we are now able to add some others. A
grocer living on the Boulevard du Temple,
has gained a prize of twenty-five thousand
francs (one thousand pounds). He was on
the point of retiring from business, after
receiving his little fortune. A commissionaire
(light porter) of the Rue St. Honoré gained
five thousand francs; a young seamstress,
living in the Rue Neuve-Breda, one thousand
francs. Two or three years since, a
dealer in river-sand, living on the Quai
Numappes, died, leaving a wife and children,
and his affairs somewhat embarrassed. A
brave woman, who had been their servant,
unhesitatingly assisted her mistress with
her savings. To this worthy woman has
fallen the prize of four hundred thousand
francs. There is a report of a young servant-
girl, who had drawn fifteen hundred francs,
the amount of her hoardings, from the Savings
Bank, in order to buy fifteen hundred lottery
tickets with that money; but who got nothing.
It is rumoured that another young servant-
girl, of the Rue Saint Denis, on finding that
she had lost her savings, four hundred francs,
which she had put into the lottery, has
become insane. It is asserted that, up to the
present moment, there have already been
presented to the Pay-office of the Lottery nine
tickets bearing the number which gained the
grand prize, and seven bearing the number
which gained the prize of two hundred thousand
francs. It is added, in explanation of
these facts, which may give rise to so much
controversy, that clever hands had forged the
winning numbers."

We have only to follow mentally the train
of thought which these few sentences will
suggest, to appreciate the consequences of a
national system of lotteries. French literature
is full of examples, in which girls and
women, of low and high birth, have been
dragged through every possible defilement, to
utter starvation, in order to gratify an
insatiable craving after gambling by lottery. The
cheap price of the tickets tempts the victims
to pawn the last rag, and abstain from the
last morsel, in the delusive hope of at last
gaining a fortune. The Journal de
l'Arrondissement du Havre, May 4, 1852, advertises
five lotteries; the tickets are one franc for
each chance; but tickets are also to be bought
which comprise a chance in each lottery of the
five. It is cruel to hold out to poor wretches
the temptation of " twenty thousand, ten
thousand, five thousand, or two thousand
francs, for one franc!" The " or " reads as if
the miserable being had only to choose his
fortune. It matters little that the profits of
these lotteries are devoted to charitable
institutions, and church-building, and that abbots
and mayors preside at the council of administration.
Such men ought to know that a
single franc earned by honest industry is more
likely to thrive and bring happiness than
twenty thousand francs gained by a lottery
ticket.

To skip to another subject in the same
journal, how would the milkmen in our large
towns like the introduction of such foreign
ways as this? " Tribunal of Correctional
Police [at Havre, or Le Havre, as we
ought to call it], M. Duchemein, judge,
in the chair. Sitting of May 4, 1852,
Stéphanie Bourelle, aged forty-two years,
born at Turretot, farmer, living at Nointot,
wife of Brutus Grainder, fined fifty francs
for adulterating milk. The evidence of this
sentence shall, further, be inserted at the
expense of the convicted party in the Journal
de l'Arrondissement du Havre, in the Journal
de Bolbec, and shall be posted in bills to the
amount of twenty-five copies."

Lastly, these small and brief French papers,
amidst their scanty scraps of news, often show
us our own portraits, in the colours which
they assume when reflected from a continental
glass. Les Anglais are the topic of many a
curious paragraph, and furnish not unfrequent
anecdotes to the provincial press. We have
some odd countrymen who give themselves
airs, and are traditionally supposed to represent
the dignity of Great Britain. For example;
—" There is at this moment (April 22, 1852)
in Paris, an Englishman who is really the
most curious production of his country, so
fertile in originals. He is a man of about
eight-and-thirty years. Is he attacked with
the spleen? It is probable , the fact is that
he obstinately refuses to enter into conversation
with any person whatever. In the
splendid hotel of the quartier des Italiens,
where he has fixed himself for the last six
weeks, he has forbidden the waiter who
attends on him ever to speak a word to him.
He behaves with a cold and calm brutality
which is without a rival. We are informed
that the other day, when taking a ride in the
Champs Elysèes, he astonished,  in this respect,
a mass of loungers and inquisitive people.
He was accompanied by his servant, who was
on horseback as well as himself. He
dismounted, and gave the bridle of his horse to
this young man to hold. When he desired to
get on horseback again, the servant held the
bridle for him; but during this operation,
the end of the riding-whip which the servant
held in his hand touched the master's face;
then, you should have seen our Anglais with
imperturbable coolness give his servant the
most vigorous kick in the thigh that you can
imagine. The man, English, like his master,
coldly raised his hand to his cap. As to the
crowd which was present at this scene, it
seemed to be extremely indignant, and literally
yelled at the gentleman, who put spurs to his
horse, and without seeming even to have
heard them, turned off in the direction of
the Barrière de l'Etoile. This Anglais
is not insane, as one might perhaps be
induced to believe. In a grand Restaurant,
where he goes to dine, in company with
two of his countrymen who alone
apparently have the permission to speak to him,