"--_Times
Paris Correspondent_.]
_The Bookie_. "ALL RIGHT, MOSSOO, I'M OFF TO ENGLAND! THERE'S NO PLACE
LIKE 'OME!"]
(_EXTRACT OF LETTER FROM_ DICKY DIDDLUM, _BOOKMAKER, PARIS, TO_
BOUNDING BOB, _DITTO, NEWMARKET._)
"... Our game here appears to be as decidedly _hup_ as the top of the
Awful Tower! Regular mugs, these Mossoos, after all. Thought we _had_
taught 'em a bit about _Ler Sport_ by this time: but, bless yer, BOB,
once a Pollyvoo, always a Pollyvoo! No Frenchy really hunderstands a
'Oss, or knows 'ow to make a Book!
"Abolish Betting!!! Wot next, I wonder? Wot with County Councils,
dunderheaded Deppyties, and Swells who do the Detective bizness in
their own droring-rooms, pooty soon there won't be a safe look in for
a party as wants to do a nice little flutter--unless, of course, he's
a Stock-Exchange spekkylator, or a hinvester in South American Mines.
_Then_ he can plunge, and hedge, and jockey the jugginses as much as
he's a mind to. Wonder how that bloomin' French _Bourse_ 'ud get along
without a bit o' the pitch-and-toss barney, as every man as _is_ a man
finds the werry salt of life. Yah! This here Moral game is a gettin'
played down too darned low for anythink. And wot's it mean, arter all?
Why, 'No Naughtiness, except for the Nobs!' That's about the exact
size of it, and it's blazing beastly, BOB!
"Only one of the dashed Deppyties talked a mossel o' sense, fur as _I_
see.
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