At the present interesting period of English history, Sunday appears to be devoutly recognized among the Upper Ten as the great “bridge” day. It is quite the fashion--the “swagger” thing--to play bridge all and every Sunday, when and whenever possible. During the London “season,” the Thames serves as a picturesque setting for many of these seventh-day revelries. Little gambling-parties are organized “up the river,” and houses are taken from Saturday to Monday by noted ladies of the half-world, desirous of “rooking” young men, in the sweet seclusion of their “country cots by the flowing stream”--an ambition fully realized in the results of the Sunday’s steady play at bridge from noon till midnight. At a certain military centre not far from London, too, the Sunday “gaming” might possibly call for comment. It is privately carried on, of course, but--tell it not in Gath!--there is an officer’s wife--there are so many officers’ wives!--but this one in particular, more than the others, moves me to the presumption of a parody on the Immortal Bard, thus: An officer’s wife had play-cards in her lap-- And dealt and dealt. “What tricks!” quoth I! “They’re tricks, you bet!” the smiling cheat replied-- “My husband is ‘on duty’ gone, And ‘green’ young subalterns are all my game, And till they’re drained of gold and silver, too, I’ll do, I’ll do, I’ll do!” And she does “do.” She has found out the way to make those “green young subalterns” pay her bills and ruin themselves. It is a thoroughly up-to-date manner of spending the Sunday.