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The Modern Knight.
Whose is no Hore the stately tread.
Tho gravely courteous mien,
Th* linke* mull and helmet head,
?fte blade ot Syrian sheen ;
Who walks the ways of common men,
In hurrying haunts of trude.
His arms, the ledger and the pen,
The ploughshare and the spade.
Whose splendor is no more the sun
Of court?, the pron* array,
In spars or knighthood wildly won
lu some tierce foagbt array ;
Whose dress, as sober to the ?lance
is autumn's brewn leaf, hies
Unnoticed, on each breeze ol chance,
Or wind of enterprise.
Wn? coolly scans his fellew-men
With philosophic eye ;
Converses calmly, knowing when
To smile, or when to sigh.
Xor tilts at wind-mills-saves his breath
To name them with a sneer :
MacGregor, on his native heath,
Frem him had nought to rear.
Who rides ne more through forest dim,
With half-drawn sword, aad prayer
Upon his Ups, or holy hymn.
To gnard from ?vii there.
Who steps with dainty foot-fall, down
The church's throng-haed aisle,
And views the emblemed cross aad crown
Witt self-snnlcient smile.
Whose chivalry to all the weak 4
Is proofless-who can cheat
The widew and the orphai meek,
And all their woes complete ;
Whose highest alai is self, whose laugh
Greets wrong, who mocks at right,
Who bows befere the gelden calf
Is this the modern knight?
Ah ! ne. Who loves not his own age.
With aU its faults of kind.
May rank as hermit learn'd or sage,
Bat leaves all love behind :
Kornau ma? hearts, since Adam, beat
with pulses still the same,
And ?hange, which time most ever meet,
Is half-a change of same.
And loyal truth, pure knighthood's best,
A bright twluned star, still lies
Reflected from thc earaest depths
Of some clear human eyes ;
What though the jesting cynic lurk
Upon the ton jue ; words can
Bot chubenge jest, when noble work
Proclaims the cynic, man.
And hoaor, chivalrv, live yet,
Deny lt, ye who may ;
Your cheeks with passioned tears still wet,
In memory of a day,
i When woke the loud, stern trump of wars,
And gi? wed each latent spark,
Of knighthood, till a Meld ?r stars
Blazed o'er his scutcheon dark.
Ay, chivalry ls living yet,
Nor all laid 'neath the sod,
With lives, (a country's long regret,)
T? country gives and Ged ;
Not less showed forth Ita lofty power,
Not leas Its pride ef will,
That hardest lesson of the hour,
To loller and he still.
So dating In war's fierce melee,
S? patient and so strang,
To bear reverse, what minstrel's lay,
What poet's sweetest sang
Can tell of Cour de Lions more,
Or hymn Crusaders' story f
Pass by the vaunted days of yore,
Prom glory unto glory t
Ia ll'e's great tournament, the knights
Wage kiidly contest ever,
Not dim In distance, ail the lights
Of chivalric endeavor;
Whoever doubts n?w take good heed,
Or keep his vizor do wa,
F?r donbt ls doubt's deserved meed.
As trust ls honor's crown. [LATIENNB.
THE SCENE-PALNTEB'S WIFE.
BT M. E. BRADDON.
Author of "Lady Audley's Secret,'' 4c.
" You wouldn't think lt, to look at her now,
sir," said the old clown, as he shook the ashes
out ef his blackened clay, "but madam was
once as handsome a woman as you'd see for
many a long day. It was an accident that
spoilt her beauty."
The speaker was attached to a little eques?
trian company with which I had fallen in dur?
ing a summer day's pedestrianism in Warwick?
shire. The troupe nad halted at a roadside
inn, where I was dawdling over my simple
mid-day meal, and by the time I had smoked
my cigar in his companionship, the clown'and
I were upon a footing of perfect friendli?
I had been not a little struck by the woman
of whom he spoke. She was tall and slim,
and bad something ol a foreitrn look, as I
thought. Her face was chiefly remarkable for
the painful impre si?n which it gave to a strau
fer. It was the face of a woman who had un
ergoue some great terror. The sickly pallor
of the skin was made conspicuous by the hec
flfc brightness ot the large black eyes, and on
one cheek there was a scar-the mark of some
deadly hurt inflicted long ago.
My new friend and I had strolled a little way
fr jul the inn, where the rest of the company
were still occupied with their frugal dinner.
A stretch of sunny common lay belore us. and
seemed to invito a ramble. The clown Ailed
his pipe, and walked on meditatively. I took
out another cigar.
" Was it a fall trom horseback that gave her
that scar r* I asked.
M A fan from horseback ! Madame Delavan
ti ! No.^ir, that seam on her cheek was made
by the claws of a tiger. It's rather a curious
sort of story, and I don't mind telling lt. if you'd
like to hear it ; but for the Lord's sake don't
let her know I've been talking of her. If you
should happen to scrape acquaintance with her
when yon go back to the inn."
; -Has she such a dislike of being talked
411 rather think she has. You see she's not
quite right in the upper story, poor soul ; but
.?she rides beautifully, and doesn't know what
fear means. You'd scarcely believe how hand?
some she looks at night when she's dressed for
the ring. Her face lights np almost as well as
it used to do ten years ago, before 6he bad thc
accident Ah. she was handsome in those
days, and used to be run after by all the gen?
tlemen like mad. But she never was a bad
lot, never-wild and self-willed, but nevera
wicked woman, as I'll stake my life. I've been
' her friend through thick and thin, when she
. needed a friend, and I've understood her bet?
ter than others.
She was only twelve years old when she
came to us with her father, a noted lion-tamer.
He was a man that drank hard now and then,
and was very severe with her at such times ;
but she always had a brave spirit, and I never
knew ber to quail before bim or before the
beasts. She used to take her share in all the
old man's performances, and when he died,
and the lions were sold off, our proprietor kept
a tiger for her to perform with. He was the
cleverest of all the animals, but a queer tem?
per, and lt needed a spirit like Caroline Dela
vantfs to face him. She rode in thc circus as
well as performing with the tiger, and she was
altogether the most valuable member of the
company, and was very well paid for her
work. She was eighteen when her lather died,
and within a year of his death she married
Joseph Wavlie, our scene-painter.
I was rather surprised at this marriage, for I
fancied -Caroline might have done better. Joe
was thirty-five if he was a day-a pale, sandy
haired fellow, not much to look at. and by rio
means a genius. But he was awfully fond of
Caroline. He had followed her about like a
dog ever since she came among us, and I
^thought she married bim more out of pity than
love. I told her so one day, but she only
laughed, and said,
" He's too good for me, Mr. Waters, that's
the truth. I don't deserve to bc loved as he
The newly married couple did indeed seem
to be very happy together, lt was a treat to
see Joe stand at thc wing and watch his wife
through her performances, ready to put a
shawl over her pretty white shoulders when
she had dene, or to throw himself between her
and the tiger in case of mischief. She treated
him lu a pretty, patronizing sort ol'way, as If
he had been ever so much younger than her
instead ol twelve years her senior. She used
to stau J upon tiptoe and kiss him before all
the company, sometimes at rehearsals, much
to his delight. He worked like a slave in ihe
bone of Improving his position as he improved
in his art, and he thought nothing too good
for his beautiful young wife. They had very
comfortable lodgings about half a' mile from
the manufacturing town where we were sta?
tioned for the winter months, and lived as well
as simple folks need live.
Our manager was proprietor of a second
theatre, at a seaport town, filly miles away
from the place white we were stationed ; and
when pantomime time was coining on. poor
Joseph Waylie was ordered off to paint the
scenery for this other theatre, much to his
grief, as his work was lUiely to keep bini a
month or six weeks away from bis wife. Ii
was th*r first parting, and the husband felt it
deeplv. He left Caroline to the care of an oM
woman who took thc money, and who ]
fessed a very warm attachment for Mrs. \\
lie, or Madame D?lavant i, as she was callei
Joseph had not been gone much more tl
a week, when I began to take notice o
young officer who was in front every even!
and who watched Caroline's performance v
evident admiration. I saw him one nigh
verv close conversation with Mrs. Mnggiel
the money-taker, and was no! ovcr-pleaset
hear Madame D?lavant i's name incut ionei
the course of their conversation. On the n
night 1 found him loitering about at the sta
door. Ile was a very handsome man, au
could not avoid taking notice of him. Un
quinr, 1 found that Illa name was Jocelyn, t
that he was a captain in the regiment then !
tioned in the town. He was the only son c
wealthymantifacturer, I was told, andi
plenty bf money to throw about.
I had finished my performance earlier tl
usual one night soon alter this, and was Wi
ing for a friend at the stage-door, when Capt;
Jocelyn came up thc dark b<--slreet, smoki
his cigar, and evidently waiting for some 01
I fell back inte the shadow of the door, a
waited, feeling pretty sure that he was on t
watch for Caroline. I was right. She cai
out presently and joined him, putting lier ha
under his arm, as if it were quite a usual thi
for him to be her escort. I followed thora a
little distance as they walked off, and wait
till I saw Joe's wife safe within her own dd
The captain detained her on the doorstep tai
ing for a few minutes, and would fain ha
kept her there Conger, but she dis missed h
with that pretty imperious way sh; had wi
all of us at times.
Now, as a very old friend of Caroline's,
wasn't going to star. 1 this sort of thing : s(
taxed her with il plainly next day, and tc
her no good could come ot any aequainlan
between her and Captain Jocelyn.
"And no hann need come of it cither, j>
sillv old fellow," she said. " I've been used
that sort of attention nil my life. There'd not
inge but tile must innocent flirtation belwei
us." , .
" What would Joe think of such an innocc
flirtation, Caroline !" I asked.
"Joe must learn to put up with such things
she answered. " as long as I do my duty
him. I can't live without excitement, and a
miration, and that sort of thing. Joe ought
know that as well as I do.''
"I should have thought the tiger and tl
horses would have given you enough excit
ment, Caroline,'" I 'said, "without numil
Into worse danger-; than the risk of your life
" But they dou't give me half enough excit
ment," she answered ; and then she took 01
a little watch in a jewelled case, and looked i
it, and then at me, in a liait boastful, half-au:
" Why, what a pretty watch, Carry !" .said
" Is that a present from Joe ?"
"As if you didn't know better than that
she said. * " Country scene-painters can't affor
to buy diamond watches for their wives, M;
I tried to lecture her, but she laughed off m
reproaches ; and I saw her that night with
bracelet on her arm which 1 knew must b
another gift from the captain. He was in
stage-box, and threw her a bouquet of choic
flowers after her scene with the tiger. It wa
the prettiest sight in the world to see her pici
up the flowers ?ind offer them to the grim look
ing animal to smell, and '.hen snatch then
away with a laugh, aud i dire, curtseying t
the audience, and gland g coquettishly tc
wards the box where her dniirer sat applaud
Three weeks went by like this, the captan
In front every night. I kept a close watel
upon the pair, tor 1 thought that, however sin
might carry on her flirtation. Joe's wife wa
true at heart, and would not do him any de
.?berate wrong. She was very young um
rory wilful, but I landed my influence wouk
;o a long way willi her in any desperate
emergency. So I kept an eye upon her an(
ioradmirer, and there was rarely anight I
lid not see the captain's back turned uj>on Mrs
(Taylie's lodgings before I went home to m.\
Joe was not expected home for auotliei
ivcek, and thc regiment was to leave town in
i couple ol days. Caroline told mc this OIK
norning with ?vident pleasure, and I was
)verjoyed to And she did not really care for
" Not a bit, you silly old man," she Raid ; " I
ike his admiration, and like his presents, but
[ know there's no one in the world worth Joe.
"m very g'ad the regiment will be gone when
(oe comes back. I shall have hud my bit of
un, you know, and i shall tell Joe all ubout it;
ind as Captain Jocelyn will have gone to the
>ther end of the world, he can't object to thc
iresents-tributes offered to my genius, as tile
:aptain says in Iiis notes."'
1 felt by no means sure that Joseph Waylie
vould consent to his wife's retaining these tri
mtes, and I told her as much.
"0, nonsense," she said ; 141 can do what I
ike with Joe. He'll DO quite satisfied when
ie sees Captain Jocelyn's respectful letters. I
?ouldn't part with my tarling little watch for
When I went to the theare next night, I
bund the captain standing talking to Caroline
ust outside the stage door. He seemed very
?arnest, and was begging her to do something
ivhlch she said was Impossible. It was his last
light lu the town, you see, and 1 have very
Ittle doubt that he was asking her to run away
?.Ith him-foi 1 believe the man was over head
md ears in love with her-and that she was
putting him off in her laughing coquettish
u I won't take your answer now." he said
rery seriously. " 1 shall wait for you at the
loor to-night. You can't mean to break my
aeart, Caroliue ; the answer must be yes."
She broke away from him hurriedly. "Hark,''
she said, " there's the overture ; and lu half
in hour I must be upon the stage."'
I passed the captain in the dark passage,
and a few paces further on passed some one
else, whose face I could not see, but whose
?hort hurried breathing sounded like that of a
person who had been running. We brushed
against one another as we passed, but the man
look no notice ol' me.
Halfan hour afterwards I was lounging in a
corner of the ring while Caroline went through
her performances with the tiger. Captain
Jocelyn was in his usual place, with a bouquet
in his hand. It was New Year's night, and thc
house was very full. I had been looking all
round for sumo time, when I was startled by
thc sight of a lace in the pit. It was Joseph
Wayllc's face, osby pale anil fixed as death-a
face that meant mischief.
"He luis heard something against his wife,"
I thought, "i'll run round to him directly I
can get out of the ring, and make matters
square. Some confounded scandal-monger
has got hold of him, and hits been poisoning
his mind about Caroline ami thc captain." I
knew lhere hud been u good deal of talk in the
theatre about the two-ulk which I had done
my best to put down.
Captain Jocelyn threw his bouquet, which
was received with a coquettish smile and a
bright upward glance that seemed to express
profound delight. 1 knew that this was mere
stage-play ; but how must it have looked to
the Jealous man, glaring willi fixed eyes from
lils place at the back ol' tho pit ! I turned to
look at him as the curtain fell upon the stage,
but he was gone. He was going round to
speak to his wife, no doubt. I left the ring
Immediately, and went to prepare her for the
Interview, and, if needful, to stand between
her and ber husband's anger.
I found her ut the wing, trifling with her bou?
quet in an absent way.
"Have you seen Joe ?"' I asked.
"No,"' she answered, -He hasn't como back,
has he ? I didn't expect him for a week."
"I know, my dear ; but he was in front just
now, looking as pale as a ghost. I'm afraid
some one luis been talking to him about von."
She looked rather frightened when I" said
"They can't say any ??arm of me. if they
speak the truth," she said. "I wonder Joe
didn't come straight to me though, instead of
going to the front of thc house."
We were both wanted in thc ring. I helped
Caroline through her equestrian performance,
and saw that she was a little nervous ami
anxious about Joe's return. She diu Dot favor
the captain with many more smiles that even?
ing, and she told me tu be ready for lu >t the
stage door ten minutes before!lie perf ince
"I want to give Captain Jocelyn the p."
she said ; "but 1 daresay Joe will 'come tc mc
before I'm ready."
Joe did not uppear. however, and she weat
home with me. I met thc captain on my way
buck, and he asked me if 1 had been seeing
Mrs. Waylie home. I told him yes, and thal
her husband had come ho ne. "Joe had not
arrived at the lodgings, however, when ('ani?
line went in. and I returned io the theatre to
look for him. The stage door was slim when
I went back ; so I supposed that Joe had gone
home by another way, ur was out drinking. I
went t<> ??ed that night very uneasy in my mind
about Caroline anti her husband.
There was m carly rehearsal of a now int-r
lude next morning, and Caroline came intu the
theatre live minutes after I got there. Sile
looked pale and ill. Her husband had not
"I think it must have been a mistake of
yours abonl Joe," she said to me. "I don't
think it could have bee'a him von saw in the v'.i
i lili ^
"I saw him as Barely as I see you at this mo?
ment, my dear," I answered. "There's no
possibility of a mistake. .loo came back last
night, and Joe was in the pit while you were
on with the tiger."
This lime site looked really frightened, she
put her hand to ber heart suddenly, aiul began
'.Why didn't he come home to mc J" she
cried, "and where did he hide hiinscll los!
.Tin afraid bc must have gone out cpon tho
drink, my dear."
"Joe never drinks," she-?i tswered.
While she stood looking at me willi that pale
scared face, one of our young men can: .' run?
ning towards us.
"You're wanted, Waters,'* lie said shortly.
"Upstairs In thc painting room.'1
"Joe's room !" t ried Caroline. "Then he has
come back. I'll go with you."
She was following meas I crossed thc Stage,
but the young man tried lo stop her.
'.You'd better nol conic just yet, Mrs. Way
lie." he said in a hurried way that wa< strange
to him. "It's only Waters that's wanted on a
matter of business." And then, as Caroline
followed close upon us.he took hold ol my arm
and whispered, ''Don't UM ITT come."
I tried to keep her back, bul it was no use.
"I know ifs my husband who wants you,"
she said. "They've been making mischief
about tue. You shan't keep me away from
We were on the narrow stau - leading to the
painiiutr room by thia ti::::1. I couldn't keep
Caroline olf. She pushed past both td' us,
and ran into the room beforowu could stop
"Serve her right," muttered my companion.
"It's all her doing."
I heard her scream a< I c?tiie to the door.
There was a little crowd itt thc painting room
lound a quiet Agu re lying on a bench, and
there wa.> a ghastly |>ool of blood upou thu
lloor. Joseph \Vayllc lind cul bis throat
"He must bare done it lost night,'1 said the
manager. "Th . -.' a letter for his wife on thc
table yond"- ts t ..? you. Mrs. Wayllc A bad
business, [sn t it ! I'o?r Joseph V
Caroline knell down by the side of the bench
and stopped there on lier knee.-, as still as
death, lill the room was clear of ali bul me.
"Thev think I deserve this. Waters," she
said, lilting her while face from tin- dead man's
shoulder, where fdic had bidden it ; "but I
meant no hann. Give me the le!ter."
"You'd better wait a bit. my dear." I said.
"No, no ; give it me a: once, please."
I gave her the letter. It was very short
The scene painter had come back to the thea?
tre In time to hear some portion of thal Inter?
view between Captain Jocelyn ?iud his wile.
He evidently had believed her much more guil?
ty than Bbc was.
"I think you must know how I loved you,
Caroline," he wrote ; "1 can't face life with the
knowledge ?hatyou've been false lo nie."
Of course there was au Inquest. We worxod
it 60 that the Jury gave a verdict of temporary
insanity, and poor Joe was bnried decently in
the cemetery outside the town. Caroline sold
the watch and thc bracelet Hutt Captain Joce?
lyn had given her. In order to pay for her hus?
band's funeral. She was very quiet, and went
on with the performances as usual a week after
Joe s death, but I could see a great change in
her. The rest of the company were very hard .
upon her. as I thought, blaming her for her I
husband's sleuth, and she was under a cloud, ;
as it were ; but she looked as handsome ?ts 1
ever, and went through all her performances J
in her old daring way. I'm sure, though, '
that she grieved sincerely lor Joes death, :
and that she had never meant to th) him 1
We travelled all through (hcncxl summer, 1
and late in November went back to Homer- '
sleigh. Caroline had seemed happier while '
we were away, 1 thought and when we were ?
going back, she confessed as much to mr. ?
"Uvegot a kind ol' dread ol' Beclngthal
place again, she said ; "i'm always dreaming '
id' the painting room ?ts it looked that .latin.try '
morning with the cold light streaming in upon I
that dreadful llgnre on the bench. The room's |
scarcely been out ol' my dreams one night
since I've been away irom Ilomcrslcigh : and <
now I dread going back as If- us If bc was shut
up lhere." '
The room was not a particularly convenient
one. and had been used for lumber after Joe's ?
death. The mau who came after him didn't t
.are to paint there by himself all <!.iy lonu.
imthe amt morning of our return, Caroline <
went up und looked in al the dusty heap of I
lisused stage furniture and broken properties. '
I met her coming away from thu room. <
"(), Mr. Waters." she said lo me with real f
reeling. "if he bad only wailed to hear me i
<peak for myself! They all think I deserved 1
ivhat happened,and perhaps I did. as far as i!
iras a punishment for my frivolity* bu; Joe <
lidu't deserve such a fate. 1 know it was their a
malicious talk that did the mischief." c
I fancied after this thal lier looks changed
for the worse, and that she hail a kind ol' n-rv- ;
>U8 way in going through her equestrian per- t
formalices, as if there was u fever upon her. I i
Couldn't Judge so well how she went through
the tiger act, as I was never on the stage with 1
her, bul the brute seemed as submissive a-> i
L'ver. On Hie brat day ol the year she asked i
?ur manager to let her off for the next night. .
"Ifs the anniversary of my husband's death," I
she said. 1
"I didn't know you were s<> precious fond of <
him." he answered with a sneer. "No, Mrs. <
Waylie. we can't afford to dispense with your t
services to-morrow night. The tiger act is I
one of our strong features willi the gallery, I
and I expect u tull house for New Year's 1
She begged hin: very hard to let her off. but I
it was im use. There was no rehearsal on ?
New Year's morning, and she went lo the lit- .'
tie cemetery .where Joe was buried, a three
mill's' wal!; in the cold and rain, lu the even- |
lng, when she came lo the wing her ryes were
blighter than usual, and she shivered a good '
deal, more than 1 liked to see.
"1 think I must have caught cold in the
cemetery to-day," she said to me when 1 no- 1
ticed this. "1 wish 1 could have kept this
night sacred-this one night-to my husband's :
memory. Ile has been Tn my mind su mucli
She went on, and I stood al the wing watch?
ing her. The audience applauded vociferously, I
hui she did not make her accustomed curtsey; ]
and sile went about her work in a listless way j
that wa- very different from her usual spirited
manner. Thc animal scented to know this,
and when she h.id go', about halt-way through ?
lier tricks with lum, he began to respond to
her word ul command ?ti a sulky unwilling
manner timi I didn't like. This nm ie ber angry
and she used lier light whip more freely tliau
One id' the tiger's concluding tricks way a
leap through a garland ol' bowers which Caro?
line held for him. She was kneeling in the
centre of thc stage with this garland inlier
hands, ready for the animal's spring, when lier
eyes wandered lo thu flout of Ibu house, and
she rose suddenly with a shrill scream, and
her arms outstretched wildly. Whether the
sulky brute thought thal she was guhig lo
strike him or not. I don't know ; but he sprang
savagely ut her as she rose, and in the next
moment she wa? lying on the ground helpless,
and the audience screaming with terror. 1
rushed upon the staL'e with hulf-u-du/.cii
others, nnd we hud tho brute muzzled ami
roped in a few breathless moments, but not
before he had toni Ci roi i lie's cheek and
shoulder with his claws. She was insensible
when we carried her olf the Binge, and she
TO confined to bur bed ihm- months after ibe
accident with brain fever. When she came
tynong us again, she hail lost every vestige of
color, and her face bad that set look which you
mus) have observed just now.
"The flight of her encounter with the tiger
gave her that look." 1 said ; "I don't much
wonder at it."
"Nol a bit td' il." answered the clown.
"That's the curious part of the story. ?She
didn't think anything of her skirmish with the
tiger, though it quite spoilt brr beauty. What
frightened lier was Hie sight ol' her husband
silting In the pit ns ho had sat there a year
before, on the night of his death, of course
you'll say it was a delusion, mid so say I. Cul
she declares she saw him sitting amongst the
crowd -amongst them, and yet ma une of
them, somehow, with a sort of ghastly light
upon his tat e that marked him mit from thu
rust ll was the sight of him th u made her
drop her garland and give that scream and
rust! that frightened lilt' tiger. You see she
had been brooding upon his death for a lon"
time, und no doubt .-he conjured up liisimuge
out of her own brain, as it were. She's never
been quite the same since thal Ici er : bul she
has plenty of pluck, and there's scarcely any?
thing she can't do now with Baber thu tiger,
and I lld uk she's fonder of him than of any
human creature, lu spite of (he scar on ber
-Indiana, willi delicate gallantry, does not
provide for thc imprisonment ol' a lady who
may be fined for any offence, and gives no
other m"ans of recovering th.? mulct ir thc
person upon whom it is Imposed does not see
flt to pay it.
-A Cincinnati paper tells a story of a female
who absconded, and concludes the account
with this statement, which ls uncomplimentary
to the detectives : "When ? was trusted to lb?
detectives, it cam.- also io our reporter's euri.?
A NARROW ESCAPE.
What a perfect model of a young man that
one must be who can say with truth. "I have
novar done a foolish thing !" I feel no tear ot
having my wont doubted when I say that in
my time I have done a good many, one of
which nearly resulted in my being prevented
trom ever relating tho following story:
Paris, OS Albert Smith used lo say. Is a
"rai her jolly place-ral her funny.'' but i't has its
serious side.' There are grand Rues and ma?
jestic Boulevards; but there are also tho
wretched alleys and cnls-d'-xac; the noble
palaces and the ruinous crowded houses, each
a perfect warren: Hie acts in the sunshine of
broad day. and itu: deeds of darkness.
"Take caro of yourself," was the last laugh?
ing address of my friends, as I look my ticket
at London Bridge Station-an address us
laughingly replicato: and that same evening,
willi a companion. I was strolling down the
Boulevard des Italiens, smoking a cigar and
enjoving the novel sights around; the news
vender's kiosk; the tall, white stone houses,
with their bright Venetian shutters; the hand?
some shops, with their costly contents; the gay
throng ol' promenaders; thc numberless little
marbie top tables, and thc cool way In which
people sat out ol' doors to sip their caf? noire,
(nu sucrer, or pin de Bordeaux, Here was a
couple playing dominoes; there a quartette,
evidently tradesfolk, with a moderator-lamp,
seated id a table outside their shop dooi\
happily engaged in a Fren .li version of
short whist. Now the pointed-moustached,
tight-coated, cocked-hatted sergeant de ville,
with his long thin sword, would take" one's
attention; now one of the many sliabby
uniformed, but active, cat-like, sun-browned
soldiers, one and all carri ing their arms. Then
ihe white cap OT a sister of mercy, or the
starched plaits of a bonne, would diversify the
throng. Everywhere there was something
new to lake thc attention, while not the least
evident was thc love of our neighbors for dis?
play, as shown iu gilded railings, bright hues,
and above all in Howers clustering round so
many windows. Ko gas-flaming, heavy-look?
ing public houses hore, but elegant marble ?md
velvet lurnished caf?s resplendent with mir?
rors, white and gold, and overlooked by a pre?
siding deity In tho shape of a dn.'te de. camp,
toil', throned amidst fruit, flowers and wine,
codee urns and confectionery, herself a very
model of the latest Paris fashions.
I slept thu! night ina confusion of ideas,
strangest ol which was a belief that Paris was
asort of a fairy-land, where all was perfect]
and I woke the next morning toa capiiul hotel
brc.ikfitst of long bread, eaf?-au-lait, oufs frais.
and a string band, recalling home, outside the
window with the strains of thc "Lancer's
Quadrilles." Then came a round of sight-see?
ing-cathedral, church, picture gallery, bridge,
fountain, palace, opera, theatre, and review.
We lunched and dined a la Francaise, and
pretended to like the French potage and their
wines. We plavcd billiards at the cafes, smok?
ed ba l cigars."made ourselves ill. tired our?
selves out, and all the while avowed that wc
were in the very height af enjoyment.
At the end of ? fortnight, Paris did not. seem
half so bright a place; and certainly, no better
than London. One dav I spent upon a sofa
leading the Times and Calignanl; and that
>arne evening uv companion actually hinted
,? Its being almost time to think of going back
home. Bul at the table d'h?te we encountered
i young fellow-countryman who put us
through a sort of catechism, upon our saying
that wo were about tired of the pla.o, ending
t?y telling us that wc had seen untiling yet.
ind promising to initiale us into a little inure
>f Parisian lite and manners.
Wc assented to his acting as guide; and lie
jcrtalnly did Initiate US-or rather, gave US a
L-Sson-In Parisian life and manners-one of
which proved quite sufficient to satisfy me;
ind two days after 1 was congratulating uiy
*eir upon being safely at home.
It was about Ki o'clock at night that, after
?.?'ending an hour or two amid thc cafe ch'tn
ants In thc Champs Elysees, our new friend
ed us up and down several streets, till ho
mused al what seemed to bc a private house.
..Von ought not to go back." lie .-aid, "willi
iiil seeing a /ambling house."
..(lilli don't know." I said, hesitating: "I
lon'l much care for that." .
..Von need not either of you play." was the
.eply. "We'll Just go in for half an hour, and
lied have a look ul something else."
And then wc entered a well lit passage, a
loor closed behind us. shutting us in like- Hies
ii a trap, and a well-dressed waiter ushered us
nto a brilliantly lighted salon, wherein were
?ollectcd some twenty well-dressed men.
teated and standing round a centre table cov
>rcd with a green cloth, while another waiter
rinded round coffee, ices and champagne.
..Don't refuse thc refreshments," whispered
mr guide. "It would look strange. They are
ill free-found by the proprietor, who re
:ou|)8 himself out of his visitors' ]c?ses."
A nodded, and partook of some champagne,
is did my companions; when, eager to sec ail
hat was golug on, we walked up to the rouge
.l-noir table, ami looked on.
I he stakes were not very high, because it
vas so early In the evening, so our guide said;
nen winning and losing various small sums
vith utmost nonchalance, in effect, thc game
teemed then tame and uninteresting, and
lioroughly wanting in that excitement ol
vhich I had so orten read. There were 1 lie
?rici of croupier and tailleur, and the faint
Mick and chink of franc and five-franc pieces
ts they were raked together; but there was no
loree aspect, no knit brows, or sweat-bedewed
'orehead: all was calm and gentlemanly; and 1
,va> wondering how long it would be ere my
.onipanions were ready to go, when our new
Vieiul took a live-franc piece out ol his pocket,
Itakcd il. and saw it melt away. Another
.hared its fate, and another, and another.
"Always my link!" he stid, coolly, as he
lurned to" me. " Lost a louis ; that's as far as
I shall go. Ah ! the disease has proved Infec?
tious ; I see your friend has taken it."
I turned, willi surprise, at his words ; for I
had nut missed my cid schoolfellow, Hivers-a
quiet, steady, thoughtful man, whom I should
have thought the last to have slakedu shilling
at a game ol' chance ; but. sure enough, there
he was, placing his money Ilivt on one color,
then on the oilier ; and, as I drew near to his
elbow, it seemed always changing al the right
time : for he invariably won.
If I had before found the proceedings tame,
they were now most exciting; thc game seem?
ed entirely different since my friend bad com?
menced playing, and 1 watched each stake,
and listened to euch cry of44 Rouge,"or "Noir,"
with an eagerness thal I couldo?ly have pitied
It almost seemed as though my friend s suc?
cess had been the signal foran increasing
thirst for Hie game, lor the stakes gradually
grew higher; gold began to make its appear?
ance, bright and yellow, among the sil?
ver: inen who had been smoking, drinking and
Chatting about the room door, asl had done,
drew nearer lo the table, towatcli the proceed?
ings; the murmur of i on versal lon ceased, ami
play seemed now fully the order of the night.
Wo li.ul been i;. the gambling house now
nulle an hour and a hall, when, after impa?
tiently hinting several Hines that il was quite
time to be gone, our friend, who had brought
us there, draw Rivers from thu table, saying,
"Von have won enough now-take my advice
and come away;" but Rivers only shook bim
oil", willi a half 1 High, and returned lo the
table after hostil) swallowing a glass of chant
Meanwhile, our guide to the mysteries of
Paris turned to me.
"Von had better bring him away now," lie
said; "perhaps you have more influence over
him. 1 don't consider this the safest of places."
l'eeling uneasy, I turned to Rivers, ami
whispered to him that it was time to go, bm
only to get for an answer an Impatient shrug.
(?ur friend stayed some little time longer,
ami tlieu. unperceived by me. lie left thc
room, for the feeling ol' interest in my friend
Rivers1 play had now grown most intense.
since lie was still winning, ami it was os much
asl could do t<i keep from placing a small
stake upon Hie table myself; for several times
over J hud seen him place money in bis pocket,
and he hail, besides, a goodly heap on the
table before him.
At last I grew as deeply Intent upon the
game as was Rivers himself, ami watched each
venture and it? result with an excitement univ
lobe explained by the engrossing nature (if
Por quito an hour my friend went on win?
ning, men ceasing their own ventures to walch
those of their more fortunate competitors; and
now il was thal I could see greed, avarice,
cunning, a host of evil passions, Quabing from
tiie eyes around, us Rivers' heap of mouey
grew larger and larger.
The lido of Rivers' success turned at last,
ami as I watched him I saw his brow knit
tighter and tighter, as with Inconceivable
rapidity his pile of money melted away, almost
without a single renovating coup. Then tlrsl
one pocket was applied to ami then another
un. with a laugh full of disappointment and
annoyance, he turned from Hie lable, walked
up to the buffet, and tossed down a tumbler of
It required almost an effort to tear myself
away from thc table, where lhere was au ex
eited bu//, as of hungry Hies for a l> w minnies,
and then gaming recommenced; bul I fol?
lowed Rivers lo lin- buffet, where lu
thoughtfully Btu niling.
'.Ought lo luve len oil' sooner, eh t" he said;
"or else nut to have begun." he mutteret!.
"Bot where are yon going?'
"Only back to thc table for a little while,"
"No, no; let's bc off now. I'm sick of this !
"I stayed all this while lor your pleasure,"
replied;' "I think you might stay a lillie whil
"I can't stand it," said Rivers; "and I ar
"What ?" I exclaimed. "You have not los
any of your own money ?"
"Every franc." he said, Wt te riv: "and so wil
you. if you go near that cursed table."
I hesitated for a few moments, but the temp
tatton was too Strong' and, probably seein;
thal hesitation, a waiter approached and ol
fered me some wine. I could keep back ni
longer; Hie low talking al tito table sccmct
like whispers calling me to go and sweep up ;
glittering pile of money. Mammon himscl
summoned me to his worship, and f.-eli.ngcer
tain that I saw tailings in my companion'!
method of play, I walked up to th? table, threw
down a five-franc piece and saw it rakei
I threw another upon thc cloth, and thai
also was swept away.
lu a sort of Intoxication, brought OH by thc
excitement, I staked two pieces this time, and
tiley also disappeared. Haifa napoleon shared
their late; then a napoleon: when River
caught me by thc arm, it being his turn now
to play the part of mentor and to whisper to
..Monsieur can play for himself, sir. Why
do you interfere ?" said a swarthy individual
willi a short, black beard and very close cut
"I'll come soon," I said, angrily. '-I can do
no worse than you have done.'"
Rivers shrugged his shoulders and turned
away to lake another glass of champagne from
the wailer, when the fierce-looking "French?
man whispered to me. "Play high, monsieur;
you are likely to have la bonheur. Thc tickle
goddess likes not humble offerings."
Turning impatiently from my would-be coun?
sel lo-, whom I set down as belonging to thc
proprietary, 1 again threw down a napoleon,
and lost. Another-another-another. In
live minutes I had come down to my last
coin, and I stood for a few moment* thought?
ful and pondering. Should I let that go With
the others or not? Why should 1 refrain? I
asked myself bitterly; my folly could bc no
greater; and, almost passionately, 1 threw it
down, half turning, at the same time, to leave
the table, and hurry from the house.
"Won. by .love !" a voice whispered at my
ear; and Twas once more in funds to carry oh
the warfare, or to leave, whichever I liked.
I was about to pursue the latter course, when
a hnlf-eontemptuoits glance from the French?
man's eye turned me back, and I staked again
and again; doubled my stake, and won again;
again doubled and won; so that, in the course
of a few minutes, I had piled up a goodly heap
ol' live franc pieces before me.
"(live this gentleman some wine," the
Frenchman said, In a low tone to a walter,
and a glass was handed to me, but, Impatient?
ly motioning the man aside, I plunged, as it
were, Into the overpowering excitement ef the
play, winning constantly, and with a feeling os
ot some wild fever thrilling through my veins.
Twice over I believe that Rivers eagerly
begged of me to leave, but I refused, anti
played on, although at thc time there was a
strange desire upon nie to leave off and to
carry away my ill-gotten gains. Every stake
I laid.down was successful, and In a short time
I round that the greater part of the occupants
of thc room were now watching my success
with tis much eagerness us they had previously
gazed upon my companion.
once l stopped as if lo take breath, and in
thc brief moments which ensued I seemed to
look upon the prenable result-the glittering
heap gradually melting away, and taking with
it my lust shilling; and yet 1 could not restrain
myself, bul played on again, still winning,
with an insensate thirst for more of the wild
excitement ever growing upon me.
still I won; till, trembling for my gains, I
began to thrust thc coins into different pock?
ets, lessening the heap us much as I could,
before staking the largest sum that had yet
been upon the table that evening.
I placed it upon Hie red, and it seemed ns if
the result would never be known. In effect,
there was quite a pause, and then came the
announcement, "IlougegagneP lu calm, Im?
pressive tones; and again I swept up the
money, before a SCO rc ol' covetous lookers-on.
.. lliu this once !" 1 muttered to myself, pre?
paring to slake the whole (d' iuy last gains;
when, in a qidcl manlier, as If there was no
thingal all in the announcement, thc propri?
etor informed thc company that Hie play was
at an end for thal evening.
" Monsieur has broken thc hank." said a soft
volce-ul my ear, and, turning, there stood the
I started from this man as if I had been
stung; and, hastily gathering up my treasure
so much that my pockets could hardly hold it
I turned my attention towards leaving the
place, already half emptied of Us occupants.
Hut my eyes Brat sought for Rivers, who, to my
great surprise, I saw lolling back upon afau
?ciul. evidently half usleep.
?.Monsieur, your friend ls tired," said the
Frenchman, who seemed determined to force
upon me lils society. "The sall?baa been hot,
and disappointment weaned bia bruin. Mon?
sieur would do well to rest too."
" lu HIT country, slr," I said, turning upon
him sharply, and not, I am afraid, speaking in
verv pure French, " we onij take advice from
.. Pr?cis?ment," he said, with a smile, and a
shrug ol his shoulders; "il is as a friend I
offer wu my advice."
Ile pushed his face close to mine, as he spoke
now in a whisper.
"The hour is hue ; thc streets are unsafe
Twenty men, desperate with their losses, have
seen you win-win mu fui. as I never saw play?
er Win belore. ll would be a temptation
throwing temptation lu their way-pulling bad
ideas in men's minds, when they would other?
wise go quietly home, ls this Just, Monsieur ?
Are mine thc words ol'friend or enemy ? Take
tn v advice, if it seem a friend's, and slay here ;
il it seem aa enemy's, rouse your comrade, and
go in peace.
Ile lapped my breast wiih his Ongera, which
came in contad with thc napoleons in my pock
el. and smiled meaningly, hui with a leer in his
eye- which troubled me, and made me tum
uneasily to look at Hivers.
Crossing to him. 1 shook his arm, hui only
obtained a few unintelligible mutterings,
though I earneslly besought him lo wake up.
His arm dropped nerveless le his side, his head
sank lower upon ins bosom, mid breathing
stentoriously the while, he seemed to bc
plunged in a deep, heavy sleep, from which
liiere was no awakening him.
What could 1 do! What did it mean-Hivers
being so fast asleep ? Had he been plied willi
wine ? or was il possible that he could have
been drugged ?
I half laughed at what seemed to be the ab?
surdity ol' the though;, full of romance as it
appeared : but the next moment a cold chill
ran through meas i recalled Hie words of our
friend who had brought us there,-"I don't
Consider this the .safest ul'places !"
What should l do run all risks and go,, or
run all risks and stay ? The danger seemed
e(pial on either hand ; while how could I go
and leav? my companion in the hands of these
peuple ? I cursed the fully that made me slay -
that had brought tue to such a place ; for
what, alter all, were my winnings compared
with life .' How could I tell wlml would bc my
fate before morning, unarmed. In a strange
house, in a sinnige eily, and surrounded by
people who knew tue io be in possession of a
heavy sum ol' money ? lt was Impossible lo
help a shudder coursing through my veins as I
recalled thc Frenchman's sinister words re?
garding temptation. What ifit tempted him !
Hie man ol'whom 1 felt an instinctive dread,
and one evidently connected in some way with
Hie establishment, for while the others had
gone lie still lingered behind.
.. Would Monsieur like a bed here ?" said thc
croupier, smiling us hu advanced, bowing and
rubbing his banda,
.. Ye-, .- (id thu swarthy Frenchman, smiling
in reply ; " Monsieur thinks it unsafe to pass
thrungli thc streets hy night with so large a
sum ; and of course Monsieur would not liku
to leave il till morning In our care. All ! no ;
Monsieur will stay all night, as will his friend,
ls it nol so ?"
I hesitated for a moment, ?ind then my decis?
ion was taken. I would stay ; for I should be
us sale. I thought, in a room'to myself, as being
dogged I brough the dark streets, of whosu
course I was almost ignorant. Ami besides, I
was young and strong, uud could ru?nala oa
my guard for thc rest id' the night, ll would
not be so very long now until morning.
.. Yes." i said, wiih ?ut effort, for my mouth
fell hot and dry, and a lump seemed li> rise in
my throat ; "getmea room ready, uud help
my friend to ii."
.. Hut wu have nu double rooms. Monsieur,"
said the swarthy Frenchman; "your friend
shall lune a room to himself, ami he will be
well by morning : he would take rather too
much champagne. Hut it is light, and will .- (ion
pass off. Ilere, Jean. Francois, assist this
gentleman io the blue room : give Monsieur,
here. Hi? yellow chamber. Hut Monsieur will
md retire yet ? Ile would like a slight refresh?
ment : is nut so ?"
I mano no opposition to our being separated
for I could not, sflur ul!, think that anything
wrong would berhll Hivers, penniless and with?
out jewelry ns he was: bat I steadily refused
I to partake of any repast, dreading thal I might
be Inveigled into takrffg something mor
tent than wine-such a draught, in fact,
felt sure must have been given to mr fri
and asking for a chamber candlestick, I
self superintended the removal of Rivers
bedchamber before seeking my own; om
?p, upon the fourth door.
The swarthy Frenchman, who now mad(
scruple about letting it bc seen that he
about to pass thc night there himself, badi
farewell in the most impressive man ncr,
plauding, in a whisper, my resolve, whlcl
declared to be "biensa/je ::' ami then I ch
my door, and stood, candle in hand and i
beating heart, alone.
I could hear the heavy throb, throb of
heart as it seemed to force the blood thro
my veins witta a power that made them tin
and it was in vain that I told myself tbs
was from the ascent. Such Haltering und
could not be received, and I was fain to c
fess that, trembling, anxious-nay, in dca
fear- I was wondering whether I should
the morning light.
How I cursed my weakness again and ay
for coming, and then for stooping to the Im
gence of a weak and insatiate passion. W
after all, had I stayed? Rivers would li:
been quite as safe without me.
But this was no time for childish murmur;
against my folly. I was In a sore straight
my fancy had not been magnifying the dang
ami rousing myself to the emergency, I p
cecded to examine thc room before securi
The task was soon performed. I had but
look under the bed, and my examination v,
nearly at an end. No cupboards-no pk
where an enemy could be concealed-no s
omi means of egress.
I went to the window ami throw it open
look down upon a long, dark, deserted stn
at an immense distance below me, and I sin
dcred as I thought of the consequence of a fi
There was the usual Venetian shutters,
eit her side, fastened back, and a light appear
here and there In some of the houses opposi
while above my head the stars peered do\
from the soft summer night's sky.
Leaving the window partly open to adn
thc cool, gentle breeze, I now turned my i
tendon to the door, to find thar, there was
lock bul no key. There was, however, a lar;
bolt at the top of the door, which I slipped ?
sily imo its staple ; and then, as quickly as
could, moving lt only a few inches at a tim
I contrived to place the head of the bed again
the door, and then sat down, panting, to thin
I wanted to take out thc money and to tie
all np together-silver, gold and billets
banque-in my handkerchief, so tint if tl
worst came to the worst I might throw it fro
the window ; for I was determined that
should not go to those who 1 felt sure intend*
to attack me. No ; they should not have it,
thought, for I would throw it through the op*
window. But, no : I dared not take it fro
my pockets ; thc clinking would, perhaps, 1
heard, and, if ray fears were baseless, woul
after all, excite the cupidity of some one in tl
Of course I did not undress, but sat. for a lor
while debating as to whether I should put oi
my candle-a point decided by the short pie?
burning out, so that soon I sat upon the eds
.1 the bed, in utter darkness, listening attei
tively to every sound, and seeing. In luiagin
lion, the swarthy Frenchman, stiletto armei
?lowly ascending the stairs.
I had no difficulty In keeping awake, for no
nerves were strained to their greatest renslo
with the excitement, and a cold damp colic
ted upon my forehead and lu the palms of ir
hands, as at last, after several false alarms,
heard a faint breathing noise apparently ju:
outside thc door.
Hising softly and with my heart beating a
most to suffocation, I stole to the wjudov
and stood once more listening, as there cam
a faint, gliding, grating noise; and though
could see nothing, I felt that one of the pane
of the doer was so contrived that it woul
slide back, and I seemed to be gazing the nc;
moment upon a hand thrust through, tot
laid upon lue bolt.
The darkness was Intense, bat I was, I fe I
right; lor there came the grating of the iroi
ami the bolt was softly snot back from th
staple, and thc door pressed inward aguins
What could I do ? That I should be ram
dered If I stayed lhere unarmed, 1 felt assure*
and even if I could elude my assailants in lb
dark, it would only be for a few minutes; for
must bc hunted down at last. There was n
escape. I told myself; and as the bed-tea
creaked with the pressure against it. 1 knei
that it must in a few minutes at most give wa
sufficiently fora man to pass in, and thci
would coiiuj the strugglo*for life.
A stiffening groan forced itself from m
breast, and a great trembling seized upon mi
but even then I dbl not think to offer th
money ns a ransom for my liberty; but hurrle
from one end of thc room to the other, i
search of a way of escape. Then I stoppe
short; for there was a whispering outside, an
a I bought hnd occurred to me. Could I escap
by the window ?
"Four stories high, and thc cruel stones b<
But thc bed-clothes-could I knot them tc
get her, and slide down ?
A moment's rellectiou told me that thc Ide
was madness* and I leaned out to listen
there was any one below to whom I might af
peal for help; but ali wits still and my tongo
seemed to refuse its office. Almost mad wit
fear, I climbed out on the window sill an
I was on tho top floor, but the parapet wa
above my reach, unless-yes-tho Venetia
shutters-each a very ladder-every thin bar
sien to climb to safety, if
Ves-if they would*bear my weight.
I shuddered as at that moment I seemed t
see the shutter torn from Its hinges, and wit
me clinging to it, falling-falling with a fearfi
crush lo the pavement beneath, and men gall
ering round to gaze upon the sickening spet
Hui it was my only chance for safety; an
upon thc roof i miglit travel on and on, an
elude my pursuers, . If they could reach m
refuge by any oilier way; for I telt assured thu
they would not attempt it by my route. Bu
would ihe shutter bear this weight ?
I tried one with my left band, and it shoo
ominously. I stepped quickly to the other an
tried it. Finner, certainly; bul what a fra
road lo safely ? Would it not be better to sto
and encounter my enemies, who were now I
the room '
II seemed Ihe lessor evil lo trust to my ac
tlvlly to reach the roof; and softly placing on
tool upon the wood work I reached the top c
the slimier and drew myself up from the win
dow sill, just as a mau leaned out and utterci
an exclamation ol horror. But I could nc
look down at him, no" heed Iiis warning cr,
to descend, for all mi '.fight was now upo;
thc shulter, supported by Its binges and th
holder which kepi il back against the sion
wall. 1 felt il giving way beneath me; bu
luking another step I threw np ono hand, a
willi a spasmodic effort I drew np my body ii
what I knew to be my last struggle for life
and that hand rested upon the parapet; tin
next instan! my oilier hand was by its side
my feet, aided mc again for an instant, am
then, with a sharp crack, the shutter gave way
hung to my feel lora few moment.-, when, a
1 kicked them free and clung lhere, I heard i
fall, after what seemed a lifetime of horror
upon the pavement below.
The effect ot that crash below was almos
sufficient to make me relax my hold, sc
strangely did il jar upon my nefves; bul nn
lingers seemed lo grow, as it were, into lin
shine, ami 1 hung al the full stretch of mi
muscles, motionless, for a few moments, when
forcing myself by pure mental effort to think
of my duty to light to the last. I bogan toilrav?
myself up, rising slowly till my eliiii was npoi
the parapet edge, bul "willi lib' weight of lin
money seeming to drag me down; then om
bund was readied forward lo get a better hold,
the oilier followed, and I hardly knew how.
bur in a battle of mimi, muscle lind weight, 1
Struggled up, my feet just lending a slight aie
as they found a crevice between Hie slom
courses, and then 1 was lying paining inila
gutter, feeling that I had used every atom ol
vital power in the efforts of those few minutes,
Foi lunately 1er me, there could have been
no means of exil by trap or door on the roof;
and aller lying where I was for a few minutes.
I rrawled uloug for sonic distance, going loot
by tool cautiously, for fear of falling; and (lien.
once more completely exhausted. I lay. so thal
I should have been ai the mercy of a child.
Daylight found me by an unfastened trap,
through which I dared not descend: but I sat
by it iill thc noise from tho street told that
Pails was awakening into life once more,
when, lo my trreat relief. I was able lo attract
Hie notice of a woman servant, who, terribly
frightened at first, was pacified by a napoleon,
and consented to lead me down stairs to the
Iront door; but nul without feat and trem?
bling, in spile of my assurances thal I was no
A lucre bore me to my hotel: and upon
reaching my room, t J m> great surprise, 1 was
followed liiere by Hivers, pale ami ill, and
confused of intellect. He had found himself,
he told me, on the Pont Neuf, and had been
wandering about for hours lill tho hotel had
been opened. As tu how he came there, all
was blank; his last recollection was seeing me
at the table in the gambling house, and then
bis going and drinking al the buffet from a
glass banded to him by the obsequious French?
I was too ill to relate my own adventure,
and the next morning, When somewhat better.
I waa seated with my friend at breakfast, he
told me that his head waa confused, as if fron
some opiate; while in thc course of conversa?
tion It came out that our guide to Pans had
left by the early train that morning.
And now what were we todo ? To place our
case in the hands of the police, or to make our
way hence to London the richer by nearly two
thousand pound* ? For my part I felt nervous
and unsafe: and Unding my friend willing,
after packing my snoil in a little valise, fearing
fo place it in the hands of a banker, though
almost afraid of the money itself, we started
for the railway station, gkid to be on the way
There was a little crowding during the get?
ting ot tickets, and for a moment I, hiv friend,
and our luggage were separated. When we
met again the valise was gone.
Once more there arose the question, should
we reter our case to the police, or hurry home ?
Perhaps we were wise, perhaps foolish.
Judge you who read. We lelt strange, un?
nerved, and that even our lives were un sale,
and we gladly drew breath once more at home,
both feeling that with such unscrupulous and
watchful enemies on the qui vive om- best plan
was to be content aud thankful for a narrow
HOUSEKEEP I XV IX ROME.
Haw Americans Live at a Cheap Rate.
Anne Brewster writes from Rome to the
Philadelphia Bulletin :
The luxurious Americans', with their heavy,
cumbersome machinery of housekeeping, have
no idea of the true philosophy of that sort of
business as it ls understood by the Southern
European. It is all useless for otir dear country
people to come to Rome and sigh after the
seventeen kinds of hot bread, the delicious
oysters aud terrapins, the whiskey that "never
hurt anybody," and declare that there ls no?
place like an American home; then return,
the men to their down-town luncheon, the
women to endless spiritual scufiles with Brid?
get or Gretchen, Patrick or Fritz-to enormous
bills for food they never eat, to all ?h.- endless
perquisites of the old machine, which, like the
old time family coach, ought to be broken in
?its-and expect us, " who have been there"
and gone through with the whole heart-break?
ing business, to agree with them.
Let me give you a short sketch of life In
Rome, and you will not wonder that those of
our dear countrywomen who have seen and
enjoyed it to perfection, pine for the "flesh?
pots of Egypf." In the first place, we rent an?
apartment. They are of various sizes and
prices, to suit all tastes and purposes. The
rooms are, with lew exceptions, OH one floor.
An apart tuent for an ordinary family consist? *
of a salon or drawing-room, parlor, dining
room, three er more bed-rooms, a kitchen and
one or two servant's rooms, and sometimes a
billiard-room and ball-room. There arc few
rented apartments In Rome where large dan?
ces are allowed, for the buildingp arc old and
insecure. A dancing-hall is only safe on the
piano nobile, which, In most palaces, ls re?
served for the use of the proprietor. Only
carpet dances can be enjoyed, and even those,
arc risky. I was at a matinee last spring In the
Palazzo Odescalchl. when the ball-room was
thrown open, andadance forthe youngpeople
started. There were but two or three quad?
rilles on the floor, and yet I saw the door
hangings and curtains of the adjoining salon
swav to and fro quite alarmingly.
There are similar apartments to accommodate
one, two or three persons. These ar--usually,
suites of rooms which are rented unfurnished
of proprietors, by reasons with small capital ;
sometimes workit.g people, wives of petty
tradesmen. They invest their little gains in
furniture, divide their apartments off, and un?
derlet them. Service ls supplied, and some?
times meals. Many who rent these small apart?
ments ot these persons have their meals sent
in from a trattoria, or eating-house. If 30U
have a comfortable purse, and can order your
meals from N'azzarl's or Spillmann's-those de?
light ful Roman restaurants-you may lind trat?
toria tare palatable. Hut my advice ls to se?
cure an apart ment where the pradona- as
your landlady is called-will serve you with
your three meals ; that is, If you are only one
or two, have moderate means, and come to
Rome to study and see everything. Your
landlady will render you a dally account, and
you will be amused with thc precision ol the
" Filetto, eight soldi a slice"-that is, breast
of turkey, which is sold in that way uncooked,
and yoiiean have as many slices as your appe?
tite requires. "Fegelini, ten soldi"-a deli?
cious dish, made of the livers and hearts of
chickens, with rico and curry sauce. Oso, ten
cents, which ls the bone and meat for the dally
soup, fane-bread-live cents a loaf. Butter,
from three to ten cents a pat, just enough to
last the day. Cream, from two to ten cents
as much as you want ; and so on-every vege?
table, meat, fruit, Ac, mentioned with Its
price. Thus you can daily order your next
day's meals according to your taste and purse.
If a visitor comes In suddenly to whom yon
wish to be hospitable, you can send to Mmes.
Nazzarl's or Splllmann's, for one or two line
dishes, and your table will be sumptuous.
Then there are plenty of delicious'little potted
delicacies, /wi/5 de J'oie, anchovy paste, Ac.,
which are extremely nice to have on hand lor
emergencies, or for your own occasional dain?
tiness, when the natural depravity of your
stomach makes you quarrel with your padre
na's paradisaical provldlngs. By managing la
this way, four or Ave francs a day, (equal to
eighty cents or one dollar in gold.) will give
you an excellent table-three meals for one
person ; while one good trattoria dinner alone,
from Nazzari's or Splllmann's, costs six franca
for one person ; then comes in added the ex?
pense of breakfast and luncheon.
The great charm of this Roman mode of life,
when managed in the Roman fashion, ls that
you can regulate daily, to a penny, your ex?
penses ; and when you dine out, or when your
dillies out-doors make lt more convenient for
you lo dine ut a restaurant, your expenses are
hot going on at home. Even if you have a
kitchen and servants, their table is not yours:
You pay them certain wages, and then allow
them daily so much money for their own lood,
which they spend as they please. You have
no responsibility, ll ls no meanness to have a
tine roast, or any nice dish set aside lor your
own future use." The servants here are so ex?
perienced in their science of culinary economy,
also, thal they seem to know to a slice how
many potatoes to cook for one person, and sc*
on with every article of food.
True, wealthy Americans come to Rome and
bring with them home habits. The surveil?
lance of house accounts has hanging around lt
wretched memories of home wrestlings and
griefs, so the mistresses omit this very ueees
sarj duly. They order more food than is need?
ed, or can be used at their own table, and
think, according to the law and gospel, their
own kitchen gods and goddesses taught them
wi'h bitter suffering, that it ls a contemptibfe
parsimony to have the cold meats kept for fur?
ther use ul their own meals, and send them all
into the kitchen. The Italian servants, unac?
customed to this "barbaric generosity," be?
come speedily demoralized, and a system of
thieving begins which is endloss.
Hut those of us who have small means and
lil tie leisure, live differently ; we copy the na?
tives, adding the willie a few liberalities of
American life, and the comfort and peare of
mind that results ls delightful. Everything
about housekeeping in Rome can be under your
own eye, and is arranged to give you the
smallest amount of trouble. Wood, for exam?
ple, von purchase by the charette, or load,
which is a little over haifa cord, aud order lt,
strange to say, at your grocer's ! To be sure,
the Romans of comfortable means get their
fuel in another way. from their own lands or
from farmers, but the stranger will do better
to go to Madame Fichelli's, on the Piazza di
Spagna, or some well known shop of the kind.
Thc wood is sent, nicely dried, cut small, up
lo your apartment door, and stored away,
sometimes In clothes presses or in th? recesses
ol'an ante-chamber, and hidden very often by
a beautiful curtain or piece of rich old tapes?
try; for economy ol' space is also another
brandi of this "great virtue tor women and
vice for men," as old John Adams used to de?
nne economy. Poor "ian ! What would the
good old '70'" square-toes say |f he could come
10 life in these days ol' women's rights to all
men's vices and " more too." Verily, "JVous
avons chang? tout cela .'"
-They have cart led the art of extortion ar
"fains"' to a degree of perfection in Great Bri?
tain. Mr. Toole, the comedian, strolled Into a
fair one afternoon at Dundee, where he hap?
pened to be playing, and the managers of the
entertainment determined that he should add
to their revenues. They a?ked him to give an
exhibition ihen and there, and pressed l im sc
strongly that he consented. The room wa*
then emptied and a new admission fee was
charged to all who entered. When Mr. Toole
himself went to the door the keeper protested
that he did not al all re-embie Mr. Toole, and
that If he wished to see the comedian he must
pay. To even such a demand the good-natured
man made no refusal, but paid for the privi?
lege of entering the hall to give an entertain?
ment for which he received nothing.