it's more sporting than fretting my brains out in a
dirty city like London or Paris, and trying to find a way out of my
tangle. Heads I win, tails----well, devil take it, tails doesn't
matter. I've lost, anyway."

It reminded me somehow of the title of a famous story: "Never Bet the
Devil your Head." But there's no need to feel righteous. We all do
it. We yield to despair. A wise man said, "Gambling is the real sin
against the Holy Ghost because no man should be so unfaithful to his
God-given reason as to resort to chance, and all things are possible
for the man who believes."

All things are possible for a man, for a nation, for a Europe, no
matter in what plight they find themselves, if only they will yield to
the Spirit.

However, it is not of much use talking in this wise to a scoffer. He
that maun to Cupar maun to Cupar. We're all in the same express train,
plunging towards the Riviera.

The wild shore of North-western Italy and Southern France, tamed with
villas and white halls, and luxurious with palms and vineyards hinting
of North Africa. You roll along a magnificent coast to the
Principality of Monaco, and Europe's formal garden of sin. It makes
much difference whether you arrive there in despair, or just in a
spirit of curiosity, or for a change, or "to make a little money," or
for your health, or whether you just land up there through weariness of
travel. But you always find Monte Carlo has been arranged for your
arrival. It is serious; it is smart and clean. Everything seems first
class. There is something of the smartness of execution morning when a
court-martial sentence is being carried out.

Yes, there are no poor at Monte Carlo; a poor person is thought to be
ugly in himself, and is not allowed to dwell there. Even an
ill-dressed person might be conducted to the frontier. No beggars are
allowed. No bits of dirty paper or refuse are lying in the streets,
and certainly there are no weeds in the gardens. The profits of the
gambling-tables provide the most efficient municipality in the world,
and no one who lives in Monaco is charged any taxes; the revenue
derived from roulette covers all that and more besides. At the same
time, no actual resident is allowed to stake his money at the tables.

Everything here is perfect. It has been produced like the scenery of a
piece, and when you arrive the curtain goes slowly up, and it is your
first night. The beauty which you see is strang