A female gambler detects an opponent cheating and rakes in the pot.
A gambling saloon on one of the main streets of Leadville.
In a Cheyenne gambling Saloon.
Astounding Revelations of a Low Cunning and Vile Curiosity in One of the Proprietors of the Grand Opera House.
Jim Tuttle startles a faro bank party, at Gold Hill, Neb.
They call it the "retreat" because of its charming privacy and apparent obscurity.
She Bucks the Tiger and Quits $200 Ahead.
Two female athletes at Virginia City, Nevada, indulge in a wrestling match for the championship.
The Police Succeed in Breaking Up Another Gambling Establishment.
A “friendly” poker scheme exposed at Bogota, N. J., by one of the players squealing.
Many a one, who otherwise would not contribute a dime, will take a chance in a lottery.
The term “bunco” has come to mean to any type of swindle, but in the 19th century it usually referred to a confidence game involving crooked gambling.

A terrific explosion occurred in Dr. Dows’ drug-store, at Washington and Lagrange Streets, Boston, on Wednesday evening, May 26th. The building was four stories in height, and built of brick, with a front of thirty feet on Washington Street, and a depth of seventy feet on Lagrange Street. The ground-floor was occupied by G. D. Dows, apothecary and manufacturer of soda water. It was one of the most complete and well-arranged establishments in the city.
Three persons were killed and some twenty wounded. It is feared that several are fatally injured, and that probably other bodies may be found buried in the debris.
A metropolitan horsecar was passing downtown at the time, and this was blown bodily over against the curbstone on the opposite side of the street. Every window was broken, and the passengers, some twenty in number, were rendered momentarily insensible by the concussion. Since the disaster, various theories have been advanced as to the cause of the explosion—some attributing it to nitroglycerine, some to the soda generator, and others to an escapement of gas from the pipes in the cellar; but the cause is still a mystery.
Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, June 12, 1875.


