of Banquo at Macbeth's feast. To pacify and quash this terrible bogie is the chief aim and end of all the social kangaroos. The Sunday's observance used to be the bogie's great "innings"; but, with an advance in manners and morals, nous avons changé tout cela! And Society spends its Sundays now in a fashion which, if its great-grandmamma of the early Victorian era could only see its ways and doings, would so shock the dear, virtuous old lady that she would yearn to whip it and shut it up in a room for years on bread and water. And there is no doubt that such a wholesome régime would do it a power of good!
At the present interesting period of English history, Sunday appears to be devoutly recognized among the Upper Ten as the great "bridge" day. It is quite the fashion—the "swagger" thing—to play bridge all and every Sunday, when and whenever possible. During the London "season," the Thames serves as a picturesque setting for many of these seventh-day revelries. Little gambling-parties are organized "up the river," and houses are taken from Saturday to Monday by noted ladies of the half-world, desirous of "rooking" young men, in the sweet seclusion of their "country cots by the flowing stream"—an ambition fully realized in the results of the Sunday's steady play at bridge from noon till midnight. At a certain military centre not far from London, too, the Sunday "gaming" might possibly call for comment. It is privately carried on, of course, but—tell it not in Gath!—there is an officer's wife—there are so many officers' wives!—but this one in particular, more than the others,
