OF GAMES.
Come, thou complaisant cards, and cheat me
Of a bad night, and miserable dreams.
Shakspeare.
'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
To peep at such a world,—to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
Cowper.
There is no amusement for a town or country-house, where people like to stay at home, so perfectly innocent and amusing as games which require a little brain.
It is a delightful feature of our modern civilization that books are cheap, and that the poets are read by every one. That would be a barren house where we did not find Scott, Byron, Goldsmith, Longfellow, Tennyson, Browning, Bret Harte, and Jean Ingelow.