riders. A large amphitheatre has been erected
in the suburbs, capable of holding three thousand
persons, and this is always crowded with
eager spectators. In the centre of the arena
is a stockade in the form of a cross, intended
for a place of refuge, the spaces between the
posts being wide enough to admit a man. The
Spanish bull-fights have been so often
described, and the theme itself is so uninviting,
that we will not linger over it further than to
notice one or two peculiarities of the Peruvian
"toros." The proceedings are usually opened
by a company of well-trained soldiers, who
perform various military evolutions in the
ring, and form themselves into many complex
figures; but the real business of the day is
commenced by a party of amateurs who display
their activity and admirable horsemanship,
in feigned attacks upon the bull, with
long light lances; their practised horses
eluding his fierce onset by nimbly swerving
from his course. As fresh bulls are brought
in, new modes of fighting are adopted, and
with each daring feat or narrow escape,
shouts of applause ring from the wide
galleries, and showers of flowers and coins are
thrown into the arena. The ladies are ever
foremost with their bravos, and seem to take
a more delighted interest in the savage sport
than even the male spectators. A file of
Indians, kneeling on the further side of the
ring, receive one bull on their slight lances,
which often break beneath his weight, and
fearful accidents ensue. By another mode, a
single Indian, dressed in red, kneels behind a
short strong lance fixed on a swivel. The head
of the lance is a long keen blade of steel; and,
as the bull rushes forward, the Indian directs
the weapon with such precision, that the blade
enters the skull, and passing out behind
the horns, the bull falls dead. In such a
fight it is rare that more than a single course
is run; for to the man, the slightest tremor,
or the smallest flaw in wood or steel, is
almost certain death. Some bulls are tortured
by blazing fireworks; and others are killed
as in Spain, by matadores, armed with short
swords, and carrying flags or cloaks. But
we will not dwell upon such brutal sports,
for they do not harmonise with our English
ideas of Christmas merriment, nor with
that Christmas message which brought
' on earth peace and good-will towards
men."

Willingly we turn from this bad feature
of our Lima festival to see again the
merry groups collected round the ice-
stalls; to wander through the streets, listening
once more to the sweet songs of the
Indian women, or to the solemn chanting of
the choristers. Or. as we pass the wide
court-yards, up which the welcome-lamp is
gleaming, we enter again the hospital saloon;
and, watching the graceful dancers, think of
by-gone days, and far-off friends with whom
we have passed so many Christmas Days, and
wonder if they think of us amidst their
merriment, and if they drink our health as
we do theirs, coupling their names with many
a hearty wish.

A PACK OF CARDS.

SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY sent a pack of
cards to every cottager-family on his estate,
every Christmas. , Cards are in season, and
we propose to take a hand.

Bunhill Row has not now, a stranger
going that way would think, any very
striking attractions to boast of. Yet there
is something remarkable in the spectacle
of four hundred men, women, boys and girls,
subjecting the simple material Paper to
almost every imaginable process—cutting it,
stamping it, pressing it, pasting it, printing it,
colouring it, folding it, bordering it, gilding it,
silvering it, embossing it, sizing it, varnishing
it, enamelling it, japanning it, sprinkling it,
brushing it, polishing it. In the large pile of
buildings, which has the name of De la Rue
over the entrance, these, and perchance many
more processes are conducted; how many
we attempt not even to guess. All we shall
do is to endeavour to pick our way among
the machinery and the piles of paper, and to
single out such substances and such processes
as contribute towards the production of that
singular medley—a pack of cards.

Fifty-two pieces of card-board have brought
much pleasure and much ruin in their train;
yet not the card-board, surely, but the spirit
which pervades those who use it. The
favourite theory concerning the origin of
playing-cards is that a certain king, once
upon a time, was melancholy and sick, and
that a courtier invented cards to wile
away the tedious hours. But this theory
has been rudely broken in upon; and the
real truth seems to be that we know neither
when, nor where, cards were first used as
instruments of play or amusement. European
nations may spare themselves all conflict on
this matter; for whenever we can prove the
existence of any art or custom in China and
India, there is a provoking probability that
such art or custom was known in those
countries before Europe had arrived at years
of discretion. Let it have originated where it
may, however, the use of playing cards has
undergone many and curious variations in the
number of cards and the devices exhibited by
them. But it may be well to make our card-
board first, and to study its decorations
afterwards.

Whatever may be the case in respect to
some of the thicker pasteboard or millboard, it
is a rule to make the pasteboard (we will call
it carton) for playing-cards of several layers
of paper pasted together. It is useful to bear
in mind that the sheets so pasted are large
enough each for forty ordinary cards. The
sheets in English cards are four in number,
two to form the foundation or inside, one for
the face, and one for the back. The heaps of