yance of such restrictions
was loudly complained of. The rogues, ever ready to profit by
circumstances, opened houses for gaming--at that period almost a universal
vice--where "snuff at discretion" was a tempting bait to those long
accustomed to a gratification all the more agreeable because it was
forbidden. Here the snuff-takers were diligently plied with wine, and then
cheated of their money; or, if too temperate or suspicious to drink to
excess, they were unceremoniously plundered in a sham quarrel. To such a
length was this practice carried, that an ordinance was at length issued
in 1629, strictly forbidding all snuff-takers from assembling in public
places or elsewhere, "_pour satisfaire leur gout_!"

The thieves of the good old times were not only more numerous in
proportion to the population than they are at present, but were also
distinguished by greater audacity and cruelty. They had recourse to the
most diabolical ingenuity to subdue the resistance and to prevent the
outcries of their victims. Under the rule of Henry IV. a band of brigands
arose, who, in the garb, and with the manners of gentlemen, introduced
themselves into the best houses under the pretext of private business, and
when alone with the master, demanded his money at the dagger's point. Some
of them made use of a gag--a contrivance designated at the period the
_poire d'angoisse_. This instrument was of a spherical shape, and pierced
all over with small holes; it was forced into the mouth of the person
intended to be robbed, and upon touching a spring sharp points protruded
from every hole, at once inflicting the most horrible anguish, and
preventing the sufferer from uttering a single cry. It could not be
withdrawn but by the use of the proper key, which contracted the spring.
This device was adopted universally by one savage band, and occasioned
immense misery not only in Paris but throughout France.

An Italian thief, an enterprising and ingenious rogue, adopted a singular
expedient for robbing women at their devotions in church. He placed
himself on his knees by the side of his intended prey, holding in a pair
of artificial hands a book of devotion, to which he made a show of the
most devout attention, while with his natural hands he cut the watch or
purse-string of his unsuspecting neighbor. This stratagem, favored by the
fashion, then general, of wearing mantles, met with great success, and of
course soon produced a host of clumsy imitator