Neapolitan government, situated in a desolate part of When allowed to see their friends, it was contrived the country, about forty miles east of Naples. It had in such a manner as to become the means of inflicting been for ages reserved exclusively for bandits and fresh insults; they were not permitted to approach felons convicted of the most heinous crimes, none of nearer to each other than two grated openings some whom left its gloomy walls except to undergo the fifteen feet apart, the passage between which was extreme penalty of their guilt. So fearful was its filled with turnkeys and police, who did not content reputation, that the Provincial Council, moved for themselves with turning into ridicule the sacred once by something like pity, had some years pre-interchanges of family confidence, and making sport viously published an edict, directing its discontinuance of the emotion naturally manifested, but who stopped as a place of confinement. It was, however, deemed the conversation the moment it passed the limit of the good enough for these state-prisoners, among whom commonplaces which they thought fit to prescribe, and were the Baron Poerio, the Duke di Caballino, and either terminated the interview abruptly, or obliged many other illustrious names. Here all their previous them to confine themselves to the most ordinary sufferings were aggravated tenfold. The chains with topics. There could be little pleasure in meetings which they were loaded during their removal were such as these, particularly when they were made the still retained; they slept on the bare earth, in damp occasion of punishment not only to the prisoners themrooms, whose windows, supplied with iron gratings selves, but also to the friends who visited them, the instead of glass, allowed the chill night-air to benumb slightest infringement of the arbitrary code of rules their shivering frames. They were clothed in the by either party being made a pretext for severe prison-dress commonly supplied to felons, which was punishment. never changed until it actually fell to pieces. They were surrounded by spies and sbirri, who were applauded in proportion to their harshness to the unlucky prisoners intrusted to their charge, and instantly punished or dismissed for giving them a word of kindness or look of sympathy. A priest who gave them his blessing through a grating, was immediately seized, and banished to a distant province, where he still remains under the surveillance of the police. When at length permitted to write to their families, they were only allowed to do so at stated intervals, a few at a time, and to confine themselves to the most ordinary topics, both letters and answers being invariably left unsealed, and read before delivery. After remaining at Montefusco over three years, it was considered that the number was dangerously large, or, possibly, that separating those who had been so long companions in misfortune would fill to overflowing the bitter cup they were forced to drain. They were accordingly divided, and a portion sent off to Monte-Sarchio, where a dungeon had been expressly fitted up for them in the middle of a ruined fortress. Here they fared little better-the same system of espionage and coercion being continued, of which some idea may be formed from the fact, that thirty prisoners, placed in five different rooms, were, in addition to turnkeys and police, guarded night and day by seven sentries. During six hours of each day they were allowed to take such limited exercise as the prison-yard afforded; but during the remaining eighteen, the door was never allowed to be opened on any pretext whatsoever. Nothing was visible from the closely barred windows except a patch of sky and the tops of some distant mountains. Without, there was nothing that could divert their attention from their own unhappy lot; and within, they were not allowed any of those resources which might assist in passing the time. As if to mark Heaven's displeasure against those accursed walls, Monte-Sarchio was struck by lightning in 1857, and a second time greatly injured by a violent shock of an earthquake in March 1858. But on neither occasion did their jailers relax their severity for a moment, or treat with common humanity the unhappy prisoners, whose helpless position greatly increased the horrors of their situation. Many of the anecdotes related by the exiles are tinged with the romantic colouring of their own minds, and shew, in an uneventful life where 'to-day is as to-morrow,' how fondly the mind dwells upon the most trifling incident which presents itself to break the intolerable monotony of existence. Here is one of them, in the words of a noble exile, whose winning manners and cultivated mind have gained for him many friends in this country: ‘A nightingale, as if on a mission from nature, apparently feeling for our sorrows and solitude, used to come to the boughs of a mulberry tree, and with his plaintive song express our griefs, so that he became our friend, the friend of our very hearts: we used to throng to the prison bars to listen to, and treasure his loving plaint. Ah! fond fool, he with his tender ditty awakened suspicions among the police that we had communication with the outer world, a blessing indeed which they trusted had ended for us. They shouted with their voices, and hurled sticks, but in the evenings the little nightingale came again and again with his song of solace to us; and his sympathy for patriotism brought his doom-he was shot.' The prisoners left behind at that place, worthy of its dismal name-Montefusco (gloomy mountain) -were attacked with cholera and typhus fever, when common care and medical assistance being purposely withheld, most of the cases terminated fatally, to the undisguised satisfaction of the tyrant. As they were not chained two and two in this place, it was the custom to remove each patient to a place called the Hospital, where the sufferer was placed on a filthy bed; and to prevent the possibility of escape, and lessen the small chance of recovery, a chain, attached to a staple driven into the floor at the foot of the wretched pallet, was fastened round the ankle in such a manner as to render it impossible for the patient to relieve the restlessness of illness by any change of posture. This refinement of cruelty was only once relaxed in the case of a distinguished member of the medical profession, formerly professor of medicine in the university at Naples, whose unrepining fortitude and amiable disposition won upon the stern nature of his jailers. As, however, it was necessary to report the most trifling matter to government, an account of this piece of leniency was transmitted in due course. The savage answer returned was to the effect: If he is dead, so much the better; if not, replace the chain.' When the order arrived, the sufferer was so much prostrated by sickness, that any attempt at escape was out of the question; nevertheless, the brutal mandate was instantly obeyed, and the fetters riveted on actually whilst the priest was at his side administering the last rites of his church to the dying. Much to the surprise of all, the patient survived this unparalleled martyrdom; and by the interposition of a merciful Providence, recovered, to become a free man, and to stir many a heart with indignation for his wrongs, and sympathy with sufferings so patiently borne. This gentleman, with two others, was placed in confinement two years before the rest of his compatriots, having thus been altogether twelve years in prison. Probably the prison regulations were at this time less stringent than they afterwards became; at all events, his little girl, a young heroine of six years old, who preferred any hardship to separation from her father, accompanied him to prison, and remained there a voluntary captive for four months, her infantile grace and tender affection forming a strange contrast to the harsh and forbidding aspect of everything around her. But the happiness of such companionship was considered too great for a political offender, even if fatherly affection had not shrunk from permitting such a sacrifice, and parent and daughter were separated. He was not permitted to see her afterwards, except on the shore, at some distance from the ship before leaving; but an amateurartist took a good likeness of her; and though the father was not permitted to see the original, no objection was made to his keeping the picture, which was his constant companion during the long and weary years of captivity which succeeded. So carefully did he keep it, that when liberty came at last, and found him in a deplorably destitute condition, a ragged blouse doing duty for coat, waistcoat, and shirt, the cherished portrait was preserved in safety, and brought to this country, where the simple narrative attached to it has kindled into enthusiasm many a phlegmatic British heart. In the island of Sicily, matters have been, if possible, worse. The horrors committed at the siege of Messina and Palermo have gained an unhappy celebrity throughout Europe, and earned for King Ferdinand the sobriquet of Bomba. The insurrection of 1848, which convulsed the whole of Italy, extended itself to Sicily also, where it was speedily suppressed, but not without terrible carnage on both sides. Martial law was proclaimed throughout the island, and for several years afterwards executions were of daily occurrence. The form even of a trial was not considered necessary; the suspected persons were thrown into the prisons of Palermo, and kept there year after year without any definite charge being brought against them. If brought out, the only alternative they had to expect was to be dressed in black sacks, with bare feet, veiled faces, their hands tied behind their backs, and a placard attached to their breasts, on which was written, 'L'uomo empio.' Thus attired, and escorted by large bodies of troops, the prisoners were paraded through the principal streets of the city until they arrived at the Piazza della Fiera Vecchia, or other place selected for the bloody deed. They were then placed in a convenient position, the veils lifted from their faces, to allow of their being identified, a few formalities hastily gone through, and then a firing-party of the Swiss guards stepped out from the ranks, who were generally too impatient to allow the prisoners to finish their farewell speech to the assembled throng, before their bullets completed the last act of the dreadful tragedy. The slightest suspicions were con sidered a sufficient ground for this capital punishment in its most ignominious form. The discovery of a dagger in the house, or the possession of a cartridge, was punished with death. If the obnoxious individual was too cautious to give any pretence for even the slightest charge, the clumsy device was resorted to of throwing in a pistol or stiletto through an open casement, and then sending a party of police to search the house, which was thus convicted of violating the law which forbade the Sicilians to bear arms of any description. Besides the numbers thus publicly executed, hundreds of others perished by the slow poison of foul air and long confinement, as well as the want of medical aid during the prevalence of any infectious disease. We find it stated on unquestionable authority, that when the cholera broke out a few years ago, no less than 243 state-prisoners perished from its effects in the neighbourhood of Naples alone. The same fate still threatens hundreds more, who are now languishing in the foul and noisome dungeons so plentiful in the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. The sixty-six individuals above mentioned form but a small portion of those who have suffered for their political opinions; and even of those restored to liberty, many will carry to their grave the tokens of their long captivity in shattered constitutions and premature old age. The sight of some is impaired from remaining so long in darkened rooms; the limbs of others are crippled from want of exercise, or from corroding fetters which have eaten into the flesh: one or two have been in prison for twenty years, and none for a less period than ten. To some, the boon of liberty came too late; they were too much enfeebled by long suffering to bear a sea-voyage, and had to be carried back from the ship. Some people have the unlucky art of conferring a favour in such a manner as to convert it into a fresh source of wrong. The commutation of the sentences of these political prisoners into banishment for life, was wrung from the fears, and not from the clemency of King Ferdinand. If anything was wanting to shew the revengeful malignity of his disposition, it will be found in the fact, that of the ninety-one individuals whose names are included in the decree of perpetual banishment, several had gone to their long homes eight years before it was passed. How often, as we read of the atrocities committed by the Inquisition, or see the path worn by the prisoners' feet in the hard floor of the Piombi at Venice, whilst we shudder at the tortures of Dante's Ugolino, or sympathise with the imaginary sufferings of the Prisoner of Chillon, have we complacently thanked Heaven that such horrors have long since ceased to exist! Our readers, however, may rest assured that if the secrets of every prison-house could be revealed, all past atrocities would sink into insignificance compared with those which have been lately enacted in Naples; and that, so far from exaggerating any of the above statements, we have purposely kept back others which are too shocking for publication, and too far beyond all common experience to find general belief. The manner of the final escape of these poor fellows was as romantic as the rest of their story, but far more agreeable. At Cadiz, the vessel in which they were sailing, bound for America, was joined by a young man, Raffaello Settembrini, a son of the patriot, one of the exiles. He signed articles as a seaman, and kept his incognito. When the Stromboli departed, the exiles went to the captain and demanded to be carried to England. He refused: his guarantee would be forfeited. The exiles insisted, produced Raffaelo Settembrini, attired in the uniform of the Galway packet-ships, declared they had a navigator of their own, and practically took possession of the ship. The captain turned her stem towards England; the exiles set a watch upon the compass to see that he kept her head true; and after a voyage of fourteen days, the David Stuart anchored in Cork Harbour.' and for worse, she abides with us still; and we endeavour to be kind and considerate to her, and she in return is faithful and attached to us. That we have had no changes, I do not pretend to maintain; for Mrs C- has born me two children -a boy and a girl; and as a matter of course, they required a larger amount of personal attention than she was justified in devoting to them, considering the numerous household duties that devolved So we took a nurse for the first, the boy; but when he was sufficiently old to go alone,' we dismissed his attendant, as frugal folk should. AN INDISPENSABLE PLAGUE OF LIFE. Of all the over-worked, under-paid daughters of toil, none perhaps deserve more of our sympathy, or receive less, than that domestic drudge, the maid-of-upon her. all-work. Early and late she is always at it, with no prospective reward to stimulate exertion, but, on the contrary, a positive certainty that, let her work and save as she may, she will never be able to realise a sufficiency to support her in her old age. Her life a series of changes from one kitchen to another never knowing what it is to feel that she has a permanent home-and but rarely having the sympathies of the household sufficiently on her side, to awaken in her the slightest feelings of interest or attachment in return. Then, again, how her services are often undervalued; and upon what frivolous and unjust grounds she 'has notice;' and when she leaves the house with her trunk-which, perhaps, has been secretly rummaged by her mistress, to see that all is right-what criminal indifference is often manifested as to where she goes or what becomes of her; her destination being too often some cheap lodginghouse, where the little balance of wages paid to her at leaving is soon exhausted; and exposed as she is to every temptation, she is glad to take the first situation that presents itself, no matter how uncongenial, where she will probably remain until some words' with her mistress necessitate another move, with the same attendant circumstances. I do not pretend to say that all are alike, either as regards mistresses or servants; but that this picture of many a household is a true one, who would deny that has had to listen to the weary dissertations so constantly indulged in whenever two or more matrons get together? They will tell you that the servants of the present day are not the servants of former years; that now they must have this, that, and the other;' and, moreover, that nothing is good enough for them;' with very much more of a similar description. A lady of my acquaintance applied for a servant at a register-office, and the conversation turning upon the great difficulty of obtaining good servants, and the still greater difficulty of keeping them when obtained, my friend interrogated the old lady who kept the office as to what she attributed this apparently increasing grievance. 'Oh, bless yer, mum,' she replied, 'it's all along of this here eddecation, and that there penny-postage.' Poor, honest old soul, if education were the cause of servants changing their places, what a fixture she would have been had she in early life been placed out at service! But enough of this: my object is not to moralise on 'servantgalism,' but simply to shew, by my own domestic experiences, that, rail as we may about our troubles and annoyances with servants, they are, to say the least, very necessary evils. I make this statement advisedly; and that I am justified in so doing, the following domestic incident shall shew. Mrs C and myself have lived together for some four or five years in matrimonial bliss; and although we should not perhaps be strictly entitled to contend for the Dunmow flitch,' yet as things go, we live, and have lived together very comfortably. But apart from Mrs C's natural amiability of temper, I attribute no small share of this domestic bliss to the fact, that from the day when Mrs C first claimed me as her own, we have never changed, or thought of changing, our maidservant. Through good and evil report, for better On the advent of our second, the girl, we did the same; though the world promising to shine upon us with rather a brighter face, we proposed retaining her as a permanent portion of our establishment. But the unfortunate part of the business was that the world did not shine with any brighter lustre than before, so that nurse the second had to share the fate of nurse the first; my wife-who attaches vast importance to what folks say of us-remarking that our friends would attribute this little coming down to the commercial panic, which had compelled many much richer than ourselves to reduce their establishments; although, for my own part, I can place my hand upon my heart and, sub rosa, solemnly aver that I don't believe that the panic made the difference of one penny-piece in my income; but my wife very sagely replies to this by inquiring: What's the use of having a panic at all if somebody does not profit by it?' Our domestic establishment is therefore reduced to its original complement of one; and as far as I can see, everything is done quite as well as when it was placed upon a 'war-footing.' Now, although horticulture has undoubtedly made rapid strides within the last few years, it has never yet succeeded, so far as I have been able to learn, in growing its roses without the proverbially attendant thorns; and on the same principle, our Mary' has had her drawbacks. In her own peculiar phraseology, she enjoys very bad health-in short, she is faithful, but weakly; and she has been on our hands' for days together, on more occasions than one, when we have been compelled to call in the professional assistance of certain charwomen, to my own unmitigated disgust, and to the serious derangement of Mrs C's otherwise placid and genial temper. But at the time I write, things have assumed a gloomier aspect than usual-our faithful ally is again hors de combat. It has fallen in her knee this time; and as she cannot put her foot to the ground, she has to keep her bed as a matter of course. It fell in her back last autumn, and the amount of fomentation and bleeding that had to be resorted to, to quell this mysterious it, was positively appalling. Whatever the proper medical term for this mysterious stranger may be, or whether the College of Physicians is at all cognizant of its existence or not, is a matter of perfect indifference to me individually, compared with the palpable fact, that her knee is twice its usual size, and that my household is in confusion. But worse remains behind. Hitherto, when these almost periodical visitations have taken place, we have, as before stated, called in the services of some friendly charwoman; but now even this small modicum of comfort is denied us, for a distinguished scientific society is holding its meetings in our town, and late dinners, and still later suppers, being the order of the day and night, all available charring talent has been engaged at a high premium by hotel-keepers and others; and no amount of persuasive eloquence would induce a single member of the sisterhood to relinquish her reversionary interest in the wine-bottoms,'' heel-taps,' and other good things common on these occasions, to attend to our quiet and somewhat frugal household. There was, therefore, nothing for it but to turn to and do the work ourselves. So Mrs C and myself held a council of war, in which she did all the talking, while I remained in a state of gloomy silence, brooding over the coming day and its attendant troubles. In vain my helpmate tried to rouse my flagging spirits by telling me that, before now, men had risen to eminence through the kitchen, even to the height of conversing with princes, and having their portraits engraved on the covers of books. What was all this to me? I was a leading member of a flourishing debating society, and being of a republican turn of mind, I was in the habit of publicly expressing, in strong terms, my utter want of faith in both the first and second estate of the realm. So I told Mrs C (somewhat testily, I fear) that I didn't want to converse with princes, even if I had the chance; all that I did want was, to be able to come down to breakfast at eight o'clock, and find all comfortably prepared as usual, without my having personally to take part in producing this desired result. This plainly could not be; so I was compelled to yield to circumstances, and agreed to do my share of the work like a man-or, more properly speaking, like a woman. Now, our youngest, although partaking somewhat freely from the maternal breast, is still compelled to supplement nature with a small dish of 'pap,' the manufacture of which now devolved upon me. That this is not a manly occupation, the reader will readily admit, especially for an individual six feet high, stout in proportion, and with large bushy whiskers; but still I could have borne with it, and even endeavoured to have thrown something like a halo round it, by the consideration that I was doing my duty as a husband and a father, had not one little thing troubled me, which was this-I did not feel secure from observation. I was denied the natural rights of an Englishman, inasmuch as my house was not my castle, as far as privacy and seclusion were concerned. An emissary from a neighbouring milkshop was accustomed to steal quietly up the garden, walk into the kitchen and deposit her milk; and inasmuch as she appeared to have no regular periods of advent, no amount of calculation on my part would be of any avail in preventing a collision. On one occasion, as I was stooping over the fire, sedulously stirring the contents of the sauce-pan, I heard the door quietly open, and I had but just time, ere she entered, to spring up, turn my back to the fire, place my hands under my coat-tails, and commence whistling a light and cheerful air, which, as you can well imagine, ill accorded with my feelings at the moment; for I knew that the pap was on the point of boiling, and that every second was of consequence. It was impossible to give it a stir from behind; for the creature had an awful squint, and for the life of me I could not tell which eye commanded me. Imagine my feeling, therefore, when my now practised ear plainly detected the thick, unwholesome blu-u-p peculiar to the 'pap' of childhood when in a state of ebullition. I felt that all was over,' in more senses than one, and involuntarily commenced whistling All is Lost, with tremulous variations. What was I to do? My evil genius still delayed her departure; the exigencies of the moment demanded prompt and vigorous action. A brilliant thought struck me. Happening to glance out of the window, I caught sight of a milk-can which she had left at the garden-gate. I rushed to the window, threw up the sash, and exclaimed in a stentorian voice: 'Get out, you ugly brute;' and turning hastily round to the girl who by her manner seemed to imagine that the observation was addressed to her personally-I remarked: That great dog will very soon drink up all your milk.' The ruse took; and as she clattered down the garden-walk, vowing vengeance against the canine race in general, and my imaginary friend in particular, I quietly served up the baby's breakfast as if nothing whatever had happened. Nevertheless, I would advise all those who at present look upon servants as the 'greatest plague of life,' just to try, for one week, to dispense with their services; and if, at the end of that time, they still hold to the same opinion, I would strongly recommend them to continue the experiment in perpetuity. As far as I am personally concerned, I feel humbled and contrite-humbled, in that I am compelled to acknowledge my almost childlike dependence upon the weaker sex for so large a portion of my daily comforts and necessities-and contrite, when I think of the many cross and hasty words that I have at times indulged in, when any little domestic irregularity has occasioned me annoyance. From henceforth, our 'Mary' and her office will stand much exalted in my estimation; and instead of considering her as an outsider, to be put off or on at pleasure, I shall always endeavour to look upon her as a necessary part of our domestic machinery-without which the whole must inevitably stand still-to be therefore honoured and respected; for wherefore should the head say unto the feet, I have no need of thee?' A CALIFORNIAN GAMBLING-HOUSE.* THE Plaza Grande of the city of San Francisco is alive with busy crowds, passing and repassing in all directions; some chaffering and bargaining, others looking on in idle curiosity: merchants and brokers gravely discussing prices, seeking customers, or cheapening newly arrived wares; weather-beaten gold-diggers, their stalwart frames encased in soiled worn garments, lounging carelessly along with their well-filled leathern money-bag in their girdle; newcomers, just landed from the shipping in the bay, confused and bewildered by the novel sights and sounds around them; Californian Spaniards, in their gay serapes, and heavy, ringing spurs; long-tailed Chinese, with loose blue jackets and bare throats, independent of cravats and neck-ties; swarms of smart trim seamen from the American men-of-war riding at anchor off the port; French, Americans, Germans, English, Argentines, Spaniards, South-sea Islanders, negroes, and mulattoes, all intent upon their various objects of business or pleasure; gold the magnet of attraction; gold the aim and end for which all, of every hue and of every clime, have left their distant homes. The first wild excitement, however, was past, in which numbers had madly rushed to the mountains, to see and to dig for themselves; most had already been there, and had returned completely satisfied, having altogether failed to find gold, whilst they had spent the little they took with them; and having now arrived at the conviction that there are other ways and means of making money in California, less laborious and uncertain than gold-digging. Numbers had now settled in the towns as merchants or factors, labourers or artisans, boatmen, porters, policemen, pedlers, cooks, wood-cutters, waiters, pastry-cooks, clerks; in short, anything and everything by which to make money rapidly, and then-to go back to their homes? No, to return to the diggings; for, as they said, they had not known how to set about it on their first attempt.' Of all who resorted to California, there was but one class of men whose object was neither to work This graphic picture is a translation from the German.-ED. C. J. nor to trade, neither to buy nor to sell. They came furnished with playing-cards from the United States, where entire manufactories are employed in preparing such articles, punctured, which their owners can distinguish by the touch, without turning them up. These men did nothing from the moment they stepped on shore, ay, nor on board the ship that brought them over, but handle their cards and count or weigh gold. These were, and are, the licensed gamblers, whose central force is found in San Francisco, but whose ramifications extend to the diggings around in all directions-men who, with deceit and fraud for the foundation of their business, enter California in the firm determination of amassing wealth by all means and at all risks, and not to be turned aside though robbery and murder lie in their path. England is reproached for sending her criminals to Australia; but they are saints compared with these dregs of the American people, amongst whom it is remarkable that there is scarcely one Englishman or Irishman. The most reprobate of these gamblers, and, indeed, the only ones who are a match for the quick-eyed Spaniard, so peculiarly cool and selfpossessed in games of hazard, are the Americans. From the splendid saloons of San Francisco, with their gaudy pictures and decorations, and hundreds of tables laden with gold, down to the miserable tent in the most distant mountain, where the serape, or blanket-cloak, thrown over a few boards roughly nailed together, serves as a gaming-table through the night, and at morning dawn does duty as bed and coverlet; wherever there is gold, these men are to be found, ready to rob the poor miner of the hardly earned reward of his toil; while the Spanish cloak hides both their well-filled money-bag, and the sixbarrelled revolver and sharp bowie-knife, ready for attack or defence, as occasion may require. We have not now, however, to do with the diggings; we are standing in the Plaza of San Francisco, and the twilight has suddenly spread its veil over the landscape, though the sun has scarcely disappeared behind the low coast range, and sunk into the sea to rise upon India's distant shores. But what are these large buildings, dividing Kearney Street from the Plaza, in which all seems suddenly alive and bustling? The mighty folding-doors are thrown wide open, and the brilliant light of a multitude of astral lamps dazzles the eyes of the crowds who are flowing into the halls. To the right and left, lie similar buildings, all built of brick, with iron balconies and windowshutters, to set at defiance the frequent conflagrations, which have three times already reduced this row of houses to ashes. From each there issues a stream of light; from each proceeds wild noisy music; all are thronged with eager multitudes; and the spectator hesitates which to choose as the scene of his observations. The largest and most splendid, however, is this one, over whose entrance the name of El Dorado sparkles in bright gold letters; and though still half undecided whether to venture into the lion's den, our foot once over the threshold, curiosity overpowers our scruples, and the next minute we find ourselves in the middle of the room, astonished and almost bewildered by all we see around us. We are in a vast saloon, the ceiling of which is supported by two rows of white lackered columns. A profusion of lamps render it almost as light as day. The walls are adorned with voluptuous pictures, designed, together with the noisy music, to attract loungers and sight-seers, who, once tempted within the doors, are pretty sure eventually to yield to the seductions of the gaming-tables. These tables are scattered about the room, with ample space between each to allow a number of men to sit and stand about them, and yet leave space for those who would walk up and down; the crowds who are still pressing in at the doors not being, generally, attracted to the tables until they have fully gratified their curiosity by gazing at all there is to see, and listening to all there is to hear. To the right of the saloon, behind a long counter, stands a girl, a real, living, pretty, modest-looking young girl, in a close-fitting black silk dress, her slender fingers adorned with rings, supplying her many customers with tea, coffee, and chocolate, cakes, preserves, and confectionary of all sorts; whilst at the opposite corner of the hall, a man is stationed at a similar counter furnished with wine and spirits. Lounging upon the tea-table are four or five tall uncouth young men, fixed in profound admiration of the young lady on the other side; swallowing one cup of tea after another, at a quarter dollar apiece, by way of excuse for remaining there; and, for the same reason, munching up a most unwholesome quantity of sweet-cakes and pastry. A few steps behind them stands a group of backwoodsmen, enjoying, at a cheaper rate, the pleasure of gazing upon the pretty damsel who presides over the good things; and determinedly resisting all attempts to dislodge them from their post of observation. The pretty tea-maker becomes by degrees the centre of attraction to the whole room; all who have once seen her return a second time, and few turn away without leaving behind at least their quarter-dollar, for something eatable or uneatable, were it only for the pleasure of listening to the few words she must speak in telling them the price of her wares. And wherefore is this? The maiden has certainly a very pretty pleasing face and neat figure, but is by no means a perfect beauty, and we might, in other towns, meet three or four equally pretty, or prettier girls in walking along a single street; but here it is not so. At home they have seen many such, as neat, and fair, and attractive, but not since they came to San Francisco. There were, at the time of which we speak, very few respectable women to be found there, and these few rarely, if ever, appeared in the streets. But hold; what is this? What is going on at this table, attracting such crowds of gamblers and idlers? They seem to be playing very high here, and every one presses as close as possible, the hindmost standing on their toes to get a glimpse over their neighbours' shoulders. At the table, amongst the professional gamblers and their accomplices, stands a young lad slowly shuffling a pack of cards by way of occupation until the game begins, and then eagerly watching it with his little sharp gray eyes, while involuntarily continuing to shuffle. The game bears some resemblance to that of 'lansquenet; the card thrown on the left side is for the banker, that on the right for the player; and the stake is doubled if he throws two above and two below, thus giving each player opportunity to stake on two at once. The boy, in whom we have begun to take an interest, is at most sixteen years old; he is tall and slender, yet his features would have something of a childlike innocent expression, were it not for the glittering sunken eye and sternly compressed lip. He has thrown down his pack of cards; his felt hat is pushed up from his high pale forehead, his left hand is thrust into his bosom, his right hand is clenched and resting on the table, in the centre of which piles of dollars form a wall round a heap of nuggets and gold-pieces, and little stitched-up bags of gold-dust; while three or four larger lumps of gold and stamped bars of the same precious metal are laid on the top, but more for show than for use. His stake, perhaps twenty or five-and-twenty half' eagles' (five |