law-breaking schemes find their cradle beneath its glittering lights. It
is always thronged within and without, a veritable nursery of riot and
disorder.

And oh, Bohemia, pipes, indolence and beer! The atmosphere is
impregnated with it, the dust sifts it into your clothes and hair, the
sunlight filters it through your brain, the stray snatches of music now
and then beat it rhythmically into your mind. There are some who work,
yes, and a few places outside of the saloons that seem to be animated
with a business motive. There are even some who push their way briskly
through the aimless bodies of men,--but then there must be an
occasional anomaly to break the monotony, if nothing more.

It is so unlike the ordinary world, this bit of Bohemia, that one feels
a personal grievance when the marble entrance and great, green dome
become positive, solid, architectural facts, standing in all the grim
solemnity of the main entrance of the Hotel Royal on St. Louis Street,
ending, with a sudden return to aristocracy, this stamping ground for
anarchy.




IMPRESSIONS.


THOUGHT.

A swift, successive chain of things,
That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,