420 



THE IRR1QAI10N AGE. 



tables in the back rooms of corner 

 grogeries. 



One result, therefore, of the great re- 

 formation in Belgium will be a boom at 

 Dieppe, for that is the public gambling 

 place nearest to London, and directly in 

 the path of the money-laden American 

 tourists who swarm between London and 

 Paris each season. Unless the picturesque 

 French town is too greedy it is likely to 

 become one of the most famous resorts in 

 Europe before long, and its ''petits 

 chevaux' 1 will bring in more money than 

 the town authorities will know how to 

 manage. 



At present those ; ' petits chevaux'' 

 make monkeys of the folk who hazard 

 their francs on them, for the chances 

 against the bettor are 12J per . cent, 

 whereas in the games at Monte Carlo the 

 margin in favor of the bank is only lj per 

 cent or in many cases 1 per cent. I have 

 watched the players at the Dieppe Casino 

 with close attention on several occasions, 

 and would risk a guess that not one person 

 in ten leaves the place a winner. The 

 piles of coin in the croupier's boxes grow 

 as steadily as in the cashier's till of a 

 great dry goods store and change color 

 from the white of silver to the yellow of 

 gold as regularly as if the transformation 

 were effected by machinery. 



In all probability Dieppe will take ad- 

 vantage of the situation and widen her net 

 with rouge et noir and baccaret, but at 

 present the nine little horses suffice to 

 drain her visitors of their pocket money. 

 They run in concentric circles on a board 

 eight feet in diameter, and the six-inch 

 iron steed that stops nearest to the line 

 after making half a dozen circuits is the 

 winner. Stretching out from the minia- 

 ture racetrack are the long, green-clothed 

 tables, with sections corresponding to the 

 number of the horses, and other sections 

 for combination bets. You place your 

 franc on No. 8, the track-master turns his 

 crank and proclaims, "Les jeux sont 



faites!" in tones that sound like the last 

 despairing wail of a swimmer whose 

 strength is gone. A moment of breathless 

 silence while the little horses tear around 

 in their circles, then the track master's 

 despondent sing-song, '' Numero huit." 

 There is an instant crash of the croupier's 

 rakes and the sound of the clinking of 

 silver, as if hundreds of money bags were 

 being shaken madly, and there on the 

 green cloth before you is your franc, with 

 six others added unto it. That looks like 

 good business, and not until later in the 

 evening does it appear that even if one 

 sticks to the lowest limit and bets only a 

 franc at a time the sport costs on the aver- 

 age 20 cents for each five minutes, which 

 proves expensive in time. 



Dieppe's casino is a handsome, roomy 

 building, that stretches along one of the 

 finest bits of beach on the Normandy 

 coast. Back of it are the summer homes 

 of many of the French aristocracy, and 

 shining white in the hot sun and against 

 the blue sky is a row of hotels that charge 

 fierce prices in the short, gay season, and 

 are moderate enough just before or just 

 after. A few miles back is the magnifi- 

 cent ruin of Argues, perched high on a 

 table land, whence narrow windows in the 

 great fortress or from the top of its thick, 

 mossy covered walls you can look for miles 

 up and down the fertile valley far below. 

 Bathing in the morning, a siesta in the 

 afternoon and gambling or loafing at the 

 Casino in the evening are about all that 

 one can do, or that one wants to do, in 

 the hot days when Dieppe is at its gayest. 



Further up the coast is noisier and less 

 aristocratic Boulogne, and here, too, is a 

 casino and the " petits chevaux " and bets 

 for any sum you like, whereas at Dieppe 

 the limit is 5 francs. Boulogne, too, has 

 an eye on Ostend and is hoping eagerly 

 for the downfall of the Belgian Vanity 

 Fair. CURTIS BROWN. 



