it were
open and avowed.

As you passed along Rue Conti, or Saint Louis, or the Rue Bourbon, you
could not fail to notice several large gilded lamps, upon which you
might read "faro" and "craps", "loto" or "roulette,"--odd words to the
eyes of the uninitiated, but well enough understood by those whose
business it was to traverse the streets of the "First Municipality."

Our hurrying stops soon brought us in front of one of these
establishments, whose lamp told us in plain letters that "faro" was
played inside.

It was the first that offered; and, without hesitating a moment, I
entered, followed by D'Hauteville.

We had to climb a wide stairway, at the top of which we were received by
a whiskered and moustached fellow in waiting. I supposed that he was
about to demand some fee for admission. I was mistaken in my
conjecture. Admission was perfectly free. The purpose of this
individual in staying us was to divest us of arms, for which he handed
us a ticket, that we might reclaim them in going out. That he had
disarmed a goodly number before our turn came, was evident from the
numerous butts of pistols, hafts of bowie-knives, and handles of
daggers, that protruded from the pigeon-holes of a shelf-like structure
standing in one corner of the passage.

The whole proceeding reminded me of the scenes I had often witnessed--
the surrender of canes, umbrellas, and parasols, on entering a
picture-gallery or a museum. No doubt it was a necessary precaution--
the non-observance of which would have led to many a scene of blood over
the gaming-table.

We yielded up our weapons--I a pair of pistols, and my companion a small
silver dagger. These were ticketed, duplicates delivered to us, and we
were allowed to pass on into the "_saloon_."

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

ON GAMES AND GAMBLING.

The passion of gaming is universal amongst men. Every nation indulges
in it to a greater or less extent. Every nation, civilised or savage,
has its game, from whist and cribbage at Almacks to "chuck-a-luck" and
"poke-stick" upon the prairies.

Moral England fancies herself clear of the stain. Her gossiping
traveller rarely fails to fling a stone at the foreigner on this head.
French, German, Spaniard, and Mexican, are in turn accused of an undue
propensity for this vice. Cant--all cant! There is more gambling in
moral England than in any country of my knowing. I do not speak of
card-playing about the purlieus of Piccadilly. G