e regarding those addresses
at which Viennese society disports itself when the ledgers are closed
and the courts have adjourned. The Viennese, resenting the intrusion of
outsiders upon his midnight romances, holds out no encouragement for
globe-trotting Don Juans. He refuses to be inspected and criticised by
the inquisitive sensation hunters of other nations. Money will not tempt
him to commercialize his gaiety and regulate it to meet the morbid
demands of the interloper. Hence the external aspect of sobriety. Hence
the veneer of piety. Hence the sepulchral silence of the midnight
thoroughfares. Hence the silence and the desolation which meet the
roaming tourist.

In this respect Vienna is different from any other large city in
Europe. The joys of Parisian night life are as artificial as cosmetics.
They are organised and executed by technicians subtly schooled in the
psychology of the Puritan mind. To the American, all forms of pleasure
are excesses, to be indulged in only at rare intervals; and Paris
supplies him with the opportunities. Berlin, and even Munich, makes a
business of gaiety. St. Petersburg, patterning after Paris, excites the
visitor with visions of gaudy glory; and London, outwardly chaste,
maintains a series of supper clubs which in the dishonesty of their
subterranean pleasures surpass in downright immorality any city in
Europe. Budapest is a miniature Babylon burning incense by night which
assails the visitor's nostrils and sends him into delirious ecstasies.
San Francisco and New York are both equipped with opportunities for
all-night indulgences. In not one of these cities does the sight seeker
or the joy hunter find difficulty in sampling the syrups of sin.
Mysterious guides assail him on the street corners, pouring libidinous
tales into his furry ears, tempting him with descriptions like
Suetonius's account of the Roman circuses. Automobiles with megaphones
and placards summon him from the street corners. Electric
signs--debauches of writhing colour--intoxicate his mind and point the
way to haunts of Caracalla.

But Vienna! He will search in vain for a key to the night life. By
bribery he may wring an admission or obtain an address from the hotel
clerk; but the menage to which he is directed is, alas, not what he
seeks. He may plead with cabmen or buy the honour of taxicab drivers,
but little information will he obtain. For these gentlemen, strange as
it may seem, are almost as ignorant of the g