werful
fairy of the poor, bestowed the gift of magic hopes. The turn of the
wheel which opens to the gambler a vista of gold and happiness, lasts
no longer than a flash of lightning, but the lottery gave five days'
existence to that magnificent flash. What social power can to-day, for
the sum of five sous, give us five days' happiness and launch us ideally
into all the joys of civilization? Tobacco, a craving far more immoral
than play, destroys the body, attacks the mind, and stupefies a nation;
while the lottery did nothing of the kind. This passion, moreover, was
forced to keep within limits by the long periods that occurred
between the drawings, and by the choice of wheels which each investor
individually clung to. Madame Descoings never staked on any but the
"wheel of Paris." Full of confidence that the trey cherished for
twenty-one years was about to triumph, she now imposed upon herself
enormous privations, that she might stake a large amount of savings upon
the last drawing of the year. When she dreamed her cabalistic visions
(for all dreams did not correspond with the numbers of the lottery), she
went and told them to Joseph, who was the sole being who would listen,
and not only not scold her, but give her the kindly words with which an
artist knows how to soothe the follies of the mind. All great talents
respect and understand a real passion; they explain it to themselves
by finding the roots of it in their own hearts or minds. Joseph's ideas
was, that his brother loved tobacco and liquors, Maman Descoings loved
her trey, his mother loved God, Desroches the younger loved lawsuits,
Desroches the elder loved angling,--in short, all the world, he said,
loved something. He himself loved the "beau ideal" in all things; he
loved the poetry of Lord Byron, the painting of Gericault, the music of
Rossini, the novels of Walter Scott. "Every one to his taste, maman," he
would say; "but your trey does hang fire terribly."

"It will turn up, and you will be rich, and my little Bixiou as well."

"Give it all to your grandson," cried Joseph; "at any rate, do what you
like best with it."

"Hey! when it turns up I shall have enough for everybody. In the first
place, you shall have a fine atelier; you sha'n't deprive yourself of
going to the opera so as to pay for your models and your colors. Do you
know, my dear boy, you make me play a pretty shabby part in that picture
of yours?"

By way of economy, Joseph had made the De