hat I am aware of, save Capel Court, situate at about the
centre, on the right-hand side. At the end of Capel Court is the
Stock-Exchange, within whose sacred precincts subscribers only, and
their clerks, may enter--a regulation strictly enforced by the
liveried guardian at the door. But you can hear enough of the
stentorian gabble going on within where we now are. Hark! 'A
thousand pounds' consols at 96-3/4-96-1/2.' 'Take 'em at 96-1/4,' is
the vociferous reply of a buyer. 'Mexican at 27-1/2-27; Portuguese
fours at 32-7/8-32-1/2; Spanish fives at 21; Dutch two-and-halfs at
50-1/2-50-1/4:' and so roars on the distracting Babel till the hour
for closing strikes. Much of this business is no doubt
legitimate--the _bona fide_ sale and purchase of stock by the
brokers, for which they charge their clients the very moderate
commission of 2s. 6d. per L.100. The ruinous gambling of the
Stock-Exchange is another matter, and is chiefly carried on by
'time' bargains--a sham-business, managed in this way:--A nominally
buys of B L.100,000 worth of stock in consols, to be delivered at a
fixed price, say 96, on the next settling-day. It is plain that if
the market-price of consols shall have fallen, by the day named, to
94, B wins L.2000--the difference between L.100,000 estimated at 96
and 94 per cent. A must pay these L.2000, or, which amounts to the
same thing, receive from B consols to the amount of L.100,000 at 96,
that in reality are procurable at 94. It is simply and entirely a
gambling _bet_ upon what the price of funds will be on the next
settling-day. These transactions have been pronounced fraudulent by
the superior courts, and liabilities so contracted cannot be legally
recovered. It is, for all that, quite certain that these 'debts of
honour' entail misery, ruin, often death, on the madmen who
habitually peril everything upon the turn of the Stock-Exchange
dice--dice loaded, too, by every fraudulent device that the
ingenuity of the two parties engaged in the struggle can discover or
invent. To the 'Bears,' who speculate for a fall, national calamity
is a God-send. Especially a failure of the harvest, or a great
military disaster like that which befell the Cabool expedition, is
an almost priceless blessing--a cause of jubilant thanksgiving and
joy. The 'Bulls,' on the other hand, whose gains depend upon a rise
in the funds, are ever brimful of boasts, and paint all things
_couleur de rose_. If the facts bear out the asserti