Making the above sum of 6,850l. This, however, gives no adequate notion of the expenses of the members of the Carlton Club. They are saddled with various other sources of expenditure. The rent and taxes of their old house cost them 600l. a year; while they estimate the additions it will be necessary to make to their stock of wines, their books, &c., during the current year, at 1000l. Still, after all allowances are made for accidental and other expenses not mentioned, it is but justice to say that the income of the club exceeds the expenditure by two or three thousand pounds.

The Carlton Club, as all the world knows, have just built a new house. To enable them to have an edifice befitting Tory views of dignity, they borrowed 20,000l. at five per cent. on the mortgage security of the club. Of this sum they have expended 8,000l., with 8,000l. more of the funds previously in their hands. The balance of 12,000l., of the 20,000l. thus borrowed, they have invested in Exchequer Bills. In addition to the 16,000l. already paid towards the expenses of erecting the new house, they owe Messrs. Bennett and Hunt, the contractors, 6,7221., exclusive of the architect's commissiou, and the salary of the clerk of the works, amounting together to 1,4591. If to these sums be added the cost of the furniture, fixtures, and the fitting up of the offices - calculated to come to about 5,500l.—there will be a balance which the club owes on account of the house alone, of nearly 13,7007. When this sum is paid, which it probably will be by the time these sheets are in the hands of the reader, the Carlton Club will be in this position-they will be saddled with a debt of 20,000l. at five per cent; but they will have propery worth from 25,000l. to 30,000. Ib., 113-116.

The Reform Club, established with the view of rendering the same service to the Liberal cause that the Carlton has to that of Toryism, is of recent institution, but bids fair to rival it in all that confers genuine respectability. The Duke of Wellington,' we are told, sometimes dines on his joint at the Carlton, at an ex6 pense of one shilling; and Mr. Hume does the same at the Re6 form Club.'

6

The next chapter introduces us to those yawning gulfs of perdition-the gaming-houses. The account given of the interior of Crockford's pigeon-house exhibits England's aristocrasy to little advantage; and were it not for the families and dependents of the noble Flats who, with their eyes open, suffer themselves to be plucked of their wealth and plunged into debt and embarrassment for life, one could hardly regret that the hundreds of thousands thus engulfed were alienated from aristocratic imbecility and profligacy. But society gains little by the transfer which beggars a

duke to enrich a villain. One of Crockford's daughters 'is married to a clergyman!"

But the minor gaming houses are the sources of the greatest amount of social misery; and it is in these that the dreadful character of the vice is seen in all its naked hideousness.

There was three classes of gamblers to be seen there. First, there is the man who still continues to move in fashionable life, and who has a good coat on his back, but has been obliged to abandon Crockford's and the Athenæum, because the remains of his former resources are now so small that he can no longer play to the usual amount, and to play to a less amount would both wound his pride and betray his poverty. He keeps up the one and conceals the other as long as he can,-though that long is always very short-if there be not an Irishism in the expression-with a gambler. Secondly, you see the man who belonged to the first class, but is no longer able to keep up appearances: his clothes begin to have a shabby-genteel aspect, and his pockets are in a still worse condition. Thirdly, there is the man for whose entire wardrobe you would not give half-acrown. His hat is broken in the rim in three places; the colour was originally black; now, by reason of wear and tear, it is of a whitybrown. The crown has a large perforation in it, and you are satisfied there will be several more before it is mended. His coat bears proof on the face of it,-aye, and on the back of it, too,—that it has seen service. The collar, which is the only whole part of it, is all covered with grease. If two of the buttons remain, the third is sure to be wanting. You would never think of counting the number of holes in it; if you undertake the task, it is in such a frail state altogether, that the probability is you will have one hole more to add to the number before you have finished. The coat is fit for one thingit is not fit for any other: it would answer admirably for fastening about some 66 man of straw" in the fields, wherewith to frighten away the crows from the corn. The probability is, that he has no shirt; if he have, it is only the remains of one; it has not come in contact with water for a fortnight, and most probably will not for another fortnight to come. Whether he has a waistcoat or not, is a point you cannot determine; for his coat, if he have not a shirt, is buttoned up to his chin to conceal his deprivation of that article; if he have, it is generally necessary his coat should be closely buttoned up to his mouth to keep you in ignorance of the probable time when he and his washerwoman last met. His trousers I will not describe any farther than by saying, that they are quite in keeping with his coat and hat; one part of his wardrobe, in other words, will not shame the other. His beard has not blunted the edge of a razor for at least eight days. You see starvation in his face; the probability is he has had neither breakfast nor dinner that day, unless, perhaps, a crust of dry bread might be dignified by the name of a meal. And yet, notwithstanding all these proofs of extreme destitution, he has contrived by some means or other-means of which no one but himself knows anything-to lay his hands on two shillings or half-acrown wherewith to gamble.

6

These are specimens of the three classes of persons who are to be met with in the minor gambling-houses in the vicinity of Leicester Square, in the Regent Quadrant, and in other parts of the metropolis. It is surprising to see how rapidly those of the first class descend to the third. They hardly stop at all, in their descent, at the second. A few months suffice for the transformation from the first to the last. And so complete is the change, that you can hardly persuade yourself that he whom you now see among the third class is the same person whom you saw amongst the first, four or five months previously. Let me only add, that when once down to the lowest class, these poor wretches have, like Milton's Lucifer, "fallen never

to rise again."

Of all the passions of which human nature is susceptible, a passion for gambling is inconceivably the most pernicious. Once indulge in it, and you are inevitably hurried forward to irretrievable ruin. There is scarcely an instance on record of a person having yielded to the temptation to a certain extent, and then breaking off from it. There is a sort of fatality in it; its victim has no free-will of his own. He sees the folly of the course he is pursuing: he sees the issue too, and yet he cannot, or will not, help himself. He acts like a man who knows his destiny, and seems resolved, frightful though it be, on fulfilling it with the least possible delay. It is no use to reason with him; he only is a fit subject for being reasoned with who acts from ignorance or thoughtlessness. With the confirmed gambler it is far different. His judgment already condemns his conduct; it pronounces him to be a madman, and yet his will impels him forward in his career. Talk not to him of the claims of a wife and children; what cares he about their being thrown destitute and unprotected on an unpitying world? Apart from their interference with his gambling propensities, he may be kind enough to them. Possibly he may, so long as he has the means, be the most affectionate of husbands and the best of fathers; but much rather than that his passion for play should be denied the means of indulgence, would he see them dying in the streets of cold and hunger. You may even tell him that the inevitable consequence of frequenting the gambling-house, will not only be the beggary of himself and his family, but that he is perilling the salvation of his soul by the course he is adopting: it will all be utterly ineffectual. You make no more impression on him, than you would on the table on which he throws his dice. He has sufficient sense to know that eternal perdition is an evil; but still he will brave it rather than do violence to his gambling propensities. And when all his means of indulging his passion are gratified, what follows? Why, the probability is that he either destroys himself or sets about plundering or murdering others. If he can, by means of swindling, or fraud, or forgery, or any other secret mode of robbing society, replenish his exhausted coffers, and thus be enabled to present himself anew at the gambling table,-it is all very well; that mode, of course, is attended with less personal danger, and with the least immediate risk of falling into the clutches of the law. But if all other expedients fail, the confirmed gambler will not scruple to resort to murder. Gambling is, I believe, the source of more evils to society

in the metropolis, as well as to the individuals themselves, than any other vice which exists.'

'It is incredible in how short a time, gambling transforms the character of a man from good to bad. I could point to instances in which, in a few short months, men have been changed by the gaming table, from being the most amiable and virtuous, to the most ferocious and depraved, of their species. Crimes, the very thought of which would have shocked them beyond measure before they entered a gambling house, are committed by them without "a compunctious visiting," by the time they have been two or three months in those sinks of infamy. These dens are not only the gulf which swallows up all their money, but they become the grave of the morals and humanity of all who cross their threshold before they have been any time in them.'

Among those who frequent the second class of gaming-houses, are a very great number of city merchants, and city clerks in situations of confidence. They are called Cits by the "Greeks" and hellites, and are looked on as prime game. The city merchants resolve on becoming gamblers, under the impression that the making of a fortune by selling chests of tea, or measuring yards of lace, is not only a slow and tedious process, but a very vulgar one. To do it by gambling is much more expeditious-so they think till they try-and infinitely more fashionable. To the gaming house therefore they go quite full of money; they leave it without a farthing. They repeat the process time after time, and with the same result. By-and-by you see them in the "Gazette." Little, perhaps, do their creditors, or the public, know the real cause of their bankruptcy. The clerk has the same notions as his employer. What is a salary of 2001. or 300l. a year? Nothing at all. He can never save a stiver out of it. Surely it would be much wiser, and far more convenient, to make the sum in one night. To the gambling-house, therefore, he goes with 400l. or 500l. of his master's money: he loses the last farthing of it; and to save himself a voyage to the Antipodes, he is off at a tangent next morning to America; that is to say, provided no such officious person as Forrester interfere in the interim, and rudely prevent his setting out on his journey. Should he escape "the vigilance of the police," as the expression now goes, you see every dead wall in town placarded with large hand bills, offering a reward of 1007. or 2001. to any person who will apprehend the party who has absconded. Immediately after the "handsome reward," comes a "Hue and Cry" description of the clerk; you hear nothing more of him; there is an end of everything pertaining to him. Gambling has infinitely more to do with city bankruptcies, embezzlements, frauds, forgeries, &c., than persons unacquainted with the hells can have any idea of.

'The third class of houses are chiefly visited by noblemen's and gentleman's servants, and shopmen with small salaries. And in this fact we have the cause of the innumerable robberies which these two classes of persons commit on their masters and employers. The author of "Old Bailey Experience" is of opinion that the average amount of money lost every year in the gaming-houses by the servants of the nobility and gentry alone, is 1,500,000l. I look on this 3 A

VOL. XVI.-N.S.

as an exaggeration; but I should think 1,000,000l. is about the amount. The number of persons usually to be found at one time in one of this class of gaming-houses, is from forty to fifty. In the course of the twenty-four hours, it is calculated that one hundred and twenty persons visit one such house.' pp. 195-209.

We could illustrate the truth of some of these remarks by tragical instances within our own knowledge. For many are secretly addicted to this vice, of whose practices no suspicion is entertained by their nearest relatives. We were acquainted with an individual of steady, sober, domestic habits, a hard-working man in his business, the father of a family, who, without any known cause, exhibited a giving way of health under the pressure of secret anxiety; at length, he became suddenly insane; was sent to Bethlehem Hospital; and shortly afterwards, died. It was not till after his death, that, on examining his papers, the fatal cause of his loss of health and reason was discoveredRouge et Noir.

We shall pass hastily over the next three chapters on the grand classes of Metropolitan Society, for reasons already assigned. What the Writer says of the higher ranks, contains, no doubt, too much truth; but he is compelled to disclaim intending that his remarks should be of universal application; and of the number or proportion of instances in which they do not apply, it is impossible for either him or ourselves to form an accurate estimate. The general character of the upper ranks is very similar in all countries; and it is only by comparison that those of England can be fairly estimated, so as to afford any criterion of the influence of our national religion and institutions. We feel no disposition to turn apologists for the follies and vices of fashionable life, or for the heartless selfishness of the opulent and great; but we must think the instances of the alleged neglect of Poor Sheridan,' or the supercilious treatment of Miss Owenson, as extremely ill-chosen, and little to the point. That the great and fashionable are not to be envied, we firmly believe; and shall be glad if the readers of this chapter should learn a lesson of contentment. Nor does it admit of question, that the middle classes generally speaking, are far more virtuous, both in regard to their public and private conduct,' and more happy, than the aristocrasy. It was Voltaire, if we recollect right, who compared the English nation to their own porter,--froth at top, and dross at bottom, but the great body sound and strong. Of the middle classes, however, our Author gives no flattering picture; and we must say, that he has taken a very limited view of Metropolitan society.

In the chapter on the Lower Classes, occur some observations which we extract with much pleasure, as doing honour to the Author's feelings and principles.