Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 March 1884 — He Always Held a Good Hand. [ARTICLE]
He Always Held a Good Hand.
Two years ago a good-looking young fellow came to town, and stuck, out his shingle as a physician. Somebody invited him to play, and just for accommodation, he did so. He won. He played again, and he won. The hands that man used to hold were paralyzing. He was in bad luck if he didn’t have at least an ace full. One night, after he had been here about three weeks and was about $2,000 winner,. he sat down to a game with some gentlemen, when Col. , a prominent State official, lounged into the room. Instantly the doctor arose and started for the door. He was gone before any one could stop him. Then the Colonel told what the doctor’s little game was, and now he detected him. The doctor’s Hands were very large, and in the palm of his left hand he kept a bit* of sticking-plaster. He would slip in three cards, which the sticking-plaster kept in place. The rest was easy enough to an adept. The Colonel detected him after he had been beaten out of several hundred dollars. The doctor suddenly and mysteriously disappeared the next day. —Frankfort <Jor. Boston Herald. Nobody ever saw the word “humbug” until it was first scrawled on the walls of Dublin, and “skedaddle” was unknown in onr language until July 21, 1861, at the battle of Bull Bun. These teips, like that of “dude,” sprang into existence almost without volition, and each in its way expressed a new shade of meaning, and caught the eye of the public. Strictly speaking, the word “dude” is applied 1 to those who imitate some class of English life, but a man may be a “dude” and wear homespun. The “dude” was not content to be a fop alone—a mere imitator as to eyeglass and dress—he must imitate the language of Houndsditcli and the spciety fop of England. His mission is merely to stand at the cross-roads of time and show us where not to go.—Judge Tourgee. It iB good for those who live in fullness to cultivate tenderness of heart.
