The gambling here in 1868 has been described in a very vivid
manner.

`Since the enforcement of the Prussian Sunday observance
regulations, Monday has become the great day of the week for the

banks of the German gambling establishments. Anxious to make up
for lost time, the regular contributors to the company's

dividends flock early on Monday forenoon to the play-rooms in
order to secure good places at the tables, which, by the

appointed hour for commencing operations (eleven o'clock), are
closely hedged round by persons of both sexes, eagerly waiting

for the first deal of the cards or the initial twist of the brass
wheel, that they may try another fall with Fortune. Before each

seated player are arranged precious little piles of gold and
silver, a card printed in black and red, and a long pin,

wherewith to prick out a system of infallible gain. The
croupiers take their seats and unpack the strong box; rouleaux--

long metal sausages composed of double and single florins,--
wooden bowls brimming over with gold Frederics and Napoleons,

bank notes of all sizes and colours, are arranged upon the
black leather compartment, ruled over by the company's officers;

half-a-dozen packs of new cards are stripped of their paper
cases, and swiftly shuffled together; and when all these

preliminaries, watched with breathlessanxiety by the surrounding
speculators, have been gravely and carefully executed, the chief

croupier looks round him--a signal for the promptinvestment of
capital on all parts of the table--chucks out a handful of cards

from the mass packed together convenient to his hand--ejaculates
the formula, "Faites le jeu!" and, after half a minute's pause,

during which he delicately moistens the ball of his dealing
thumb, exclaims "Le jeu est fait, rien ne va plus," and

proceeds to interpret the decrees of fate according to the
approved fashion of Trente et Quarante. A similar scene is

taking place at the Roulette table--a goodly crop of florins,
with here and there a speck of gold shining amongst the silver

harvest, is being sown over the field of the cloth of green, soon
to be reaped by the croupier's sickle, and the pith ball is being

dropped into the revolving basin that is partitioned off into so
many tiny black and red niches. For the next twelve hours the

processes in question are carried on swiftly and steadily,
without variation or loss of time; relays of croupiers are laid

on, who unobtrusively slip into the places of their fellows when
the hours arrive for relieving guard; the game is never stopped

for more than a couple of minutes at a time, viz., when the cards
run out and have to be re-shuffled. This brief interruption is

commonly considered to portend a break in the particular vein
which the game may have happened to assume during the deal--say a

run upon black or red, an alternation of coups (in threes or
fours) upon either colour, two reds and a black, or _vice

versa_, all equallyfrequenteccentricities of the cards; and
the heavier players often change their seats, or leave the table

altogether for an hour or so at such a conjuncture. Curiously
enough, excepting at the very commencement of the day's play, the

_habitues_ of the Trente et Quarante tables appear to
entertain a strong antipathy to the first deal or two after the

cards have been "re-made." I have been told by one or two
masters of the craft that they have a fancy to see how matters

are likely to go before they strike in, as if it were possible to
deduce the future of the game from its past! That it is possible

appears to be an article of faith with the old stagers, and,
indeed, every now and then odd coincidences occur which tend to

confirm them in their creed. I witnessed an occurrence which was
either attributable (as I believe) to sheer chance, or (as its

hero earnestlyassured me) to instinct. A fair and frail Magyar
was punting on numbers with immense pluck and uniform ill

fortune. Behind her stood a Viennese gentleman of my
acquaintance, who enjoys a certain renownamongst his friends for

the faculty of prophecy, which, however, he seldom exercises for
his own benefit. Observing that she hesitated about staking her

double florin, he advised her to set it on the number 3. Round
went the wheel, and in twenty seconds the ball tumbled into

compartment 3 sure enough. At the next turn she asked his
advice, and was told to try number 24. No sooner said than done,

and 24 came up in due course, whereby Mdlle L. C. won 140 odd
gulden in two coups, the amount risked by her being exactly four

florins. Like a wise girl, she walked off with her booty, and
played no more that day at Roulette. A few minutes later I saw

an Englishman go through the performance of losing four thousand
francs by experimentalizing on single numbers. Twenty times

running did he set ten louis-d'ors on a number (varying the
number at each stake), and not one of his selection proved

successful. At the "Thirty and Forty" I saw an eminent
diplomatist win sixty thousand francs with scarcely an

intermission of failure; he played all over the table, pushing
his rouleaux backwards and forwards, from black to red, without

any appearance of system that I could detect, and the cards
seemed to follow his inspiration. It was a great battle; as

usual, three or four smaller fish followed in his wake, till they
lost courage and set against him, much to their discomfiture and

the advantage of the bank; but from first to last--that is, till
the cards ran out, and he left the table--he was steadily

victorious. In the evening he went in again for another heavy
bout, at which I chanced to be present; but fortune had forsaken

him; and he not only lost his morning's winnings, but eight
thousand francs to boot. I do not remember to have ever seen the

tables so crowded--outside it was thundering, lightening, and
raining as if the world were coming to an end, and the whole

floating population of Wiesbaden was driven into the Kursaal by
the weather. A roaring time of it had the bank; when play

was over, about which time the rain ceased, hundreds of hot and
thirsty gamblers streamed out of the reeking rooms to the glazed-

in terrace, and the next hour, always the pleasantest of the
twenty-four here and in Hombourg--at Ems people go straight from

the tables to bed,--was devoted to animated chat and unlimited
sherry-cobbler; all the "events" of the day were passed in

review, experiences exchanged, and confessions made. Nobody had
won; I could not hear of a single great success--the bank had had

it all its own way, and most of the "lions," worsted in the
fray, had evidently made up their minds to "drown it in the

bowl." The Russian detachment--a very strong one this year--was
especially hard hit; Spain and Italy were both unusually low-

spirited; and there was an extra solemnity about the British
Isles that told its own sad tale. Englishmen, when they have

lost more than they can afford, generally take it out of
themselves in surly, brooding self-reproach. Frenchmen give vent

to their disgust and annoyance by abusing the game and its
myrmidons. You may hear them, loud and savage, on the terrace,

"Ah! le salle jeu! comment peut-on se laisser eplucher par
des brigands de la sorte! Tripot, infame, va! je te

donne ma malediction!" Italians, again, endeavour to conceal
their discomfiture under a flow of feverishgaiety. Germans

utter one or two "Gotts donnerwetterhimmelsapperment!" light up
their cigars, drink a dozen or so "hocks," and subside into

their usual state of ponderouscheerfulness. Russians betray no
emotion whatever over their calamities, save, perhaps, that they

smoke those famous little `Laferme' cigarettes a trifle faster
and more nervously than at other times; but they are excellent

winners and magnificent losers, only to be surpassed in either
respect by their old enemy the Turk, who is _facile princeps_ in

the art of hiding his feelings from the outer world.
`The great mass of visitors at Wiesbaden this season, as at

Hombourg, belong to the middle and lower middle classes, leavened
by a very few celebrities and persons of genuine distinction.

There are a dozen or two eminent men here, not to be seen in the
play-rooms, who are taking the waters--Lord Clarendon, Baron

Rothschild, Prince Souvarof, and a few more--but the general run
of guests is by no means remarkable for birth, wealth, or

respectability; and we are shockingly off for ladies. As a
set-off against this deficiency, it would seem that all the aged,