EASY GAMES WITHOUT TOYS

INDOOR.

BLIND MAN’S BUFF

“SEEING’S BELIEVING.”

Consists in one person having a handkerchief bound over his eyes, so as to completely blind him, and thus blindfolded trying to chase the other players, either by the sound of their footsteps, or their subdued merriment, as they scramble away in all directions, endeavouring to avoid being caught by him; when he can manage to catch one, the player caught must in turn be blinded, and the game be begun again. In some places it is customary for one of the players to inquire of Buff (before the game begins), “How many horses has your father got?” to which inquiry he responds, “Three.” “What colours are they?” “Black, white, and grey.” The questioner then desires Buff to “turn round three times, and catch whom you may,” which request he complies with, and then tries to capture one of the players. It is often played by merely turning the blindfold hero round and round without questioning him, and then beginning. The handkerchief must be tied on fairly, so as to allow no little holes for Buffy to see through. Blind Man’s Buff is a very ancient pastime, having been known to the Grecian youths. In England it formerly went By the name of Hoodman Blind, because it was customary to blind Buff with his hood.

BOB-CHERRY.

Attach a cherry to a piece of string, and then fasten it to a door, sufficiently high to compel the player to jump a little in order to catch the cherry in his mouth. The cherry is then set swinging; and the players, ranging themselves in line, jump at the cherry, one after the other. This game is productive of much amusement, and may be kept up for a long time.

BUFF.

In this game one of the players enters the room, armed with a poker, with which he taps on the floor. “Where do you come from?” inquires one of the company. “Alas! from poor Buff, who is full of grief.” “And what did he say to you?” “He spoke thus,” is the reply—

“Buff said ‘Baff,’
And gave me this staff,
And bade me not laugh
Till I came to his house again.”

Having thus spoken, the messenger leaves the room. While he has been delivering his speech, the company, however, endeavour to make him laugh, by asking him any absurd questions that may present themselves to their imagination. If they do not succeed in this, the emissary of the great Buff delivers himself of a more lengthy address:—

“Buff says ‘Baff’ to all his men,
And I say ‘Baff’ to you again;
But he neither laughs nor smiles
In spite of all your cunning wiles,
But keeps his face with a very good grace,
And carries his staff to the very next place.”

CONCERT.

A noisier game than this could scarcely be desired by the most boisterous of our young friends. The players having selected a “conductor,” seat themselves round him in a circle. The conductor now assigns to each a musical instrument, and shows how it is to be played. When all are provided with their imaginary instruments, the conductor orders them to tune, and by so doing, he gives each musician a capital opportunity for making all sorts of discordant noises. When the different instruments have been tuned, the conductor waves an unseen bâton, and commences humming a lively air, in which he is accompanied by the whole of his band, each player endeavouring to imitate with his hands the different movements made in performing on a real instrument. Every now and then the conductor pretends to play on a certain instrument, and the player to whom it belongs must instantly alter his movements for those of the conductor, and continue to wield the bâton until the chief player abandons his instrument. Should a player omit to take the conductor’s office at the proper time, he must pay a forfeit. The fun of this game greatly depends upon the humour of the conductor, and the adroitness with which he relinquishes his bâton and takes up the instruments of the other players.

CONSEQUENCES.

The first player writes an adjective on the upper part of a slip of paper, and then folds the slip so that the written word cannot be seen by the next player, who writes the name of a gentleman, real or imaginary, on the paper, which he passes to another after having folded it over again. The third player writes an adjective; the fourth, a lady’s name; the fifth, the name of a place; the sixth, what the gentleman said to the lady; the seventh, the lady’s reply; the eighth, the consequences; and the ninth, what the world said about the whole affair. One of the players now unfolds the slip and reads what has been written by the different persons engaged in the game, adding a few words to unite the disjointed members of the little narrative. As a specimen of the ludicrous result which arises from each player’s ignorance of what has been written by his companions, we give the following pathetic tale, in which the words and phrases printed in italics represent those written on the slip of paper:—“The ill-favoured Peter Wilkins met the adorable Jenny Jones in the silver mine of Potosi. He said to her, ‘Will you love me then as now?’ and she replied, ‘When did I refuse you anything?’ The consequences were, he drowned himself in the water-butt and she married the baker, and the world said, ‘Served them right!’” When there are only three or four players, the slip of paper is to be passed round from one to another until it is filled up. When the players are numerous, three or four slips may be commenced simultaneously by different persons.

CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS.

This game will be best described by a short dialogue.

Harry.—I am going to put a question in a whisper to Tom, who is seated on my right hand, to which he will reply in the same tone. He will then put a question to his next neighbour, and receive his answer. When the tour of the circle is made, I shall commence by stating aloud the question put to me by my left-hand neighbour, answering it by the reply received in answer to my own from Tom. He will then do the same, giving my question and his next neighbour’s reply.—(Whispers to Tom.) Of what use are the bellows?

Tom.—To blow up the fire.—(To Charles) Of what use is a fire-engine?

Charles.—To put out a fire.—(To John) Of what use is a plough?

John.—To plough up the ground.—(To James) Of what use is a cap?

James.—To cover the head.—(To Edward) Of what use is a shoe?

Edward.—To protect your foot.—(To William) Of what use is a black pin?

William.—To fasten your collar with.—(To Harry) Of what use is a barometer?

Harry.—To tell the weather.—(Aloud) William has just asked me the use of a barometer? Tom replies, “To blow up the fire!”

Tom.—Harry has asked me the use of the bellows; and Charles replies, “To put out the fire!”

Charles.—Tom wishes to know the use of the fire-engine, and John tells him, “To plough up the ground,” &c.

Any mistake is punished by a forfeit.

DUMB MOTIONS.

The players form sides, and decide who shall be masters and who men. The principal aim of the men is to keep working as long as possible, and to prevent the masters taking their places. The men consult secretly among themselves, and decide upon some trade or profession, the practice of which may be certain movements of the arms, hands, or legs. They now range themselves opposite the masters, and the foreman tells them the first and last letters of the trade they are about to exercise; as for example, C—r for carpenter, D—t for druggist, B—h for blacksmith, and so on. The men now set to work and express in dumb motions the various labours belonging to the craft they have chosen. Let us suppose that they have selected the trade of blacksmith: one of the players will appear to be blowing the forge bellows, another will seem to be filing something in a vice, while others will be violently exerting themselves by wielding imaginary sledge-hammers round an unseen anvil. If any of the men speak at their work, or make use of inappropriate gestures, the whole side is out. The masters are allowed one guess each, and if none of them can hit upon the right trade, the men tell them their occupation, and then fix upon another. If the masters can guess the name of the trade, the men are out and become masters. The men need not continue their labours until all the masters have guessed, but may stop working, and demand their wages, after having plied their craft for a reasonable time. When the name of a trade consists of two words, the men must tell the first and last letter of each word, as C—h B—r, for coach builder.

FAMILY COACH.

The chief player in this amusing game must possess the faculty of inventing a long story, as well as a tolerably good memory. This player gives to each of the others the name of some person or thing to be mentioned in the story he is about to relate. For example, he may call one “the coachman,” another “the whip,” another “the inn,” another the “old gentleman,” another the “footman,” another “the luggage,” and so on, until he has named all the persons engaged in the game. The story-teller now takes his stand in the centre of the room, and commences his narrative; in the course of which he takes care to mention all the names given to the players. When the name of a player is mentioned, he must immediately rise from his seat, turn round, and sit down again, or else pay a forfeit for his inattention; and whenever “the family coach” is named, all the players must rise simultaneously. In the following example of a story, the names given to the different players are printed in italics: “An old gentleman, dreading an attack of the gout, resolved to pay a visit to the hot wells of Bath; he therefore summoned his coachman, and ordered him to prepare THE FAMILY COACH (all the players rise, turn round, and sit down again). The coachman, not liking the prospect of so long a journey, tried to persuade the old gentleman that THE FAMILY COACH was out of repair, that the leader was almost blind, and that he (the coachman) could not drive without a new whip. The old gentleman stormed and swore upon hearing these paltry excuses, and ordered the coachman out of the room, while the little dog sprang from under his master’s chair and flew at the calves of the offender, who was forced to make a precipitate exit. Early the next morning, THE FAMILY COACH belonging to the old gentleman stopped at an inn on the Bath road, much to the surprise of the landlord, who had never seen such a lumbering conveyance before. The family coach contained the old gentleman, the old lady (his wife), and the little dog that had made such a furious attack on the poor coachman’s legs. The landlord called the landlady, who came bustling out of the inn to welcome the old gentleman and old lady. The footman jumped down from behind THE FAMILY COACH, and helped the old gentleman and the old lady to alight, while the boots and chambermaid belonging to the inn busied themselves with the luggage. The little dog trotted after the old lady, but just as it was going into the inn, the coachman gave it a cut with his whip. The little dog howled, upon which the old gentleman turned round, and seeing the coachman with his whip raised, he seized him by the throat. The footman came to the assistance of his friend the coachman, and the ostler belonging to the inn took the side of the old gentleman. The landlord, landlady, chambermaid, boots, cook, stable-boy, barmaid, and all the other inmates of the inn, rushed into the road to see what was the matter, and their cries, joined to the yells of the little dog and the screams of the old lady, so frightened the leader, the white horse, and the brown mare, that they ran away with THE FAMILY COACH.” Of course this tale might have been continued to any length, but the specimen we have given will be sufficient to give the story-teller some idea of what is expected from him to keep up the fun of the game.

FROG IN THE MIDDLE.

This is a highly amusing, though very simple game. One player seated on the ground is surrounded by his comrades, who pull and buffet him till he can catch one of them, when the person so caught takes his place, and is buffeted in like manner. As the players sport round the Frog, they usually cry, “Frog in the middle—can’t catch me!” but they frequently find that this is vain boasting, as Froggy does catch them now and then.

THE FOUR ELEMENTS.

The party being seated in a circle, the player who has been chosen to commence the game takes a knotted handkerchief, and throws it suddenly into another’s lap, calling out at the same time either “Earth!” “Water!” “Air!” or “Fire!” If “Earth” be called out, the player into whose lap the handkerchief has fallen must name some quadruped before the other can count ten; if “Water!” he must name a fish; if “Air!” a bird; and if “Fire!” he must remain silent. Should the player name a wrong animal, or speak when he ought to be silent, he must pay a forfeit and take a turn at throwing the handkerchief; but should he perform his task properly, he must throw the handkerchief back to the first player. Those who have never joined in this simple game can have no idea of the absurd errors into which the different players fall when summoned unawares to name a particular kind of animal.

HAND.

The game of Hand is of great antiquity, and is common to almost every nation, whether savage or civilized. In many of the rural districts of England this universal pastime is known by the name of “Coddem.” To play at Hand, sides must be formed, and the players of each side must seat themselves at a table opposite their antagonists. Chance decides which of the sides shall first hide the piece; which may be any small object that can be easily held in the closed hand of one of the players. One of the fortunate players now exhibits the piece to his opponents; having done which, he cries out, “Hands down!” at which signal he and his comrades put their hands out of sight, and in the language of the game, commence “working the piece,” which operation is performed by shifting the piece from hand to hand, so as to deceive the opposite players as to its whereabouts. When the piece has been properly worked, the chief player calls out, “Hands up,” and he and all his comrades simultaneously place their closed fists on the table. The top player on the opposite side has now to fix upon the hand in which the piece is concealed. There are two ways of guessing, either of which he may adopt; the first is to point at once to the hand supposed to contain the piece, and cry out, “Hand!” The second mode of guessing is to point to those hands which appear to be empty, saying with each guess, “Take that hand away!” and when most of the hands have been removed from the table, to fix upon the most likely-looking one among those that remain. If the guesser can find the piece without making a mistake, he claims it for his party, and is entitled to guess again when the opposite side regains it; but if he makes a mistake, either by ordering the hand that holds the piece to be removed, or by “handing” an empty fist, his antagonists retain the piece, and having concealed it, the second player attempts to discover its whereabouts. From our description, the reader will probably regard Hand as a mere frivolous game of chance; but we can assure him that chance has little to do with the discovery of the piece. A good Hand player watches the faces of his opponents while their hands are engaged in working the piece under the table; he scrutinises the different hands, and does not allow himself to be misled by any of the cunning devices which the hiders employ to throw him off the right scent; again, when he has the piece in his possession, he takes care not to let a tightly-clenched fist, a guilty smile, or an anxious expression, betray the fact to his wary antagonist.

HOT BOILED BEANS.

In this game, one of the players is sent out of the room, while the others hide a handkerchief or any small article that can be easily secreted. When the article has been concealed, the door is opened, and the seeker is invited to enter in these words: “Hot boiled beans and butter; walk in and find your supper.” The seeker now sets to work to look for the hidden article. When he approaches the place of concealment, his playmates must give him notice of it, by telling him that he is “rather warm,” “very hot,” or, if he gets very near it, that he “burns.” When he wanders away from the object of his search, he is told that he is “cold;” and if he persists in his mistaken course, he is informed that he “freezes.” Should the seeker succeed in finding the hidden article, another player goes out of the room in his stead.

HOT COCKLES.

One player with his eyes bandaged lays his head on a chair, or in another player’s lap, while the others strike him on his back with their open hands. In this unenviable position he remains until he can guess who strikes him, when the striker takes his place. The poet Gay describes this pastime in the following lines:—

“As at Hot Cockles once I laid me down,
And felt the weighty hand of many a clown,
Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I
Quick rose, and read soft mischief in her eye.”

HOW? WHERE? AND WHEN?

One of the players is sent out of the room, while the others fix upon a subject, which may be anything to which the three questions, “How do you like it?” “Where do you like it?” and “When do you like it?” will apply. When the subject has been decided upon, the out-player is summoned. He now puts the first question to the nearest player, who returns him a puzzling answer; he then passes to the next, and repeats the same question; then to the next, and so on, until he has made the round of the room. If none of the answers enable him to guess the subject, he tries each player with the second question, and if the answers to this leave him still in the dark, he solicits a reply from each to the third and last question. Should the player fail to guess the subject after asking the three questions, he pays a forfeit and takes another turn outside; but should he succeed in guessing it during his rounds, the player last questioned must pay a forfeit, and go out of the room in his place. The in-players should always endeavour to hit upon some word that has two or three meanings for a subject, as such a word renders the answers extremely confusing. For instance, if Jack be the subject decided on, one of the players may say, in answer to the first query, that he likes it “fried,” referring to fish called the Jack; in answer to the second, that he likes it “before the kitchen fire,” referring now to a roasting-jack; and in answer to the third, that he likes it when he is “dressing,” now regarding the subject as a boot-jack.

HUNT THE SLIPPER.

This old-fashioned pastime is so generally known that it is scarcely necessary to describe it; however, as it forms one of the merriest indoor sports for the long winter evenings, it would be absurd to omit it in this work. Several boys seat themselves in a circle on the ground, and another, taking his place inside the ring, gives a slipper to one of them, by whom it is immediately and secretly handed to one of his neighbours; it is now passed round from one sitter to another, with as much dexterity as possible, so as to completely perplex the “hunter” (or player standing in the middle) in his endeavours to “chase the slipper by its sound,” and who must continue his search until successful. The player in whose possession it is found must in his turn “hunt the slipper,” whilst the former hunter joins the sitters.

HUNT THE RING.

A game almost similar to the former. A piece of tape, on which a ring is fastened, is held by the players as they stand in a circle, with one in the middle. The ring is passed from hand to hand, and the hunter’s business is to find out in whose hand the ring is.

HUNT THE WHISTLE.

A boy who has never seen the game played is elected hunter; the others seat themselves on the ground, as in Hunt the Slipper. The hunter, having been shown the whistle, kneels in the centre of the circle, and lays his head in the lap of one of the players until the whistle is concealed. While he is in this posture, the whistle is to be secretly attached to the back part of his jacket or coat, by means of a piece of string and a bent pin. One of the players now blows the whistle and drops it, and the hunter, being released, is told to find it; but this is no easy task, as he carries the object of his search about his own person. As the hunter kneels in the centre of the group, the different players blow through the whistle and drop it, as the opportunities occur. The puzzled hunter is sometimes fairly tired out before he discovers the trick that is played upon him. We need scarcely say that the whistle should be very small and light.

MAGIC MUSIC.

This is a very similar game to [Hot Boiled Beans]. One player having been sent out of the room, the others arrange some simple task for him to perform on his return. When this has been done, he is summoned by the magic music, which is played by one of his comrades, either by tapping a tea-tray with a key, or by rattling the poker and tongs together. The boy who has been sent out of the room must perform his appointed task under the guidance of the musician, who so regulates his performance on the rude instruments that the music gets loud and noisy when the puzzled player does what he ought not to do, and grows soft and quiet when he does anything towards the performance of his task. To render this game more intelligible, we will suppose the task to be the removal of a certain chair from one room to another. The player having entered the room is saluted by the magic music, the unmeaning clatter of which only confuses him at first. He walks towards the side of the room where the chair is stationed, and as he approaches it the clatter grows fainter; this informs him that he is in the right path. He touches the table, but removes his hand at the sound of the music, which suddenly gets terribly noisy. He touches the chair; the music ceases. He now knows that he is expected to do something with this particular chair, so he very naturally sits down upon it; but he jumps up directly he hears the “clatter, clatter, clatter” of the music. He lifts the chair, and as he does so the music grows soft again. He now turns the chair upside down; carries it into the middle of the room; places it on the sofa; but all to no purpose, as he cannot stop the continual clatter of the magic music. At last he carries the chair into the adjoining room; the music ceases, and his troublesome task is accomplished. In this noisy but amusing game the players go out of the room, and have tasks set them in turns. The musician generally retains his office throughout the game.

POST.

This exciting game may be played by an unlimited number, and is particularly adapted for a large party. One of the players, called “the postman,” has his eyes bandaged as in [Blind Man’s Buff]; another volunteers to fill the office of “postmaster-general,” and all the rest seat themselves round the room. At the commencement of the game the postmaster assigns to each player the name of a town, and, if the players are numerous, he writes the names given to them on a slip of paper, in case his memory should fail him. These preliminaries having been arranged, the blind postman is placed in the centre of the room, and the postmaster-general retires to some snug corner, whence he can overlook the other players. When this important functionary calls out the names of two towns,—thus, “London to Halifax,”—the players who bear these names must immediately change seats, and as they run from one side of the room to another, the postman tries to capture them. If the postman can succeed in catching one of the players, or if he can manage to sit down on an empty chair, the player that is caught, or excluded from his place, becomes postman. The postmaster-general is not changed throughout the game unless he gets tired of his office. When a player remains seated after his name has been called he must pay a forfeit, or if the game is played without forfeits he must go to the bottom of the class, which is represented by a particular chair, and to make room for him all the players who were formerly below him shift their places.

PROVERBS.

One player leaves the room, and while he is absent the rest fix upon some proverb. The words are then distributed among them, and each player, in reply to a question asked by the guesser, has to introduce his particular word. When all the words have been introduced, the guesser has to guess the name of the proverb, and another player takes his place. If, however, he cannot make it out, he has to leave the room again.

LIST OF PROVERBS.

PUSS IN THE CORNER.

Four players take their stations in the four corners of a room, and a fifth, called “Puss,” places himself in the middle of it; the players in the corners then change places by running to the opposite ends, and Puss must endeavour to get into one of the vacant places before the opposite player is able to reach it; if he can do so, the player left out becomes Puss.

RED-CAP AND BLACK-CAP.

The players sit round in a circle, each taking a colour. Thus one is red-cap, another black-cap, and so on. One of them, who takes the place of master, and has no colour, taking up a cap says: “Hullo, here’s a false stitch. Who made it, blue-cap?” Blue-cap then answers, “Who, sir? I, sir?” “Yes, you, sir!” “Not I, sir.” “Who then, sir?” “Yellow-cap, sir.” Yellow-cap then starts up and says, “Who, sir? I, sir?” and goes through the dialogues, giving another colour. The player who neglects to start up when his colour is mentioned, or who does not repeat the question correctly, pays a forfeit.

SHADOW BUFF.

Shadow Buff differs very materially from [Blind Man’s Buff], but it is equally amusing. A large piece of white linen should be fastened neatly up at one end of room, so that it hangs quite smooth; Buff (not blinded) seats himself on a low stool with his face to the linen, and a table, on which is a lighted candle, should be placed about four or five feet behind him, and the rest of the lights in the room extinguished. Buffy’s playfellows next pass in succession, between the candle and him, distorting their features in as grotesque a manner as possible—hopping, limping, and performing various odd antics, so as to make their shadows very unlike their usual looks. Buffy must then try to guess to whom the shadows belong, and if he guesses correctly, the player whose shadow he recognises takes his place. Buff is allowed only one guess for each person, and must not turn his head either to the right or left to see who passes.

SLATE GAMES.

Birds, Beasts, and Fishes.—“Now, Tom,” said Harry, “get your slate and pencil, and I’ll show you such a jolly game. Well now, look here, I have put down h × × × a. Now that stands for a beast’s name, the first and last letters of which are h and a, with three letters between, represented by the crosses.”

“Let’s see,” replied Tom, scratching his head, “I know—Hare.”

“You muff! There are only four letters in ‘hare,’ and five in my word. Try again—mind you have only three guesses; so look out.”

Tom wondered again for a minute, and then suddenly blurted out, “I know—Horse.”

“Wrong again,” replied Harry; “the last letter of Horse is e and not a. Now be careful, Tom, for this is your last turn.”

Again Tom scratched his head, bit his fingers, and after meditating for at least two minutes and a half, shouted out in a moment of inspiration—“Hyena!”

As he was right, it now became his turn to put down a name. So he wrote on the slate s × × × × × w, at the same time telling Harry it was a bird; for according to the rules of this game you must say whether this name represents a beast, a fish, a bird, an insect, or a reptile.

Harry in a minute shouted “Sparrow!” and so the game went on; and such a capital game did Tom and Harry have, that they sent this account of it to us in the hope that we would make it known to the world in “Every Boy’s Book.”

French and English.—On the slate should be drawn a plan somewhat like the [following]. The dots represent soldiers, one side being termed French and the other English. Each player is provided with a sharply pointed pencil, and the game is played as follows:—English, keeping the point of his pencil on a spot denoted by a cannon, draws it quickly across the slate in the direction of the other army. The pencil naturally leaves a line to mark his track, and if this mark passes through any of the men belonging to the other side, they are considered dead. The game is over as soon as all the men on one side are dead. Each player has a certain space on the slate allotted to him, and he may dispose his men in whatever part of it he pleases. The track of the pencil must be straight or curved; any shot in which there is an angle does not count. In p. 38 we give a [battle-field] where the strife is ended. In this the English side has killed all the opposite side in eight shots, while the French in eight have only been able to kill nine men.

Noughts and Crosses.—This is a capital game, and one which every school-boy truly enjoys. A [figure] is drawn as follows, and the object of the one player is to draw three crosses in a line before the other can draw three noughts. Thus A begins by drawing a + in the centre division; B follows with a nought in the top right-hand corner. A then draws a + in the bottom right-hand corner, because by this means he gets two crosses in a line, and spoils one of B’s chances. B in a hurry instantly places a 0 in the top left-hand corner, and A follows by placing his + between the two 0’s. B then, seeing that in the centre line A already has two crosses, places a 0 in the third vacant space of the line; while A, as a last resource, plants his + in the second space of the left-hand line. Then when B puts a 0 in the centre space at the left-hand, A places a + in the bottom left-hand corner, and the game is drawn, the [plan] standing as above.

TRADES.

Every player, except one who holds the office of reader, selects a trade or profession, which he must retain throughout the game. When all have chosen their trades, the reader opens a book at random, and reads a passage from it aloud; but when he comes to any common noun, he looks at one of the tradesmen, who must instantly name some article that he is supposed to have for sale, or some implement connected with the exercise of his craft. By this substitution of one noun for another, the most pathetic passage is converted into an indescribable jumble of absurdities. In the following burlesqued extract from an Eastern tale, the words in italics are supposed to be supplied by the different tradesmen, in place of the nouns omitted by the reader:—

“One offered the prince a bucket of the most precious mutton chops of Golconda; another a curious piece of a Wellington boot, made by a European artist; another a piece of the richest plum-pudding from the looms of China; another a gridiron, said to be a sovereign remedy against all poisons and infectious diseases; another a choice piece of the most fragrant Turkey rhubarb, in a warming-pan, inlaid with acid drops; another a coffin full of genuine treacle; another a rocking-horse of the purest breed of Arabia; and another a Flanders brick of exquisite beauty. The whole court of the palace was overspread with gingerbread-nuts; and long rows of slaves were continually passing loaded with corn-plasters, tenpenny-nails, bees’-wax, and other articles of high price.”

TRUSSED FOWLS.

Two boys having seated themselves on the floor, are trussed by their playmates; that is to say, each boy has his wrists tied together with a handkerchief, and his legs secured just above the ancles with another; his arms are then passed over his knees, and a broomstick is pushed over one arm, under both knees, and out again over the other arm. The “trussed fowls” are now carried into the centre of room and placed opposite each other, with their toes just touching. The fun now begins; as each fowl endeavours, with the aid of his toes, to turn his antagonist over on his back or side, and the one who can succeed in doing this wins the game. It frequently happens that both players turn over together, to the great amusement of the spectators. On board ship these comical encounters frequently take place between the boys, who are trussed by their elder shipmates.

THE TWO HATS.

This game, although only two persons are engaged in it at a time, furnishes much amusement, from the contradictory nature of its words and actions. The rules relative to it are as follow:—If three mistakes are made by the person who responds to the inquiries of the player who brings the hats round, and whom for distinction’s sake we will call the questioner, he must pay three forfeits, and is out of the game; when the questioner desires the respondent to be seated, the latter must stand up; when he begs him to put his hat on, he must take it off; when he requests him to stand, he must sit; and in every point, the respondent must take special care to do always the very reverse of what the questioner wishes him. The questioner may sit down, stand up, put his hat on, or take it off, without desiring the respondent to do so, or giving him the least intimation of his intention; the latter must, therefore, be always on his guard, so as to act in a contrary way in an instant, else he incurs a forfeit. These rules being settled, the game is simply this: one player places a hat on his head, takes another in his hand, and gives it to one of the company; he then begins conversing with him, endeavouring both by words and actions to puzzle him as much as he can, so as to cause him to pay a forfeit. We will give a slight specimen of a dialogue, describing the accompanying movements of the hats, in which A is the questioner, B the respondent:

A. (taking his hat off.) A very beautiful evening, sir.

B. (putting his hat on.) Yes, indeed, a most lovely one.

A. (putting his hat on, and sitting down, B. instantly taking his off and getting up.) Pray be seated, sir; I really cannot think of sitting while you stand (gets up, and B. sits down). Have you been out of town this year? (takes off his hat.)

B. (putting his on.) I have not yet, but I think I shall, before (A. sits down, B. gets up) the beauty of the season has entirely passed away, venture a few miles out of town.

A. (putting his hat on.) I beg ten thousand pardons, you are standing while I am sitting; pardon me, your hat is on—you must pay a forfeit.

It generally happens, that before the dialogue has been carried thus far the respondent has incurred three forfeits, and is, of course, out; the questioner then goes in succession to the others, and the same scene is repeated by each: the conversation, it is almost needless to add, should be varied as much as possible, and the more nonsensical it is the better.

WHAT IS MY THOUGHT LIKE?

The leader of the game commences it by asking each of his companions in turn, “What is my thought like?” to which they reply at hazard, by mentioning anything that first comes into their thoughts, of course avoiding naming the same thing twice over, as that incurs the penalty of a forfeit. The leader carefully notes down all the answers he receives, and then revealing his thought, desires to know what the thing thought of resembles in what it has been compared to.

John.—Charles, what is my thought like?

Charles.—A young girl.

John.—James?

James.—A queen.

John.—Now, Harry?

Harry.—A lion.

John.—Tom?

Tom.—Beauty.

John.—You, William?

William.—An oak-tree.

John.—Alfred, it is your turn.

Alfred.—A beautiful woman.

John.—Andrew?

Andrew.—Hope.

John.—Arthur?

Arthur.—A hedgehog.

John.—Ben?

Ben.—A rose.

John.—And you, Cecil?

Cecil.—A vine.

John.—My thought was a rose; so now, Charles, tell me why a rose is like a young girl.

Charles.—Because it is loveliest when only half-blown.

John.—And why a queen?

James.—Because the rose is the queen of all flowers.

John.—Harry, why is a rose like a lion?

Harry.—Because it is one of the emblems of England.

John.—And why, Tom, is it like beauty?

Tom.—Because it soon fades.

John.—William, why is it like an oak?

William.—Because both spring from the earth.

John.—And you, Alfred; why is a rose like a beautiful woman?

Alfred.—Because its fragrance often remains after the charms are faded.

John.—Andrew, why is a rose like hope?

Andrew.—Because in returning sunshine it forgets the past storm.

John.—Arthur, why is a rose like a hedgehog?

Arthur.—Because its thorns defend it from a rough grasp.

John.—You, Ben, having fixed upon the same thing as myself, must pay a forfeit. Cecil, why is a rose like a vine?

Cecil.—Because in old times they were both considered essential to a banquet. I can think of nothing better.

EASY GAMES WITH TOYS, OUTDOOR.