et stair at the end of the gallery, through muffled doors that close
upon you as you enter, and shut out like walls the hum and hubbub below,
we come upon an ill-shapen apartment, where hushed, absorbed men are
seated at desks, as at a school, each with a huge frame dotted with
numbers before him. A strange contrast to the scene without. There is a
heavy quiet in the place, disturbed only by an occasional cough, a
shuffling of feet, and the silvery ringing of little plates of glass. A
monstrous game of Lotto is this. A mere child's play of gambling,
requiring neither tact, wit, nor reasoning; a simple lottery, in fact,
dependent for success upon the accidental marking (each player upon his
own board or table) of the first five numbers that may be drawn. Now we
hear a strange rattling of wooden pieces, shaken in a bag, and as each
piece is drawn, a bustling man with an obstreperous voice, calls out the
number; not in full, sonorous German, but in broad, uncouth Platt
Deutsche (low German), and eager tongues respond from distant corners
claiming the prize. A dull-headed game is this, fitted only for the most
inveterate gamblers; but it yields money to the Stadt, and that is its
recommendation.

As the day wears on, its attractions increase. The Elb Pavilion offers a
rare treat; exquisite music, executed with vigour, delicacy, and
precision. Moreover, its frequenters are decidedly of a respectable
class. But we will not be moved; we have set our hearts upon witnessing
a play of Shakespeare's, announced for this night at the Stadt Theatre,
and that no less a one than "Hamlet, Prince of Denmark."

The Stadt Theatre in Hamburg enjoys a strange monopoly; for by the
Senate's will it is declared that no other theatre shall exist within the
city walls. Yet, curiously enough, a wonderful old woman, by some
unaccountable freak, has the privilege, or hereditary right, of licensing
or directing a theatrical establishment within the boundaries, and thus a
second theatre contends for the favours of the public; and in order to
define its position and state of existence, it is entitled simply Das
Zweite Theatre (The Second Theatre). It is an especially favourite place
of amusement with the Hamburgers, although they play an incomprehensible
jumble of unconnected scenes, called "possen," adapted solely to display
the peculiar talents of certain actors. One odd fellow there reaps
showers of applause for no other exhibition of ab