to Death. But she was never again allowed to visit at that "swagger" house where she had been "rooked" so unmercifully. And when we remember how fond Society is of bragging of its little philanthropies, its "bazaars" and carefully-calculated "charities," we may, perhaps, wonder whether, among the list of good and noble deeds it declares itself capable of, it would set its face against bridge, and make "gambling-parties" once for all unfashionable and in "bad form"? This would be true philanthropy, and would be more productive of good than any amount of regular church attendance. For there is no doubt that very general sympathy is accorded to people who find that going to church is rather an irksome business. It is not as if they were often taught anything wonderfully inspiring or helpful there. They seldom have even the satisfaction of hearing the service read properly. The majority of the clergy are innocent of all elocutionary art. They read the finest passages of Scripture in the sing-song tone of a clerk detailing the items of a bill. It is a soothing style, and quickly induces sleep; but that is its only recommendation.
When not playing bridge, Society's "Sunday observance" is motoring. Flashing and fizzling all over the place, it rushes here, there, and everywhere, creating infinite dust, smelling abominably, and looking uglier than the worst demons in Dante's "Inferno." Beauty certainly goes to the wall in a motor. The hideous masks, goggles, and caps which help to make up the woman motorist's driving gear, are enough to scare the staunchest believer in the eternal attractiveness of the fair sex, while the general get-up of the men is on a par
