The Cotton Factory Times. — 1888-05-18 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

WAS.D. Spaniard who had squandered a rich patrimony in Brazil. It is said, and no doubt truly, that many of the suicides here are cranks and unfortunates who would probably have taken their own lives if they had Dever seen Monte Carlo. Things being at a desperate pitch, they rake together the little that they can command and come here to take the chance for better or worse. If they win, life will be gay again; if they lose, as well have done with it at once. The picturesque thing is to see how quickly and adroitly the defunct is whisked out of sight, the blood stains wiped up, and the circumstances forgotten. "People commit suicide everywhere," say the managers of the Casino; "and thirty-five per year is not a high figure for a principality like Monaco." I was quite touched this afternoon by the confession of a bright young English boy, who had won a prize in graduating from his school, and had been given by his proud father a three months' trip to Italy before entering upon his business career. He had spent a week at Paris, then came to Monte Carlo, mainly because a school chum was coming this way, and invited him to stop over and risk a sovereign. He had won at first, as novices usually do, then the luck had turned, and he had staked and lost until his friend, the teMDter, had to lend him enough to go home with and tell his disgrace. " It's the last outing the governor will ever give me, and I deserve it, was all the poor boy could say, as he sat in the concert-room this afternoon, trying in vain to listen to the music and forget his grief. Conversely, there is a little French bride here from somewhere near Toulouse, who has come down with her rather gaudily-dressed Alphonse to spend their honeyMoon amid these gaities. She has begun her role early, and already carries the family purse. If Alphonse wants an absinthe or a paper of cigarettes she will give him the money to buy it, but he must ask her for it. It was wholly her idea that they mutually decided to try honeymoon fortune at the game. She would attend to it. Squeezing in to the edge of a roulette table she laid a five-franc piece on No. 11. It was the merest chance that she put it there, of course, and that a moment later the ivory ball turned up in that number. With head fairly swimming, she saw the croupier pile up forty Napoleons on her luck coin. And so within ten minutes she had won, without knowing how or why, nearly a thousand francs, and had come out into the great vestibule to count it and rejoice with Alphonse. "All the expenses of our trip paid, and now I shall have the silver vinaigrette amid the red umbrella, nest-ce-pas ?" And they go out in great glee, resolved to leave Mcnte Carlo by the first train. To-morrow we shall probably find them here again, their thousand francs gone, some of their own money with it, and the vinaigrette and red parasol as far off and impossible as ever. So it goes. If people had the wisdom and courage to stop when they had won a few thousand francs and go home, the bank would long ago have closed its gilded door and turned the Casino into a sanitarium or hotel. But such is poor, greedy, human nature, the easy conquest of unearned wealth sweeps away every impulse but that of avarice, and enables the bank, playing with a cool, steady head, to maintain all this costly magnificence, and amass 8,000,000 francs profits per annum.—Correspondeuce, Chicago Inter Ocean.