the pleasant reading party afterwards - not
that very much reading would be done,
although the large book-case gave mighty
promise-not much reading, but much fishing
and more idling and dancing and flirting with
the jolly little Fraulein of the inn. And there,
too, was the usual family of distinction, the
aristocratic male head thereof, very haughty and
noli me tangere as to appearance, and with a
broad-rimmed eye-glass, placed on what Bell's
Life would facetiously call his "dexter optic,"
and with him the high-bred lady, who stares
askance at the mingled crowd on board, and
with her a French maid, who will commence to
be dreadfully ill long before the boat gets into
sea-water; and a courier, of foreign extraction,
whose costume is a mavellous thing to behold,
and is characterized by the Oxford men as an
"awful big cheese," and partakes of the bitter beer
with them with exceeding affability. Pale and
jaded old roues from the clubs cluster together
and mumble politics and scandal on the poop;
these hope to recreate their strength, and put
off that sure-footed enemy, Death, for a short
time, by a rigorous course of the waters, and in-
tend keeping away dreadful ennui by a little
roulette; and the long-bearded, roughly-dressed
young fellows by them, who have already
brought out their tablets and pencils, are of the
struggling band of the brush, who hope that
they may tack on the dearly-beloved R.A. to
their names, in time. Honest young people,
whose wants are simple and easily satisfied,
give them their much-adored meerschaum and
a glass of beer and something to sketch from,
and they are content. There are two passen-
gers the less, though, in the favourite steamer
"Cycnus," than when we were about to start.
The cry of "Any more for the shore" had
scarcely died away when a suspicious-looking
pale-faced man, about whose mouth there was
a strange twitching, and about whose manner
a curious hurry and nervousness, felt his
shoulder touched by the hand of an ordinary
respectable personage, and turned round to face
his doom, to feel the iron clutch of that Neme-
sis, from whose bonds he so fondly hoped to
escape. You have the inimitable face of the
detected criminal in Frith's wondrous picture
"The Railway Station"-that white face, in
which one can almost see the dry lip qui-
vering, that blank stare of horror in the eye;
such was the face of the passenger on
board the "Cycnus," when he felt the hand
of the trusty emissary of Scotland Yard on
his shoulder, and needed not the assurance
of worthy Inspector Scott to tell him that
the game was up. It was a painful scene,
but one of frequent occurrence, and after
the people had ceased pitying the anguish of
the miserable wife, they fell to talking, with a
certain degree of pride, of the infallible nature
of Justice, and many more things to the same
tune, though possibly many of them might have
had cause to tremble having within them "un-
divulged crimes," but, being lucky in that, they
escaped.

Arrived at Ostend the company separated, and fled in diverse directions-the Oxford men to their little reading nook among the mountains; the artists for a stroll through all the attainable picture-galleries; and the gentlemen of distinction-the faded dandies of St. James's, and with them Grantley and his wife-to Baden (to an Eldorado the Captain hoped); the old men to a fountain of Jouvence, after a magic flight through the delicious Rhine-landthat land the very name of which has the sound of music, and makes one lay down the pen, and dream. At the close of a beautiful summer-day, when land and lea, mountain, and river which reflected the mountain, blazed with a gorgeous, golden splendour they drew nigh to a town the windows of whose houses gleamed like brightest jewels, to a veritable Paradise, if delicious scenery, magnificent buildings, ever-changing groups of gaily-attired promenaders, and the sounds of witching music stealing through the evening air can form a Paradise. In looking at Baden one is tempted to think of the old proverb or saying of an ancient divine, that the devil had all the finest musiccertes, that gentleman, and he is very rife in Baden, has there the monopoly of an Elysium on earth!

Ella looked forward to her future home with a degree of eager curiosity, which not even the pressure of great grief could entirely quell. Everyone knows the painful longing which strains one's eyes to catch the first glimpse of the place where we are to live in for some time.

Going to school for the first time, how eagerly the little crying boy strains his eyes towards the brick-house with the belt of firtrees round it! and with what respectful awe and terror he listens to the coachman's description of Beatem Academy! Going up to College a callow freshman, with all his troubles to come, what a strange thrill of pride and curiosity pervades his mind as he sees the long line of pollard willows that fringe the river! And then, in a grey haze, the stately Christ-church towers, and the front of the schools before whose stern and frowning pillars all his battles are to be fought and all his triumphs won! And shortly the train rolls up to the station, and he is in the midst of the mad hurly-burly, with men of his own age, struggling for luggage in the maddest possible manner. Painful as this feeling of curiosity is at all times, it is doubly so when we feel certain that the bourne we are approaching will be for us no haven of rest, but that a scene of trouble and misery is dawning upon us. When forced to leave home-perchance a dear home, that has been broken up, and the warm ashes of the hearthstone scattered to the winds by the untimeous death of the bread-winner, or, more piteous still, by the departure to a better land of the "angel in the house "-the mother who sanctified all homes' belongings by the halo of her presence. Then, if haply the son is cast upon the world's cold charity, or the daughter forced to earn a genteel livelihood (the painful mockery of that word genteel!) by

per, feels perchance a tenderer touch of pity towards the not-forgotten name; and the mother steals after nightfall into the picture-gallery, where a fine handsome boy is placed with his face to the wall, and covers the canvas with tearful kisses. More ghastly oftimes is the story, where the ruined gambler, reduced to desperation, has sought with his own rash hand to explore the ȧvnλious do μous, the "mysterious bourne from whence no traveller e'er returns," and presented himself, another victim in the sacrifice to the great goddess Fortune.

Fortunately for the new arrivals, there happened to be some people staying at Baden who were not quite lost, and still remained within the charmed circle of respectability-people who had shared Grantley's hospitality at Portman Square; and though it would be but consonant to human nature for them to have given the cool and haughty stare of forgetfulness when they met their hosts in ruin, still these people did not behave fashionably for once. To Ella (frightened and cowering before the enfans perdus of the Kursaal and the roulette-tables) these people seemed as visitants from a better world; and the poor harassed lady took refuge with them, with a weary sigh of satisfaction. These people, too (their name was Charteris), actually went to church at Baden, with strict regularity (a thing singular for the place), and sat under the valuable preaching of a slightlysoiled English divine, who had been a fellow of Trinity, had come out with young De Croesus, the millionaire's son, but having assisted the gamblers to considerably lighten the young Oxford man of his golden coins, he was released from the tuition of the youth, and chose to stay on in Baden, addicting himself rather to absinthe and preaching to the English residents, on the chance of an occasional pound to keep body and soul together,

tuition; when the delusive advertisement has been answered with the courage of despair, and the long, cold journey has been travelled, and late at night the long line of lights come gleaming up through the dark, and a light horizon announces that beneath its canopy lies the wondrous mother-city, then what a cold feeling of despair settles down, like lead, into the stranger's heart, a rush of blinding tears, which obscures for a moment the view, while still the memory of happier times seems like the music of faintly-heard chimes, or, like the regretful sound which lingers after the keys have ceased throbbing to the exquisite sonatas of Beethoven! With feelings such as these, then, Ella Grantley approached the delightful, wicked, reckless city of Baden, where still the ball kept rolling, and still the little game was being made, | and the croupiers raked in the spoils with impassive faces. The next day, when, hanging on her husband's arm, she ventured out to hear the band play, was a very great ordeal. Obliged to see that her husband nodded to, and seemed on familiar terms with, men from whom she shrank as instinctively as does the sensitive plant from the touch of man, she wondered if they had ever been gentlemen, these swaggering desperadoes, with the ruffling manner and cool impertinent stare, which brought the angry blood surging into her cheeks. Probably they had all been gentlemen at some former period of their existence, and had seen better days-better in the sense that a dishonest action or a mean advantage would have made them blush; indeed, they might have been the pride of any woman, and man's "own ideal knights;" but now they resemble the daring mariner of Horace's ode, for the "Es triplex," the triple brass of shamelessness, has covered their cheeks, and their hearts are as the nether mill-stone, utterly insensible to the warnings of what was once conscience; they have forgotten the old gentlemanly instincts, and the only instincts which they adhere to now are those of the bird of prey-cunning of hand, ruthless of heart, with the utmost unconcern and with the most business-like air; taking the money of the dupes who fall into their traps, and laying as a salve to the battered remains of conscience-which sometimes in the night time, when "poppies and mandragora" have not been able to summons sleep, accuses them-the com- "I always like to have the woman to my forting assurance that if they did not win the home, my dear," said Mrs. Charteris to Ella; money, somebody else would. And thus they "she sings divinely, and I have seen her do improve the shining hour, these exiles at Baden Maritana, at the little opera we have here, in a and Hamburg, sometimes in the height of suc- way that would make some Covent Garden cess, like Midas turning everything to gold, and people look small; but I must confess that she the while that the golden tide lasts arraying frightens me, with her fierce cruel face and terthemselves in gorgeous raiment, and giving rible eyes. She always seems to be looking far suppers to dubious company: when the tide away, and goes through her performance in a turns and fortune frowns, content to take bread painfully mechanical way. I don't quite envy and water fare, and accept the loan of a few the human being that crossed her path. She francs, till, like as Mr. Micawber says, some- is on in "Lucrezia Borgia" on Monday night; thing turns up," and after a life of mingled po- and some night we will have her here. The verty and dishonour, they sink into a foreign Cotogni (for that's her name) never refuses me, grave; and the grey-haired old father at home, for some reason or other." when he sees the ruined son's death in the pa

The Charteris people also gave English reunions, kept very select on Tuesday evenings when all the native talent that could be procured in the way of singing was assembled, and as all the Baden world was ringing with the fame of a certain prima donna assoluta whom everybody raved about, and about whom there were strange stories extant, to the effect that she was "under the protection" of a certain Italian who always accompanied her, and sang a decent second,

The invitation to the opera Ella refused, not

feeling inclined; but accepted the invitation to the evening-party, promising to bring her husband-the husband who at that present moment was gambling with all his might and main, and having a successful run.

The tide of play is at its height in the gorgeous room of the Kursaal to-night, and everything that can allure the eye and gratify the senses is there. A great blaze of light throws out, in strong relief, the magnificent carvings of the pillars and the heavy hangings which are thrown back in order that the evening-breeze may carry in the dreamy notes of a delicious German waltz which the band is playing. There is very little sound else, except the monotonous click of the rolling ball, and the croupier's chaunt of "Rouge gagne, et couleur perd. Faites votre jea. Le jeu est fait."

Truly, Mons. Benazet understood human character when he made the accompaniments of the devil's work so fascinating to the senses. It was the pleasantest of all lounges, this room, | when the night grew a little chill and people were tired of sitting under the limes, and awearied of the merry stream of parti-coloured, gay groups, that passed and re-passed, in a species of rhythm, to the pealing strains of the divine "Soldaten-Lieder valze." Then there are refreshments to be had, and the good Rhine wine, with crystal bubbles, that court the lip and make merry the heart; and when one has eaten and drunk, what better amusement can there be than just to place one's little coin on a colour, and if the little coin makes unto itself more little coins by way of company, what more charming than to leave the gambling-room, having broken the bank and left the croupiers to tear their hair, in impotent wrath!

And so the habit grows, till what was only a little amusement-the mere staking of a small coin, as every gentleman should who visits the "Bads"-has degenerated into a terrible passion for play, till the rosy-cheeked portly English tourist, who entered the room as a mere joke first time, finds himself thither, year after year, with an ever-increasing ardour for the "black and the red," till he has lost all control over the dreadful habit, and the Kursaal has proved to him "the hall of the lost footsteps."

sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, or any kind of sweet music.

These characters have been so often described, that my patient reader is probably ready to cry out," Quousque tandem ?" I am not going to abuse your patience, as did Catiline that of the famous Roman orator; I will content me with saying that the company assembled at good Mons. Benazet's little pandemonium was no better nor worse than do generally congregate there-dupes and their protectors, hawks with the hooked beaks and talons ready to clutch the gold, immensely wealthy Russian nobles who did not require much scraping to show the proverbial Tartar, impassive Englishmen of all kinds taking their losses quietly and calmly as a hero meets his death, shoddy American gentlemen having just become millionaires by striking ile,” rough of demeanour, unutterably gorgeous as to apparel, and demi-monde ladies with wonderful costumes, chignons that sparkled with gold dust, and jewellery that other people besides infidels might adore, and with them the silly fools their victims, who strutted about as though proud of their property, and seeming to say "Voila! Here I am, the fortunate possessor of so much beauty and magnificence, and beating you all to nothing in the fashionable game of immorality."

66

And thus, from morning to night, amid a wonderful atmosphere of music and laughter, and gaming and dancing and eating, the sun times the crack of a pistol disturbed the player, rose and the sun set upon Baden; and if someand something was carried out covered with a ghastly white cloth, why it was all in the day's work, and the cry rose still louder from the maddened crowd stopped by a slight barrier. slight interruption, as does the hoarse cry of a "Faites votre jeu, Messieurs. Le jeu est fait !"

CHILDHOOD.-Children are but little people, yet they form an important part of society, expend much of our capital, employ a greater portion of our popu lation in their service, and occupy half the literati of Nothing is commoner at the gaming-table, our day in labours for their instruction and amuseplaying roulette, than an old grey-haired ment. They cause more trouble and anxiety than the withered woman, in whom the fires of passion national debt; the loveliest women in her maturity of have smouldered out into the gray ashes of charms, breaks not so many slumbers, nor occasions so apathy, whose only token of life is that wild many sighs, as she did in her cradle; and the handcunning gleam which flashes from her eye when somest of men, with full-grown mustaches, must not the croupier announces her colour as winning; flatter himself that he is half so much admired as he and the eager way in which she stretches out was when in petticoats. Without any reference to her withered talon-like hand to gather-in her their being our future statesmen, philosophers, and winnings, and then mumbles and chuckles magistrates, in miniature disguise, children form, in over the golden pile, in a manner dreadful and tial class of beings; and the arrival of a bawling intheir present state of pigmy existence, a most influensickening to behold. "Auri sacra fames, quid fant, who can scarcely open his eyes, and only opens non mortalia cogis pectora." Here was the its mouth, like an unfledged bird, for food, will effect sanctity of age, the venerable beauty of the the most extraordinary alteration in a whole housecrown of silver hairs, the pride of experience, hold; substitute affection for coldness, duty for dissilow, low in the dust before the golden idol,pation, cheerfulness for gravity, bustle for formality, which to worship requires not the incitement of and unite hearts which time has divided.

THE HEALTH QUESTION.