Bohemian Days

ng provinces of France, thinking as little of the sunshine, and the harvesters of flax, and the turning leaves of the woods, and the chateaux overawing the thatched littl

n world; route of the first class, six horses and daily; route of the second class, semi-weekly and f

t him to work. He can never be faithfully said to have learned to walk; and recalls, as the first incident of his li

ry pine woods, where the owls hooted at silence; over red, reedy, slimy causeways; in cane-breaks and bayous; past villages where civilization looked westward with a dirk between its teeth, and cracked its horsewhip; past rich plantations where the negroes sang afield, and the planter in the house-por

led with other vehicles-stocks, shares, currency-but the cards were still his mainstay, and he was well acquainted

in what seemed chance; principles underlying luck

eal, and fair play, and it was yet possible to know just how many

folded man to spin the ball; it could be counted just how many tim

shut all themes, affections, interests, from his mind. He neither loved nor hated any living being. He was penurious i

u the game, one hundred and fifty

h; they pass the French frontier, and see from their windows the forges of Belgium, throwing fire upon the river Meuse. Still, hour after hour, though th

e soldier, laying down

riends will build mock-castles upon it, and ins

play ten thousand francs a month for three successive years, and while they discuss chances, expedients and experiences, the Siebern-gebierge drifts by, they pass St. Goa

e him a perspective, to which not all the marvels of art or nature afford comparison: a snug little room, with a table of green baize in the centre of the floor, and about the ta

tching the play, with its voice like a baby's cry; and the paper wher

tting its guilt and coquetry for its avarice. The pale defaulter from over the sea hazards like one whose treasure is a burden upon his neck, and the roué-

goes heedlessly, slaying or anointing where it stays, and the gold as it is raked up

is passionless eyes, which, like sponges, absorbed whatever they saw, but nothing revealed. At last his

next slid over the table edge, and silently deposi

nto a black department of the board; "clink! tingle!" cried the money, changing hands; bu

click!" "clic

e, half corpse-like, as he stood, waiting for the thi

francs replace the hundred he took away-"Whizz!" goes the ball; "click!" stops the ball;