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We all know how a number of what are technically termed serious people went to Exeter Hall to listen to the music of the ‘Traviata,’ what no possible temptation would have induced them to hear within the walls of a theatre. I will not question the propriety of a matter only to be settled by a reference to conscience; but as the music and the words–for the airs were sung–were the same, the hearers were not improbably in the enjoyment of as emotional an amusement as though they had gone for it to the Queen’s Theatre. Now, may not these railway insurances be something of the same kind? May it not be a means by which deans and canons and other broad-hatted dignitaries may enjoy a little gambling without “going in” for Blind Hooky or Roulette? Regard for decorum would prevent their sojourning at Homburg or Wiesbaden. They could not, of course, be seen “punting” at the play-table at Ems; but here is a legitimate game which all may join in, and where, certainly, the anxiety that is said to impart the chief ecstasy to the gamester’s passion rises to the very highest It is heads and tails for a smashing stake, and ought to interest the most sluggish of mortals.

What a useful addition, then, would it be for one’s Bradshaw to have a tabular view of the “odds” on the different lines, so that a speculative individual, desiring to provide for his family, might know where to address himself with best chance of an accident! One can imagine an assurance company puffing its unparalleled advantages and unrivalled opportunity, when four excursion trains were to start at five minutes’ intervals, and the prospect of a smash was little short of a certainty. “Great attraction! the late rains have injured the chief portion of the line, so that a disaster is confidently looked for every hour. Make your game, gentlemen–make your game; nothing received after the bell rings.”