A NEW JOINT-STOCK PANDEMONIUM COMPANY.
Reading edition
Gaming without risk, certainty in chance, Fortune showering her favours out of the dice-box, are promised by the promoters of a New Joint-Stock Company just set on foot in Paris, the prospectus of which now lies before us. This is nothing less than a society for the propagation of gambling in San Francisco; “capital, one hundred and fifty thousand francs, in three hundred shares of five 404hundred francs each, provisionally registered on May 10, 1850. Chief Office, No. 17, Rue Vivienne.”
The promoters of this precious Cercle de San Francisco declare that certainty will be the issue of this notable scheme, the essence of which is hazard. “There never was,” they say, “an enterprise more sure of gain. Three years, with twelve dividends, paid once a quarter, will produce enormous results. These have been accurately tested by the most conscientious (?) calculations, based on the produce of the German gaming-houses, and we have ascertained that each share of five hundred francs will yield an annual dividend of three thousand francs over and above interest at six per cent!”
The future House itself is thus painted in bright perspective:—“A fine house of wood, of two stories, with a magnificent coffee-room on the ground floor; a vast saloon on the first-floor for two roulette-tables; on the second, apartments for the manager, the servants; and the officers; the whole completely furnished, with all necessary appurtenances for warming and lighting. Tables, implements, counters, iron coffers for the specie, &c., are to be immediately exported by a sailing vessel. M. Mauduit, the manager, will accompany these immense munitions, together with subordinates of known probity. M. Charles, chief-of-the-play at Aix, in Savoy, is to follow, as director of the expedition, at the end of October, by steamer. It is expected that preparations will be complete, so as to open the Cercle in San Francisco on the 31st December of this year.”
Of all the bare-faced schemes that was ever presented to a French public, this is surely the most extravagant. There is nothing in Jerome Patûrot that equals it in impudence.