Before quitting the country, I visited Monaco, partly with a view to see what I had heard sufficient talk about, the Casino of Monte Carlo. The principality, shrunk to moderate dimensions, is now visited almost exclusively on account of the Casino. Few trouble themselves about the old walled town on the rocky peninsula, though it is interesting from historical circumstances. Occupying a pleasant situation on an elevated plateau east from the town, Monte Carlo consists of the Casino, a hotel, and a few villas, shops, and restaurants. The whole are intermingled with gardens, promenades, and terraces. On the principal terrace grow some fine date palms. The place has an air of splendour. Everything has been done to render it attractive. Much money must have been spent by M. Leblanc, the lessee of the Casino, which bears a considerable resemblance to the similar establishment at Homburg. The edifice comprehends several large and very highly-decorated apartments for the gaming-tables, balls, and concerts. There is likewise a reading-room, provided with a profusion of English, French, German, American, and other newspapers, open freely to visitors from morning to night. A band of musicians plays in the open grounds twice a day. _Les jeux_ are of the usual character—_rouge et noir_ with cards, and _roulette_. As the railway station is at the foot of the slope immediately behind, the Casino can be reached many times a day in a quarter of an hour from Mentone, and in less than an hour from Nice. The resort is considerable, more particularly from Nice; every train carrying a flock of persons of both sexes with an appetite for gaming. Natives of the district are, I believe, forbidden to enter the establishment, but this is a rule which could not be easily enforced. I heard of cooks and waiters from the hotels in Mentone occasionally winning or losing a five-franc piece. It would be easy to enlarge on the gambling which, day by day, Sunday included, goes on in this authorised temple of Pluto; but with every disposition to say something condemnatory on the subject, one is awkwardly reminded of the old injunction about first taking the mote out of your own eye before trying your hand on the eyes of others. On this matter of Monte Carlo, I feel as if my mouth were shut by a knowledge of prevalent gaming practices at home—I mean the wide-spread system of betting on horse-races, which is nothing else than inveterate and disreputable gambling under the cover of sport and fashionable usage. Wandering about the sunny knolls near the Casino, I had pointed out to me a pretty spot on the sea-shore, as the original site of the shrine of Ste Dévote, the patron saint of the small sovereignty. I had been lately reading the legend of this highly appreciated female martyr, which I may condense into a few lines, for the amusement of those who care for this class of stories.