English lottery; it was drawn but once a year, and those who purchased the tickets were content to remain quiet until their success was made known. The chances, although very distant, of so high a prize, satisfied the spirit of gambling; if they lost, they purchased again, and waited patiently for another year, trusting to be more fortunate. Now, although they gambled, they did not acquire the habit of gaming. What has been the consequence since the lotteries have been abolished? that there are hells of every description established throughout the metropolis, from those who admit the stake of a shilling, to Crockford's splendid Pandemonium; and those who were formerly content with a lottery ticket, now pass their evenings away from their families and ruin themselves in a very short time. The lottery never ruined any one. The sum staked might be large for the circumstances of the parties, but it was a yearly stake, and did not interfere with the industry, the profits, or the domestic happiness of the year. One half the tradesmen who now appear in the "Gazette,” have been ruined by frequenting the low hells with which the metropolis abounds. From the above considerations, I should think it advisable to re-establish the lotteries.

The next question is one upon which I hesitate to offer an opinion; but it is worthy of consideration how far it may be advisable to license and tax gaming-houses. Were it possible to put them down altogether, the question need not be discussed; but it is impossible. Has any magistrate ventured to interfere with Crockford's, where it is well known that the highest gaming is carried on every night? Are you not permitted to walk through the club at any hour of the day? Do they not have the tables exposed to the view of every one? Yet who has interfered, although you find that the smaller hells are constantly broken in upon and the parties had up to the police-office? Are not the laws made for all? Is that an offence in the eyes of government in a poor man which is not one in the rich? Yet this is the case: and why so? Because the rich will game, and the government cannot prevent them. Has not a man a right to do as he pleases with his own money? You legalize the worst of gambling on the Stock Exchange, for a man can there risk what he cannot pay: you cannot control the gaming of the race-course, and yet you would prevent a man from gambling after his own fashion. You wink at the higher classes ruining themselves, and you will not permit the middle classes. Now the consequence of not having licensed tables is, that you have no control over them, and the public, who will play, are the dupes of rascals who cheat in every way; whereas, if a certain number were licensed and controlled, those who play would have a better chance, and the licensed tables taxed by government would take care to put down all others who were not. We must legislate for society as it is, not as it ought to be; and, as on other points, we have found it necessary to submit to the lesser evil of the two, it is a question whether in this also we might not do better by keeping within due bounds that which it is impossible to prevent.

I was amused with an anecdote told me to-day. An Englishman and a Frenchman arrived at Spa in the same diligence. They both took up their quarters at the same hotel, but from that moment

appeared to have no further intimacy. "Do you see that fellow?" would the Englishman say, pointing at the Frenchman, “I know a little of that chap, and it's my impression that he's a confounded rogue. I recommend you to be shy of him." "Voyez vous cet Anglais," said the Frenchman as the Englishman passed by, "En gardez-vous bien; c'est un coquin supérieur." Thus did they continue to warn the company of each other, until the close of the season, when one fine day they both went off together in the diligence, leaving all their debts unpaid, and their trunks and portmanteaus for the benefit of the landlord of the hotel, who, on opening them, found them to contain nothing but stones and rubbish. This was a new species of holy alliance, but the ruse was by no means ill-advised. When you hear a man constantly proclaiming the roguery of another, you are too apt to give him credit for honesty in his own person. Thus, with those whom each party associated and dealt with, they obtained a credit for honesty, which enabled them to succeed in their roguish endeavours.

(To be continued.)

LE BON VIEILLARD.

JOYEUX enfans, vous que Bacchus rassemble
Par vos chansons vous m'attirez ici;
Je suis bien vieux, mais en vain ma voix tremble
Accueillez-moi, J'aime à chanter aussi,
Du tems passé j'apporte des nouvelles,
J'ai bu jadis avec le bon Panard;
Amis du vin, de la gloire et des belles,

Daignez sourire aux chansons d'un vieillard.

Children of mirth, who o'er your mantling wine
Your revelry to some late hour prolong,
My voice may falter, but I yet can join

The humble tribute of an old man's song.
Your strains attract me, and I can unfold
Full many a legend of the days of yore;
I too have joked, and sung with wits of old,
And drunk with jovial spirits now no more.

Friends of the fair, of wine, and glory, deign
T'accept the tribute of an old man's strain.

I too have lived on woman's charms, like you,
Your grandmothers, perchance, I once might please;
I once had riches, friends, ay, sweethearts too,
But time, alas! has left me none of these.

Still mid the wreck, one sentiment will last
Memory is still my heritage, and I
Oft ponder on the history of the past,
Think of my fate, and then in secret sigh.

Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

Oft as the dread unpitying storm has swept
My native land, so oft I lost my all;
Still, like a patriot, to my post I kept,

And proudly drank a cup unmixed with gall.*
Though hard my lot, I never would repine,
For I would mix the village group among,
E'en on the vine-clad hills, that once were mine,
And cheered their labours with an old man's song.
Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

I too have fought, but unlike Nestor, I
Do not to olden times confine my praise;
No, all my laurels would I give to buy

But one achievement of these latter days.
Pure was the standard under which I fought,
And conquered too, in many a former war;
But the still nobler deeds that you have wrought,
Bind an old soldier to the "tri-color."

Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

Now fill each glass, and toast some favourite belle,
Whilst I your future destinies foretell,
The seeds you've sown amid inclement skies,
Nursed by a generous soil shall root and bloom.
Freedom shall reign, and happier days arise,
To shed their lustre on an old man's tomb.
My days are drawing to a close, and fate
Points to the grave; but yet, perchance, I may
Returning spring-tide's earlier blossoms wait,
Inhale their fragrance, and then pass away.
Friends of the fair, of wine, and glory, deign,
T'accept the tribute of an old man's strain.

L'orgueil blessé ne mèle point du fiel.

JOHN WARING.

A PERSIAN STANZA.

As the dew that distils from the sky on the plain,
My tears and my sighs on thy breast I have shed:
As the dew-drops return, fraught with perfume, again,
Return me my sighs, fraught with love, in their stead!

M.

I HAD been dozing all day over the voluminous marriage settlement of Isaac Stocks, Esquire, and Rebecca Pinfold, Spinster, and, as the clock struck eight in the evening, it struck me that my most agreeable course would be to shut up shop, and take a walk, long or short, as the fates might please. So throwing my Mackintosh over my shoulders, I wended forth, passing along Holborn, leaving on the right the castle of him

"To Greeks the direful Spring,"

and in a few minutes was in the Strand. This is, to a novice, which I was ten years ago, a very dangerous part of town, for very obvious reasons; and it is not until after several seasons that a tyro can pass along it unstranded. "But we who have free souls, and so forth," says Hamlet, and on the night I speak of I went steadily on,

"I looked, not lovingly, at that Divan,"

withstood the invitations of the Adelphi, (Messrs. Matthews and Yates, I suppose,) and almost reached Charing Cross, when I discerned a young familiar face approaching. We hailed in due time; the arrival was GA, the painter.

"Well met, by gaslight, friend A

"This meeting was well made," was the reply; "I thought of calling on you to-night."

I regret to say I made no brighter answer than-" I should have been very glad to see you. Let us turn back."

"It is too cold for sauntering; shall we look into the Rainbow?" "Iris will be proud of our company-but you do not appear well?" "It is nothing, the cold air-too much confinement-over-fatigue in a country excursion-nothing."

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Nay, my dear A—, it is true we have not been acquainted very long, but you will allow me to ask a less contradictory account of your illness. I have more than once observed

"What?" said he, in a voice that not only startled me, but caused one policeman and two milliners to look round, and a little dirty boy "Ax!"

to cry,

"That you have looked out of spirits."

"You shall not have reason to say so to-night, unless our landlord is in the same predicament."

"This is forced, my friend, and the joke too poor to be your's."

"I might tell you a tale which it would do me no good to communicate, nor you to hear. Let us laugh."

"As you will."

"A very half-hearted answer, and one you think most fit for so cautious a person as myself."

"You do me wrong," said I. "I should like to raise your spirits in the way you prefer, but pardon my saying, that I doubt

66

My confidence in you, or whether I have anything to tell worth

hearing.'

"Don't be offended with me, Charles, I cannot bear that, I did not mean to be rude, and I am sorry I spoke."

"A--!" and our hands met.

then I said.

We walked several yards, and

"But instead of this place, come to my chambers, and spend the evening with me there, the walk will do you good, and I can offer you a sofa, if we should be late."

"I never sleep from home, Charles, and but seldom there." This was said in a low voice, almost a whisper. He added, in a livelier tone, "But I will go with you, with all my-pshaw-Allons.”

For the rest of the way my companion was actually merry, not altogether to my astonishment, for I knew a little of his versatility. I determined to hear his story, if possible, however; and it will be very ungrateful if my readers attribute this wish to anything like curiosity.

I bolted the door, cleared the table in three minutes, stirred the fire, and produced certain bottles and glasses, and in a short time my little "sanctum snorum looked as cheerful as most places of business do when the signs and tokens thereof are removed.

"And now, A-, give a toast."

"Shall we have a truce to the usual formularies? I don't mean the regular after-dinner phrases, but to the more refined healths we youths delight to honour."

"By all means. What you please, you will not frighten me." "Are you assured of that?" said A

I fancied I saw him tremble.

I used to think so."

-, looking steadily at me.

"Then here-" THE FIEND'S PICTURE!"

"I drink it, hoping for an explanation."

"I owe it you now, and you shall have one." "Not, if the recollection is painful to you."

"Recollection-painful-ha! ha ha! good, good, as if the damned—the hellish memorial were not engraved here-here, in fire, in—” and he pressed his hand upon his brow, and breathed hard. "For God's sake, A- what is this? Shall I get you some water?" And I rose for the purpose.

"Pooh! pooh! what am I saying? I was about to tell you my story, and to give a toast. Here's your Mary."

"Thank you. Mine! Ay-twenty years hence-after wasting myself till forty over dusty cases, ten folios to the sheet, and making a dozen half-guinea motions on endorsed sheets of blank paper. But such is one's doom."

"Doom! how you talk! After years of sober industry at a profession which will at length, by custom, become dear to you, you will