l, will serve to
portray the whole of this French pandemonium. On the ground floor is a
jeweller's shop, where may be purchased diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and
every description of female ornament, such as only can be possessed by
those who have very large sums of money at their command. It was here
that the successful gambler often deposited a portion of his winnings,
and took away some costly article of jewellery, which he presented to
some female friend who had never appeared with him at the altar of
marriage. Beside this shop was a staircase, generally very dirty, which
communicated with the floors above. Immediately over the shop was a
cafe, at the counter of which presided a lady, generally of more than
ordinary female attractions, who was very much decolletee, and wore an
amount of jewellery which would have made the eye of an Israelite
twinkle with delight. And there la creme de la creme of male society
used to meet, sip their ice and drink their cup of mocha, whilst
holding long conversations, almost exclusively about gambling and women.

Men's thoughts, in this region, seemed to centre night and day upon the
tapis vert, and at the entrance of this salon was that fatal chamber,
over which might have been written the famous line of Dante, "Voi che
entrate lasciate ogni speranza." The reader will at once understand
that I am referring to the gambling-house, the so-called "hell" of
modern society. In one room was the rouge et noir table, which, from
the hour of twelve in the morning, was surrounded by men in every stage
of the gambling malady. There was the young pigeon, who, on losing his
first feather, had experienced an exciting sensation which, if followed
by a bit of good luck, gave him a confidence that the parasites around
him, in order to flatter his vanity, would call pluck. There were
others in a more advanced stage of the fever, who had long since lost
the greater part of their incomes, having mortgaged their property, and
been in too frequent correspondence with the Jews. These men had not
got to the last stage of gambling despair, but they were so far
advanced on the road to perdition that their days were clouded by
perpetual anxiety, which reproduced itself in their very dreams. The
gambler who has thus far advanced in his career, lives in an inferno of
his own creation: the charms of society, the beauty of woman, the
attractions of the fine arts, and even the enjoyment of a good dinner,
are