IN A WINTER CITY.
time had few rivals, perhaps, indeed, no equals,
By what strange irony of fate, by what
singular cjruieal caprice of accident, has this
fairest of cities, with her time-honoured towers
lifted to her radiant skies, become the universal
hostelry of cosmopolitan fashion and of fashion¬
able idleness ? Sad vicissitudes of fallen fortunes !
—to such base uses do the greatest come.
It is Belisarius turned croupier to a gaming¬
table ; it is Ca3sar selling cigars and news¬
papers; it is Apelles drawing for the "Albums
pour Eire; " it is Pindar rhyming the couplets
for " Fleur de The ;'* it is Praxiteles designing
costumes for a Calico-ball; it is Phidias form¬
ing the poses of a ballet!
Perhaps the mighty ghosts of mediaeval Flo¬
ralia do walk, sadly and ashamed, by midnight
under the shadow of its exquisite piles of marble
ind of stone. If they do, nobody sees them:
the cigarette smoke is too thick.
As for the modern rulers of Floralia, they have
risen elastic and elated to the height of the situa«
tion, and have done their best and uttermost to de-