Bill Sykes? Had I been the king, I
would have marched two regiments into
their glittering halls, seized their infamous
tools, broken the rakes across the soldiers'
knees, torn up their cards, smashed into
firewood the roulette board and its numbers,
impounded their gold and silver and
sent it to the hospitals, and, locking the
doors and leaving sentries, have marched
off M. A. and M. B., the admirable men of
business, in a file of soldiers. I should
have these fellows tried, and put to hard
labour for the rest of their lives. As it is,
a culpable weakness has given them three
or four years more to pursue their vile
work, and gather, say, twenty thousand
precious souls into Satan's own bag net.

CHAPTER IV.

ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT.—I cannot endure
this terrible spectacle any more, and
shall not go to that place again. What I
have seen to-night is almost awful. I went
in to those rooms, now lit up, rich in colours,
and glittering like a king's palace. Such a
crowd, and such a contrast! First, I had
gone on the terrace, and looked down on the
charming gardens, where the innocent were
at the little tables, each surrounded with
its group, sipping coffee; the music playing
in the pavilion. Then I turn round and
look at the blazing windows, at the great
door behind me, which yawns like a cavern.
I hear the faint "click-click" and "rattle-
rattle," and that vast and quiet group,
crowded together. They are serious and
earnest; but there are delighted and festive
groups, wandering about—happy families,
charming young girls, good-natured papas
and mammas looking on with delight; and
now one of the young girls comes tripping
back with " Charles," in such delight,
showing something shining in her hand.
The great soft couches round are lined
with festive-looking people. Every one is
"circulating," and there is an air of animation
and motion over all. Some curiosity
makes me linger, and share it also—a wish
to describe to my little darling at home
such a strange and singular phase of manners
and character. I draw near to that
other table—the one I had not seen in the
morning, and which is consecrated to roulette.
It glitters all over with pieces, sown
thickly, sown broadcast, dotted here, there,
and everywhere, in perfect spasms of distribution.
They contend with each other,
this yellow, fiery-eyed, and dirty man, and
the keen but pretty girl with the powder
an inch thick on her face, and her pink silk
gathered up about her. They grudge each
other room, do these combatants; they
glare savagely underneath; the old lady in
black silk guides, with a trembling hand,
her single piece to some number dimly
seen, but whose place she guesses at. As
the ball flies round in its tiny circus, every
arm, with long stretched wrists, lunges out,
eager to be on; piece jostles piece. " Give
us standing room," they say, no matter
whether they be lost or won. Then comes
the sudden leap and metallic click as the
ball stumbles into its bed; then the waterfall
comes spouting down from the centre
—the heavy streams of coin, directed and
lighting with pleasant jingling on its fellows.
No one seems daunted by defeat.
I see one man who has been frantically
piling his gold here, there, and everywhere,
and, by some strange and devilish perversity,
is not allowed to win—no, not once—
while little, mean, cautious fiddlers, with
their shillings and francs, fare admirably.
I see him biting his lips as his nervous
fingers turn over the half-dozen little gold
pieces, in that agonising uncertainty which
I note so often, whether to play the bold
game now, risk all, or save this httle wreck
for another season. And all to be decided
within a second. When it is gone, a
pause, and then that rueful walking away
off the stage, while others rush into his
place. Or another. His all seems gone;
when, after an undecided council, his hand
seeks his breast-pocket—a note to be
changed—something that he has no right
to meddle with! Then the girls, young,
pretty, and not innocent of fear; then the
ladies—good sensible wives at home, but
transformed by coming to these places—
gradually come in, greedy harpies, and
ready, if they lose, to turn cat-like on their
husbands. All this wreck, this shocking
wreck, caused by this factory of wickedness!
I have had enough for one day and
for one night. I wish I had not seen it,
for it makes me wretched; and yet it is
worth seeing as a spectacle of infamy.
What I have written, too, will interest my
pet at home; and, as I know she hoards
up every scrap of my writing, perhaps one
day others will find it, and read it, and it
may act as a warning. There! I am going
to bed infinitely better. God be praised
for his mercy! and for my pet's sake I will
say over her little prayer, which she will
be saying about the same time:

"O Lord! Thou who dost guide the ship
over the waters, and bring safe to its journey's
end the fiery train, look on me in this