The most amusing thing to any philosophical frequenter of the rooms, is
to see the sudden gyrations of fortune's wheel. One gentleman at
Baden-Baden, a Russian, was so elated after an unparalleled run of good
fortune, that he went out and ordered a glorious feed for himself and
friends at the restauration; but during the interval, while dinner was
preparing, he thought he would go back and win a little more. His good
fortune, however, had deserted him, and he lost not only all his
winnings, but every florin he was possessed of, so he was compelled to
countermand the dinner. On the arrival of his remittances, determined
not to be balked of his repast this time by want of funds, he paid for a
spread for twelve beforehand; but his luck was very bad, and he actually
went back to the restaurateur, and, after some negotiation, sold him
back the dinner at half-price. The money he received was, of course,
very speedily lost. Another, a student of Heidelberg, won at a sitting
970 florins, but disdaining to retire without a round thousand, he
tempted fortune too long, and lost it all back, as well as his own
money. The most absurd thing was, that not having any friends in Baden,
he was driven to return "per pedes" to his university, a distance of
more than one hundred miles. It is a very rare occurrence for the bank
to be broken, though the newspapers state that such a thing happened
three times at Baden-Baden during the present season,--a statement which
we are inclined to place in the same category with the wonderful
showers of frogs and gigantic cabbages which happen so opportunely to
fill any vacant corner. When, however, it really takes place, the rooms
are only closed for an hour or two, and the play soon commences again.

The most painful incident is, the frequency of suicides during the
season, any account of which Monsieur Benazet, for obvious reasons,
prevents reaching the public. When any thing of the sort occurs, the
place most commonly selected for the tragedy is a summer-house a little
way out of the town, on the road to the Alt Schloss, whence the poor
victim can take a last lingering look on the scene of his ruin. One
young man, in our time, attempted to blow out his brains at the
roulette-table, but was fortunately prevented, and a fortnight's
detention in the House of Correction very much cooled his ardor for
making a "dem'd disgusting body" of himself. Indeed, it has ever been a
passion with your Frenchmen to