was found dead in a room, not a fit habitation for swine. Were all these things popular in high circles, because Mr. Sheridan who committed them, was, on account of his brilliant talents, admitted to the best society? Is it the sober truth in the case, Mr. Editor, that, “The name of Cassius honors this corruption?”

Or does the corruption dishonor the name of Cassius? Did Charles James Fox enjoy the high moral position of William Pitt who never gambled, and nearly always had Mr. Fox “sub pollice?” Did poor Sheridan, the very sight of whom, we suppose, reminded men of cards, ever occupy the eminence and have the influence of Wilberforce, or George Canning? These men certainly did not attain the weight they would have secured, if they had been free from this vice, and the corruption surely dishonored “the name of Cassius.” The names of the prominent persons mentioned by the writer of the article under consideration did not, could not give dignity or innocence to the practice in question, and there is nothing in the fact that these men were guilty of this vice, to show that this practice cannot be successfully opposed, or will continue to be committed with no important diminution, as long “as grass grows, and water flows.” The argument, to my mind, sir, is wholly destitute of force or even plausibility.

“Erskine” asks, in italics, “when and where was gambling ever put down?” If the gentleman had familiarized himself with the history of gaming, he would have known that the public opinion, of which he speaks slightingly, as rather inclining to the other side, has put an end to female gambling for money. This practice on the part of females is now very rare, not unblushingly committed as it was in the seventeenth century, when it called forth the elegant satire of Joseph Addison. This was no small triumph. But I must ask, when was robbery ever put down thoroughly, or intemperance, or fraud, or slandering, or murder? Shall no true-hearted lover of his kind and country, especially in this infancy of our Confederacy, when all ought to be endeavoring to give a proper mould to its laws and its virtue, shall no virtuous patriot exert himself to put down any vice, because it has not been successfully warred against in days that are gone? Shall you, Mr. Editor, forego, your laudable efforts to give form and color to the destinies of the young Republic, because evils have always existed in free governments? If this argument were fairly carried out would it not strike a death-blow at all reformatory legislation whatsoever?

But men will not tolerate a law forbidding gambling with cards when the gambling of trade is allowed and protected. This is another argument. It almost carries its refutation on its face, from the simple fact that trade lacks the essential feature which constitutes gambling. There is no gaining your neighbor's goods, without giving him an equivalent. You part with goods, and get money. There is merely in the transaction a calculation of probabilities and the laws of trade, which the most comprehensive mind makes by. If a man deceives his neighbor, of course it is a mere case of fraud. But there is no such thing in the case as two men meeting in a room, and one, after the management of some pieces of paper, carrying off the money of the other, without giving him one cent's equivalent. Of course there is exchange or trade cannot exist; but in gambling nothing is given, while the other is deprived of everything. The want of parallelism, between the two cases, is almost too palpable to allow of discussion. This writer is, of course, no gambler, as he tells us so; but he has certainly taken up this plausibility, so often heard among the advocates of this practice, without bestowing on it the analysis which he is evidently capable of giving it. I commend his argument on this point to his reexamination.

The more I read this article, Mr. Editor, the more I am struck with its want of logical coherence and force. “Excitement men must have,” he tells us, and because the minds of men, in accordance with a law of their nature, love and cultivate innocent enthusiasm in the line of sculpture, painting, music, astronomy, poetry, eloquence, etc., therefore, no attempt to curb the indulgence of a guilty and pernicious passion like that of gaming can be expected to be successful. Could any reasoning possibly be more unsound? Ninety-nine men out of every hundred, he informs us, have cultivated “a card enthusiasm,” and it is “a pet passion of the million.” Now, if by “card enthusiasm,” he means a passion for gambling for money; and, by the subsequent language, that gaming for the purposes of gain is “a pet passion of the million,” I must be permitted to doubt the correctness of this estimate of the proportion such persons bear to the community. The present writer has never lived or visited in a community in Virginia, or heard authentically of one, where the proportion of gamesters was greater than that of ten to a hundred, if it was that even. I do not think that there is a neighborhood of gentlemen in Virginia where they would not deem it an insult to have it said of them that ninety-nine out of a hundred of them had cultivated a passion for cards, or, in other words, played cards for money, for we are talking of this, and nothing else. Because of the wide prevalence of this practice, this writer infers that “any law which strikes at the fullest fruition of this pet passion” will be incessantly thwarted and foiled in its execution. Men, he says, “can do it and they will.” This is his position, and yet he winds up his article by recommending a law forbidding gambling, except in certain legalized establishments. Would not a law of this sort strike at the fullest and freest fruition of this passion? If a man must walk or ride, say three miles in a city, to reach a lawful gambling house, and cannot game elsewhere on penalty of going to the penitentiary, or paying a heavy fine, is this no strike at the freest fruition of his passion, and if it is, as it certainly is, how, according to this writer, can his own law be carried out? There is a singular want of logic here, and yet not a more singular one than that exhibited in the proposition which it would seem to be the object of the communication to make, viz: that certain “gambling houses” be licensed, with heavy penalties, &c., to those who game elsewhere.

Let us examine this briefly, and then close this long article. We must legalize gambling, as the French and Germans, with their notoriously low moral tone, have done. We must legalize it, as these two infidel nations of Europe have done, for they are, perhaps, the only two distinctively infidel countries on that continent, and we, in the youth of our nation, or rather infancy, must begin by imitating them. We must follow France, standing as she does on the thin crust of a social volcano, and Germany, the confessed fountain of modern infidelity in religion and morals. By way of giving a healthful moral impetus to the conscience of the young nation, we must walk in these illustrious footsteps. We must legalize “a vice of no ordinary magnitude,” until our fame as gamblers rise out of obscurity, into world-wide notoriety, as these French and Germans have emerged to their bad eminence. If the writer of this proposition had wanted to encumber it with odium, he could not, perhaps, have adopted a more effectual method of doing so, than by telling the readers of the Whig that this law he recommends is a law in Germany and a law in France.

We must “legalize gambling.” We forbid murder, robbery, slander, drunkenness, profane swearing, fraud and other vices, but perhaps we have made a terrible mistake all this while. Certain houses ought to have been regularly qualified by law, in which these crimes could have been committed with legal sanction, and money, too, accrue to the municipal authorities from the proprietors of these establishments. Is not this, Mr. Editor, the first time, in the history of this vice in this country, that it has been proposed to diminish it by making it absolutely a lawful act? Would it not relieve this practice of at least nine-tenths of its odium? Who that reflects a single moment can doubt this? And who that loves this nation would not tremble to see this vice taken under the protection of her laws and governors? Let this thing be done, sir, and steel does not more surely draw the lightning of the skies, than would such an act attract the wrathful curse of the Lord Jehovah.

This writer believes that, if his proposal was adopted, and gambling in unlicensed houses made a felony, the vice would be diminished, and free-born, high-spirited men would no longer be compelled to “slink in and out,” by night, at the back doors of gaming houses. This whole proposition, Mr. Editor, is very summarily, but logically, disposed of. These men, who thus furtively frequent gaming places, do not “slink out and in,” because these houses are unlicensed houses, but principally for the reason that they are “gaming houses.” They do not want to be recognized as gamesters, because it is a disreputable thing. And, although to legalize gaming houses would take away a large share of the odium which adheres to this practice, still any person who should gamble, and at the same time have a sensitive regard to his reputation generally, and as a safe business man more particularly, would yet enter these lawful gaming houses with a stealthy tread, and that after the shades of night have fallen on the earth. Make unlicensed gaming a felony, and you will prevent men from daring to have unlicensed gaming houses. This will deter men from keeping such houses, he tells us, and thus you will diminish gambling. This admission, Mr. Editor, causes the whole proposal to dwindle into nothing, and vanish like vapor before the sun.

I take my leave of the subject, simply remarking, that if men would be deterred from keeping unlicensed gaming houses, by fear of the penalty attached to a felony, they would be deterred from keeping any gaming establishments at all, if the act was by law a felony, to be followed, of course, by its appropriate punishment.

Buchanan, Botetourt County, Va.

Lord Byron it was, I believe, who said, sir, “A man must serve his time to every tradeSave censure—critics are already made;” and after having given to your attempt at a reply in the Whig of Thursday, to my article on the suppression of gambling, in the Whig of the 7th ultimo, an attentive and dispassionate perusal, I regret that I am not able to resist the involuntary conclusion that your brain is pregnant with the idea that you are ordained from on high, to be one of the “ready made”—that it is not to moral reformation, but to an immoral, because a vain glorious pedantry to which you have dedicated your facile pen—that you had rather shine temporarily as a superficial reviewer, than to toil quietly in the moral vinyard as a substantial reformer, and I do sincerely regret that talents such is yours should fall under the blight of such a conceit. Why, sir, gambling itself is not more utterly destructive of all those finer sensibilities indigenous to the genial regions of a generous bosom, than is this self same ill natured propensity for carping criticism. A little ephemeral reputation it may gain for you, “But och! it hardens a' withinAnd pertifies the feeling!”

Some tell days ago, sir, I sent you a communication, in reference to all article, on the “suppression of gambling,” which had appeared in the columns of the Whig, on the 7th ult., over the pseudonym of “Erskine.” I had no desire to be identified particularly with the author of the production in question, and through yourself, any who might feel interested, as the seriousness of the subject was calculated to inspire, simply making the observations of “Erskine” the theme of argumentative criticism. In that article, I was studious to avoid anything which the most sensitive courtesy could forbid. I was, therefore, somewhat surprised to see in a day or so, a letter, followed next day by a second, in the Whig, addressed to W. M. and signed “Erskine,” in which “Erskine” arrayed himself against me, and that certainly not of in the most refined way. Politer terms surely might have been discovered after a very brief search. If “Erskine” is not satisfied with the force of my logic in this matter, he certainly will, in his own mind, admit what ought to have been the power of my example. His impatience, as soon as he read my comments on his argument, was decidedly interesting, as well to others, as to myself, for the simple reason that it caused to pass before the mental eye, the image of a breast sticking full of arrows, not from any particular skill in the archer, but from the breadth, and nearness of the mark. In the two letters, which “Erskine” has addressed to me, he has not succeeded in tugging one of these arrows from his grieved bosom. Although he says in regard to the fine things he writes concerning gamblers: “I do solemnly assure you, it is for that purpose (the purpose of argument and none other, that I have referred to them at all,” it is still most evident, Mr. Editor, that the effect of all this is compliment to gamesters. “Erskine” may say, he does not mean this, and of course I am bound to believe it, as he tells me so, but I am at liberty to remember that there is such a thing as “sinning ignorantly,” and I incline to the opinion that the intelligent readers of the Whig, who were not deterred by the unique and ungracious opening of “Erskine's” letter to me from giving the rest of it a perusal, will be slow to think that there is, at all events, an adequate horror of gambling where the writer has so high an opinion of the colloquial powers, refinement and universal culture or these daily and hourly violators of public law, these main stays of a host of inferior thieves, these very pests of society. Lovers of law and morality do not generally speak in this strain, and when writer addresses the public, recommending a certain measure against any vice, and at the same time uses language concerning its votaries, to which men are not habituated, he is entirely mistaken if he fancies they can be easily reconciled to his proposal. The way of such a reformer is through a hedge of thorns, or if I may change the language, I see “Erskine” assaying to swing against a broad, rapid and expanding channel, and borne away exhausted and terrified towards the cataract of public condemnation. But I must not stay by this abyss.

I did not mean, Mr. Editor, to raise an “immaterial issue” when I asked “Erskine” for the proof of his assertion that, “before the flood, Chance was a God, at whose altar millions worshipped.” I did not care particularly how it might have been, as relates to the argument, not thinking, as “Erskine” did, that antiquity adds anything to the dignity of a vice! I only knew that there was no particle of evidence of gaming having gone on, in the antediluvian era, and simply designed, in calling for his proof, (which, of course, he did not have,) to throw over him, like a mantle, the confession of having made a positive statement, which was entirely without foundation. This was my chief object and “Erskine” is welcome to the result. Of course I did not, have any abstract choice, whether gaming was ancient or modern. If it had been committed prior to the flood, that would have no more been all extenuation of it than such antiquity could diminish the guilt of the violence and bloodshed which, as we are informed, then prevailed. My object was what I have stated it to be, and “Erskine” must not blame me, or the truth-loving readers of the Whig, if we remember that, at least in one instance, he has shown himself capable of making a random assertion—one having its origin in a mere flight of his swift imagination.

It is true, sir, that “Erskine” proves the existence of the Isthmian, Pythean and Olympic games, which no one denied, but the earliest of them had no being for over a thousand years subsequent to the flood. I criticised, with rather all unpleasant effect on the mind of “Erskine,” his positive averment that millions gamed before the flood; and he must now allow me to freshen his classical reminiscences, by calling his attention to a very prominent feature in the ancient games, which was that the prize on the various occasions was, in itself, usually, if not always, worthless. If “Erskine” had read his “Gibbon” or his “Kennett” lately, he would have remembered that a “simple garland” was the tangible prize in the races of the Roman Stadium, though money was very often given to the successful competitor by other persons. The money was not a stake, put up by the competitors themselves, but by admirers of those games, just as a pecuniary prize is now-a-days offered for the best literary work on some specified subject. The prize, however, was a “crown of leaves,” and above and beyond that the supposed “imperishable renown” of the victor in the national games. The money was an incidental thing, a voluntary offering from the by-standers or officers of the games, sometimes given and sometimes not given. Ausonius, as translated by Addison, would have informed “Erskine” to this effect, as, far as the prize of the Grecian games was concerned.

The leafy chaplet, as representing the crown of undying honor, with which the victor was to be rewarded, for his own sake and that of his family for some generations, was the prize in those ancient contests. The money that might be given was not an object in the minds of more noble aspirants. If it had been in any case known to be the absorbing object of the successful contestant, when we reflect on the high ideas the ancients had of the glories of these games, it is likely that the judges would have refuted to have crowned such an one, as unworthy, in consequence of the low motive that impelled him. That betting took place among the outsiders, of course, is probable, as “Erskine” tells us. Indeed, I can inform “Erskine” of what he evidently does not know, which is, that there were games of chance certainly about the Christian era, and that money was put up, as now, by the gamesters. He did not know this, else he would have given it as an authoritative fact, instead of relying on unfounded assertions in reference to the national games. If “Erskine” was really versed in the literature of this subject as well as he seems to be in the Arcana of those unhappy men, the gamesters of the present day, he would surely have given his readers the benefit of the significant line of Perseus, as translated by Dryden, “To shun Amez-Ace that swept my stakes away.”

I have vindicated the National Games of Antiquity, Mr. Editor, front the misconceptions of the author of these letters to me, and, while I inform him of the actual gaming, of a remote period, must take occasion to express my moral disapprobation of these practices—a disapprobation he has not avowed in reference to the alleged gambling of the public games in Italy and Greece. I condemn such things wherever found, whatever called, do not consider them “the legitimate offspring of human passions,” as he does, but the most veritable bastards of fallen humanity, and, like other illegitimates, laboring under the ban of the virtuous and pure in every land and in every age. Acknowledging, as every one acquainted with history must do, that gaming for money had a right ancient origin, I must insist on the idea that the antiquity of the vice is no vindication of it, more than it is of any other immorality, and will only remind this writer that it was when the children of Israel, in the desert, “sat down to eat and drink, (at their idolatrous feast,) and rose up to play,” (probably game,) that the Most High said to Moses, “this is a stiff-necked people, let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them.”

“Erskine,” I think, may be satisfactorily disposed of, by a few, calm observations on his other points. He insists on it, that Matthias and Barsabas gambled for the vacant Apostleship, and, in the game paragraph, speaks of gambling as “a vice of no ordinary magnitude.” Were these disciples of Jesus guilty of an immorality of “no ordinary magnitude.” Will “Erskine” tell his Christian readers this? Solomon tells us that “the lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.” Is the Lord, then, accessory to “a vice of no ordinary magnitude?" If not, then, the lot and gambling are not the same thing. Apart from this consideration, I assert that they did not thus gamble, and it seems to be the result of unreflection to make up one's mind to say that they did. How could there be gaining where neither lost anything that he had previously possessed? Could men ever make anything out of each other, by this kind of gambling? This writer says the parties, each, risked his claim, but does he not see that the claim is practically a thing of naught, until after the decision of the lot? Nobody had anything to lose, and the evil of gambling lies in the fact, that one loses perhaps his all, without anything whatever in the shape of an equivalent. What “Erskine” calls a “claim,” is in reality not a claim, because there is neither possession or ownership in the case. The ownership, or real claim, can only be established by the lot. He says, the chance of getting something is risked, and that judges have decided that “a chance” is a reality. But he must discriminate between this last kind of “chance” and the gaming “chance.” “Erskine” knows that the lawmakers and judges decide in the matter of gaming that this “chance” is practically nothing. This is the essential foundation of the law. The doctrine of the law is, that except in matters of charity, or “gifts in fee simple,” property shall not pass from one man's hand to another's without some return for the reason that the principle is intrinsically vicious. If I exchange merchandise for money, with my neighbor, there is a chance that each may make by the operation, or if money is paid for doubtful paper, the courts will determine that “the chance” is a reality, because the paper may bring something. But if a gambler puts another man's money into his pocket, leaving him penniless, what chance is there that the losing man will make anything by the transaction? In trade both parties may be benefitted. In gaming only one can be. This is the philosophy of the vice of gambling, the theory of the laws against gambling, and however “Erskine” may deceive his own mind, I think, if he, deeming it as he does a vice of no ordinary dimensions, will analyze his thoughts, he will find, that so far from this risked chance mitigating the offence, the whole guilt of the crime, does, in a circle of fire, flash, and play around this very point, this chance, which is not a chance.

“Erskine” complains that I misunderstand him in his allusions to Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan and others. How is this, sir? He said plainly enough that the gaming of these men showed it to be popular in the best circles, and therefore it would be almost, if not wholly impossible seriously to diminish it. I said, in reply, that the fact of the commission of this vice by these persons no more proved it to be popular in high circles than the practice of other vices by these men proved them to be popular and difficult to be overcome. What other treatment could an opponent give to so transparent a fallacy? And how have I misconstrued the writer? It would require a more plausible pen than his to show any misconstruction whatever; and he must support the weight which the refutation of his argument throws on him as well as he can.

In my letter to you, sir, I had spoken of the power of public opinion, as against gaming, and said that it had been signally shown, by the almost entire extinction or female gambling. I referred to the scathing diatribes of Addison as helping to give birth and body to this effective public sentiment. But “Erskine,” with a sharpness which your readers will be at a loss to appreciate, sees something “literally astounding” in this. He points us to Germany, and to Continental Europe generally, to show that females still game fearfully, and also to a lady's roulette room at Saratoga Springs, this latter accompanied by the very additional circumstance of being “kept by a man whose name was Grindle!” Does that refute my statement? When I spoke of Addison, and of English opinion, as moulded by his writings, did any reader of the Whig, except “Erskine,” imagine that I was extending this influence to Germany, where a different language is used and a different type of civilization obtains? I think not. Doubtless I was understood to mean Anglo-Saxon Christendom, including America. I did mean it, and the fact was as I have stated it to be. Gaming is not now a vice among the ladies of England as it was in former days; nor is it a vice of the ladies of the Confederate States. And notwithstanding this roulette-room for females at Saratoga, there is no evidence that gaming is a general thing, even among Northern women, far as we hold Northern society to be from representing Anglo-American civilization. “Erskine” tells the readers of the Whig, that in Baden-Baden, females gamble, and if I may use his figure, “fight the tiger like wild-cats.” But did he not see the deep into which he was plunging when he gave this information? It will be quite pleasant to all to remember that this Baden-Baden, where so odious a social evil exists, is in Germany, where gaming-houses are established by law, the very institution “Erskine” wishes to see in this State of Virginia. Does he not think that Richmond, where gambling houses are forbidden by law, will compare very favorably with Baden-Baden, where they are established by law? Do revolting and heart-sickening scenes like those described by “Kirwan” and Madam Le Vert, as occurring among females in the a lawful gaming-houses in Baden, ever transpire in Richmond, where such places are not tolerated by statute? Of course such an assertion will not be made. Leaving “Erskine,” therefore, to brood over the mishap resulting from his citation, and wishing him greater foresight in future, I pass to another objection.

I endeavored, in my letter of January 9th, to discredit the proposed law advocated by “Erskine,” by reminding your readers that Germany and France were infidel nations. This, of course, was legitimate and natural, but the author of these unique letters to me denies most stoutly that these nations, who take the initiative in passing a law of the kind in question, are infidel in their character. I did not suppose this would be controverted by any one, and remark now, that if the French nation, which takes into its bosom such theological vipers as Voltaire, Rousseau, D'Alembert and Cousin, delighting to honor them, and then periodically drenching itself with human blood, proclaim, “death is an eternal sleep!” if such a people are not practically as well as theoretically infidel, it will be difficult to determine infidelity. And if Germany, furnishing the literary works, whence French infidels, Westminster Reviewers and Boston free-thinkers draw their blasphemous stores, is not as infidel a nation as any people within the limits of professed Christendom ever could be, it will appear still more difficult to decide what infidelity is. I must not, however, discuss this matter further, but willingly leave it to your readers. As for this writer's taunt, that these infidel people will compel the payment of a gambling debt, while Christian nations will not, I have only to say that if France and Germany choose to take their thieving vampires, the gamesters, under especial State protection, by securing their ill-gotten gains to them, they are not injuring any one but themselves, and if “Erskine” really wishes to see this evil diminished, he ought to be pleased to have it encompassed by as many barriers and perils as possible. Having reached the end of the gentleman's first letter, I must close, promising tomorrow to look at the second, as decidedly the most striking of the two.

The second letter of “Erskine” opens with the singular, though not seriously meant, intimation, that I am favorable to the gamblers, but as he retracts this at once, I will look immediately at his declaration that the gamblers were favorable to my plan, and against his. And first let me say that if “Erskine” heard them express themselves as thus friendly to my proposal, of course I am bound to believe him, but if he did not, himself, hear their words, I am afraid he is speaking from some such information as he had, when he stated, positively, that “before the flood Chance was a god at whose feet millions worshipped.” His friends have, soothed him by telling him this, and by believing them, he has exhibited a credulity, only equalled by his vacancy of logic. His friends could not have heard the gamblers express themselves so repeatedly in my favor, because “Erskine's” associates cannot be the associates of gamesters, to hear them speak so much on one subject. “Erskine” himself certainly would not go among them to listen to their speeches. His unpopularity among them, of which he tells us, would certainly prevent their unburdening themselves in his presence, and thus furnishing him with an argument against them. If they did express themselves as against legal gaming houses, is it impossible, either in Richmond or New Orleans, that such men, in order to gain their object, should have made opposition to the plan? Are they incapable of such a ruse? No one can think that they are. Nothing is more easy than such a supposition. If they were opposed to such a law in New Orleans, what is more natural, when they did keep their 110 establishments without paying any tax? On these grounds I suspect that the real preference of the gamblers for my plan over his is somewhat of the nature of an hypothesis which would be good, if true, but not being a sound one, is nothing worth. How, indeed, Mr. Editor, can these unhappy men be favorable to the law, which I would have passed in regard to them? It would not allow any public gaming house for them to frequent, and if they gamed in such establishments as now exist, they would be sent to the Penitentiary. Pass a law making gambling, anywhere, a felony, and instead of these men paying, as they now do, a fine, some years' incarceration would be the penalty. Could anything be more obvious, than the proposition, that the severer the punishment, the greater the probability that men will be deterred from the commission of the unlawful act? “Erskine's” law would open houses, where all gamblers can go, and game freely. The law I recommend would shut up all the gambling dens in the State, on pain of the State prison, for a term of years, if kept in any manner. What is there in this prospect so very pleasing to gamesters? What can gamblers want with a law which, instead of inflicting a pecuniary mulct, as now, would deprive them of personal liberty for a protracted period? As for the lower class of these pestilential knaves whose trade “Erskine” would legalize, does he really believe, is he so little acquainted with this world, and the history of courts and licenses &c., as to believe that these men could not unite (say a number of them) and pay the tax, requisite to keeping one of his lawful gaming places, or to believe that the worst men in the community cannot get somebody to go their security? A number of men, forming a company, carry on the legalized gambling houses in Baden-Baden, why could not a company of gamesters, even of the worst sort, open and pay the tax on a lawful gaming place in Richmond? Why could not these vast numbers of gamesters found in the land, if their foul work is made lawful, form companies, pay the tax, and fill the purlieus of Richmond with their vile houses, while the wealthier robbers have more elegant “hells” on Main Street, and Broad? Why does not “Erskine” tremble at such a thought, and grow pale at such a prospect, instead of devoting himself as he now does, to the promotion of so terrific an object? As to the belief of this writer, if gaming is licensed, the practice will become conscientious, and we shall see a new generation of honest gamblers who would not cheat for the world, the idea simply excites wonder. Does “Erskine” really know what kind of a world he is in? Has he read the account of the “German Hells” in the Whig of January 15th? As soon as one reads this argument for lawful gambling houses, and thinks of “Erskine” embarking in his enterprise, with this idea, he is reminded at once of the band in Jerusalem who joined the ill-fated Absalom, and went forth “in their simplicity, and knew not anything.”

But, Mr. Editor, we have been made acquainted with some fascinating characters, in the form of gamblers, by the author of these letters to me; men of rare genius, literary culture, fine address, and colloquial powers, that would enable them to adorn any society, however refined. They are liberal men, too, give to the poor, to the war, and to churches. They are tenderhearted men also, fond of drying up other people's tears, and walk lovingly among the woes and sorrows of this earthly vale. They are persons of fine moral influence, men of salutary tendencies of various kinds. These are the obstacles which “Erskine” tells me stand in the path of all who would make successful war against this dark fraternity, the gamesters. He seems to have a genuine admiration for these wonderful individuals, who have so many alluring qualities. He should remember that, by all these attractions and arts, these men simply make their victims the more numerous and unsuspecting. These shining accomplishments are a part of the instruments these persons use in carrying on their work of ruin. Has “Erskine” forgotten the pithy saying of Lord Baron, concerning the gamester, that “the greater master he is in his art, the worse man he is”? Has he forgotten the gamester Mr. Law described, the slippery man, who ran away with a lady's daughter, “a man of great beauty, who in dressing and dancing has no superior”? Has he forgotten the elegant “Charles Price,” the forger, who played the gentleman so well, and preyed on his fellow men through a long life, and at last to escape his mental agony and shame, hung himself in Tothill prison? Did Price's superior manners redeem him from the execration of his countrymen? If “Erskine” is a lawyer, does he not know that the law, which is the “perfection of reason,” gives a man no credit for his accomplishments, if he be a violator of the law? Has he never read of that capital fellow, Isaac Dumas of Oxfordshire? He sung his song well, told a good story, was apt at a sentiment, drank freely, so that at the clubs of the day—who but he! The ladies, of course, occupied his attention, and he became so great a favorite, that he took to the road to consolidate his ascendancy—for he was generous. He would have done very well to rank among the worthies mentioned by “Erskine,” but the men of Oxford hung him up by his neck, agreeable as he was. I can commend “Dumas'” history to “Erskine's” meditations. He has read the great poet, let him peruse Gloster's soliloquy: “Why I can smile, and murder, while I smile;And cry content, to that which grieves my heart;And wet my checks with artificial tears,And frame my face to all occasions.I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;I'll play the orator is well as Nestor,Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,And, like a Simon, take another Troy.I can add colors to the Chameleon;Change shapes with Proteous, for advantage,And set the Murd'rous Machiavel to school,Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?”

Such ethereal, polished enemies of their race, sir, have not unfrequently been seen in this world of ours. These beautiful leopards, with their shining spots and silken coat, have often roamed the earth without a cage, and there ever have been some men, who thought they were too pretty and graceful in their motions to be put within bars, or anywise hindered in their fearful roamings. They were so pleasant—with all the blood around each mouth and dripping from their claws. “Erskine” ought to indulge in no laudatory language of these mortal foes of wives and cradled babes, and aged, palsied mothers, whose husbands, fathers and sons are in the jaws of these monsters, crunched to death. The shining qualities of such beings, used as they are to aid their ruinous emprise, become glistening vices, and men should hate their very forms and shadows with a mortal hatred. “Erskine” quotes from the Bible now and then, as he goes upon his way, in his letters. Does he find anything in the sermons or conversations of the Saviour of the world like an eulogy of the vicious, even for the sake of argument? Have gentlemanly manners in gamesters, here and there, anything worthy of a moment's thought, when men are discussing the methods of checking the depredations of these sleek savages—“these wolves in sheep's clothing?” I know “Erskine” does not consider himself the apologist for gamblers; but, when he descants on the superior virtues of members of this heaven-cursed company, does not every gamester feel that he may be virtuous and a gamester still? Does not every youth, who reads his lucubrations, take into his mind the thought he may game to his heart's content, and yet be a “thorough gentleman,” “stand high in private and public confidence,” and be in benevolence a philanthropist, and in his munificence a prince? Who does not see that the effect of this is and must be evil, and only evil? How closely does this resemble the course described in Scripture of the man who “scatters firebrands, arrows and death,” and of him “who leadeth his neighbor astray, and saith, am not I in sport?” When “Erskine” tells gamblers that members of their foul craft have been men of almost every virtue under heaven, (does this not satisfy such persons that a gambler is not necessarily an immoral man; that he is not immoral simply because he is a gamester? When this writer tells these men that Apostles gambled, can he expect them to desire superior virtue to the Apostles; or that the young men, whose fate in this thing, at this moment, is, perhaps, balanced on a needle's point, will not be content to game deeply, if they think they shall be no worse than Apostles? If “Erskine” is, indeed, a lover of the public virtue and happiness, he ought surely to weigh well his words, lest he should bring into being results at which his very heart would turn sick. He speaks of his sons; he would be wise, perhaps, to remember that, in teaching such a doctrine, in regard to inspired Apostles, he may be sowing in the minds of those sons seeds which shall spring up and grow into a harvest of woe for them and him.

What is the meaning, Mr. Editor, of all this parade about the liberality of gamblers; the gentleman tells me, that these men give thousands of dollars to individuals and to churches. Would he receive from any man, for a gift at Christmas, money made out of “a vice of no ordinary magnitude”? If “Erskine” has a passion for building churches, would he receive assistance, from such men, to pay for their erection? I think, sir, it would evince, in any one, a very great ignorance of the laws of Providence, to expect a heavenly blessing, on a church edifice, built with in-gotten gains, its every stone cemented with the tears and blood of the widow and the fatherless. I will do “Erskine” the credit to suppose, that, on reflection, he would not receive this cankered gold, even from the lilly hand of the finest of these murderers. The liberality of gamblers! In one very obvious sense, sir, this seeming virtue is the fruit of the life-long vice of the individual who shows it. “The substance of the diligent, (says Solomon) is precious,” that is, the working man, knows the value of money because he has toiled hard to procure it. Such a man deals wisely with his means, either giving or retaining them prudently. But the gamester secures his gold without toil, fills his coffers, out of what he calls “play,” and therefore will be more likely to part with money easily, whether wisely or unwisely. His apparent excellence is the offspring of a real vice. I mean in very considerable measure. If there is any true generosity, in the heart of such a man, it is a puzzling problem to reconcile it with the rest of his character. Half the time, if not more, liberality in such men is the mere effect of a desire to impress others with the idea, that the donors are good, kind fellows, who do not care for money and would not defraud a person, no, not on any account. Indeed, they would help a poor man, instead of injuring him. The deed of charity is with them, in a large number of cases, a mere intended offset to the general cruelty of their ingenuous lives. If this man “Prindle” in Savannah, mentioned by “Erskine” would have “dried every tear” “in this vale of tears” if he could, why did he go on in a life which caused so many tears to be streaming down the scalded cheeks of misery? Why did he pass his whole career in opening the fountains of mothers' and children's sorrow, and unlocking the chambers of their groans? But I must not dwell, Mr. Editor, on this pernicious idea any longer.

“Erskine” tell us, that such men stand in the path of my argument; that a gambler in Richmond, one in Savannah, and, one who graduated some years ago at a university, very wonderful men, in his view, these occasionally found men, these scattered wrecks of human nature, stand in the highway of reform. Indeed, sir! If Richmond policemen can force their way into the polluted chambers of the gamester, and put these grand gentlemen to flight, through back-doors and small windows, will it be so impossible a thing to repress this evil, and keep it low, as you do my other vice? Detectives in your city have brought the instruments of the black art of these criminals, into the courts, and showed them before all men. They have in some cases brought their persons, and upright, brave judges, either have disposed of their cases, or shortly will do so, punishing them as they most richly deserve. There is nothing difficult in the supposition, that more stringent enactments might be passed against them, and determined officers be found to arrest them, and resolute juries to convict them, and men on the bench, the purity of whose ermine would not be sullied, by attempts to let such offenders escape through the meshes of the law. The noble and true men of Virginia, nine-tenths of whom condemn this practice, can rise in their might, and demand the passage of such laws as shall drive these men out of the land, to Germany or to France, where they can make their blood-red bread, with none, for a moment, to hinder or make them afraid. Let the public imagination of Virginia be put in full possession of all the hateful features and sad terrors of this work of darkness; let the people become keenly and thoroughly aroused to the enormities of this thing; let ministers, and editors, and orators at the bar turn it, on every side, that men may see its hideous, devilish shape, and disgusting proportions; pass laws making it a felony and then we shall see who will be allowed to stand in the path of justice and of power. If A., under “Erskine's” plan of legal gaming houses, would be deterred from the crime by fear of a felon's cell, why should not A. and B. and C., and all men be restrained from the commission of the offence by dread of the same penalty, if there were no gaming houses protected by law? High position or personal gifts afford no reliable security to the violators of their nation's laws, and they know it. They would respect the majesty of the law, or they would be made to fall before it. The accomplished and popular William Dodd, perishing on a scaffold, though the first men in England tried to save him, and Lord Ferrars, going from his castle to a gibbet, and others like them, may remind “Erskine” that men “surrounded by a host of friends” cannot always, with impunity, trample on their country's will. I believe, Mr. Editor, no better law, than such an one as I have now spoken of could be devised. It may be sharp, but many diseases require the knife and this is one of them. I believe with equal conviction that “Erskine” proposal is the most unwise that could possibly be made. I incline to think it meets the reprobation of nearly every lover of virtue and public happiness, and trust the Legislature, at a time when so much depends on their wisdom and firmness, will display an elevation of mind and heart, worthy of its past days, and show this scheme no favor, none whatever. Let it, in a mad hour, be adopted, and not only will gambling be mightily increased, but that being the parent of many other crimes, every sluice of iniquity will fly open, and every vice rush unfettered and uncontrolled through the land.

“Erskine” says in his last letter, that he will not answer one argument of mine, as he chooses to call it, viz : an alleged objection to his scheme, to the effect, that if gaming houses are licensed, heavily taxed, and, therefore, few in number, it would be a restriction on men's liberty, as on account of the distance they would have to go, to reach a lawful gaming house, they would be put to much inconvenience. He represents me as bringing this forward as an argument against his plan. I offered no such objection. If “Erskine” read, and thought carefully on what I said, he must have seen that I only mentioned that such would be the case, in order to show one of his arguments to be self-contradictory. He had said that “any law which strikes at the fullest and freest fruition of a pet passion of the million is bound to arouse the combative propensities of the masses, and they will eternally thwart and foil its execution.” This was his assertion, and then he proposes a law, which he says will check this vice most sensibly; yes, “achieve a Solferino victory over gaming.” When I was looking at this part of his article, I saw of course the glaring inconsistency of the two things and simply pointed it out. I asked him, how this law of his, which he says would cause the gaming houses to be few, and therefore remote from vast numbers, how a law so inconvenient, and hampering to the “pet passion of the million ” could be carried out, seeing he had said the masses would “eternally thwart and foil” such a law? He writes as if I were objecting to this restraint on men's liberty, whereas my article showed him, that I wanted the penalty of a felony to hang over the head of every man who gambles. I would like to see barriers of every kind erected around this vice, and merely alluded to “Erskine's” proposed restriction of a vice which he said could not be restrained, in order to exhibit the want of logic which his recommendation involved. This was all, sir. And “Erskine's” failure to notice the true issue doubtless had its natural effect on the minds of his readers. It showed them a consciousness, on his part, that the various ideas he has on this subject are not joined in a chain which none may break.

“Erskine's” last complaint, that one kind of gambling, viz: with cards, is denounced and forbidden, while various other sorts—betting, lotteries, etc.—are allowed, I have nothing to do with. The inconsistency is in the laws of the land, not in my position. The discrimination in favor of betting, etc., is doubtless owing to the fact that these are not such formidable evils as the other; but, if my power were equal to my wishes, they would all be abolished as immoral, often ruinous, and discreditable to any individuals, companies, or especially Churches, that engage in them. “Erskine's” inquiry, which he puts to me, in reference to the fatal effects of ardent spirits, and his taking for granted that I favor the licensing of the drinking houses of the land, is of a piece with many other parts of his letters. My article of the 9th had nothing in it to raise so dark a suspicion. One would have supposed that this writer's recent Antediluvian experience would not have been so soon forgotten. The great barrister, sir, whose name “Erskine” has so innocently taken, that eloquent pleader, a man of wider fame and larger powers than his American admirer, would not have used such an assumption as this, if by it he could have taken even the strongholds of a Howard.

I promised on Saturday to prove to-day, that in the possession of that shining quality called courage, “yourself alone could be your only parallel.” There is, I am aware, a desperation resembling courage, of which it is said cowards are capable; but I entertain not the slightest apprehension that I have mistaken the one for the other. It is generally in the dernier resort that we meet with desperation at all. It is the offspring of mental and physical convulsions and the inseparable companion of emergencies and extremities. When all is at stake it performs the same office courage does in quest of excitement, the redress of injuries or the support of the right. Now, my opinion is, that of late you have only been in quest of a little excitement; but in that adventure it certainly must be admitted that you have exhibited a courage it would take the desperation of a craven, when his very existence was at stake, to rival. A Greek philosopher of eminence once defined courage to