"Leah," said he, turning again at the word, "ah, yes-fine young woman-and fond of him, you say? He might do worse, certainlyof course. And now I must be off. Good-evening, Warren, good

evening."

And thoughtfully he descended the slope, Saul glaring after him; the tail of his querulousness had been docked. But the Rector had found something to think of; and instead of going straight on he struck off to the left, making for the quiet spinney at the fieldbottom, through which a track led to the derelict mill by the brook ; and there, to the low chatter of the stream as it twisted by the broken and mossy wheel, he sat him down on an old netherstone and thought.

He had done the like there many a time before; but this evening there seemed something wrong about the place, and there were other sounds in the air than that of the garrulous brook. Half annoyed, he doubled an ear to listen. Then his face turned to the old ruin as if it had spoken to him; he sat as if listening to a marvellous tale, his brows arching like kittens' backs. Suddenly they came down, showing between them a tuck of anger; this disappeared in turn and they ran up again, while through a widening mouth came a deep double breath something like "Aha-a!" His right hand lifted as if to strike his leg; instead, it stopped short and silently joined the other, to fondly rub it. Then through the bending withies he saw two figures come out from the roofless mill-the one burly and rough of aspect, the other slim and graceful, and so neat of waist that no wonder an arm was about it. And belike the face was pretty, for the taller head bent to it, and there was a low sound as of meeting lips. The light was dusky in that leafy hollow, and only a weasel might clearly see through it; but Mr. Povey could just discern a wide hat on the tilt over masses of dark gypsyish hair, and he was sure he had seen a thin red line adown a trouser leg. For the rest, as was often the case, the postman was in mufti.

Then, when they were gone, the Rector rose with face all different, and his clenched right hand met the palm of his left with a resounding smack which made a passing bat squeak with fright. "Br-r-r-h!" And the reverend man, with long purposeful strides, made for the Rectory.

[To be concluded.]

THE EXPOSITION OF BRIDGE.

A

LTHOUGH Bridge has been with us for more than seven years, no attempt has ever been made, either in book or magazine, to prove its claims to be a scientific game. They simply have been received without question, and accepted, as if established, without test.

This is strange, especially as the game did not spring from the soil like Whist and Cribbage, but reached us by an accident. It is also regrettable, for it is to be feared that when the annals of Bridge come to be written into the social history of the kingdom, the page, if not actually black, will not be pleasant reading.

The reasons for anticipating such a record are threefold.

In the first place, Bridge has turned the calendar back to more than a century ago, when the deplorable mania of card-gambling was rife among the classes, which everyone thought had been stamped out of them by their twentieth-century common-sense. That the failing happened still to survive in a very small clique was looked upon as the exception that proved the rule.

Next, because for the first time in our history the gambling vice resuscitated by Bridge has spread to our girls. The gravity of such a state of things, and its far-reaching effects in undermining our social life, of which woman is the head and guardian, need no enlargement. Everyone can realise it.

Lastly, we have covered the nation with a reproach by completely and abruptly throwing over our renowned and everywhere-played national card-game for an unknown, untried, and untested pastime. Those who ought to be authorities say that Whist is dead in this country, never to be revived. If our popular and worthy King had been suddenly dethroned from his ancient dynasty, to give place to a foreign interloper whom nobody knew, it would have been an exhibition of the quality of our patriotism scarcely more surprising.

But is Bridge a gambling game? Have we not frequently and positively been assured by the men of light and leading in it that it is not? To the latter question the answer is yes, undoubtedly.

From its very inception, advocates have laid particular stress upon the freedom of Bridge from the gambling feature. Results, however, do not uphold their view. Can it be possible that while reasoning to convince others they were seeking at the same time to persuade themselves? At any rate, they have proved unreliable guides. One has only to look around in society to realise that. The affirmative must also be the answer to the first question; and it is that topic to which the main argument herein will be directed.

I might expatiate by entering into an ethical discussion upon gambling, and the injury Society brings upon itself when it countenances it, with the baleful effect to the nation through the bad example. Also upon the great mistake in permitting it to have a footing in our homes and a part in our recreation, besides the pity of employing a delightful and stimulating pastime like cards for such a purpose. An appeal might be made to Society in general to take a leaf out of the American book, and follow a good example by banning all money-play, especially with cards, at home and in social circles, and a still stronger appeal to the individual members-through their own reminiscences of the many happy hours added to their joys of childhood by these most abused but most innocent implements-to keep their old playfellows free from taint, and prevent the pollution for their children of a stream that was pure for themselves. But I will confine my remarks to the character of the game of Bridge, and incidentally to that of the game it has supplanted.

Unlike Bridge-which has no history, no country, and no parentage-Whist has had a most honourable career, and one particularly free from the gambling blemish, to which it does not readily conform. It has been in existence for three hundred years (from about the time of Shakespeare), and in fashion and the leading game for about half its: life. It was born and bred in England. It was raised into a scienceby our forefathers, and was constantly played by them and by us. It was a favourite with hosts of our celebrities, and it has made for itself a world-wide reputation. No other game has spread so widely, or possesses so large a literature. Every nation claims its own national native card-game: the French, Écarté; the Germans, Skat; the Spanish, Hombre; the Russians, Vint; the Americans, Euchre ; the English, Whist. And the English game was at the top of the tree. Fellow-countryman, think hard upon this single comparison between both the games, and then pause to ask yourself a question. The motto of the American Whist League, the greatest card organisation in the world, is "Whist for its own sake."

If the Americans or Germans had been in our shoes, would they have discarded that national game? You might just as well propose to them to give up their national flag.

What is this wonderful new game that has done so much and promises to do so much more, that so many Englishmen1 rave about, and so many assert to be the best and most scientific game ever produced upon the cards? Are they judges? Have any of them, for instance, ever looked at the game fairly and squarely in the face, and pulled it to pieces to see whether it was made up of good honest material or only of shoddy? Not one. Advocates of Bridge have done no more than skim the surface, giving a few generalities that carry no weight; whilst whist-players have contented themselves with railing at the other card-players for deserting Whist for Bridge.

I will now endeavour to supply that deficiency; but before proceeding to do so, it will be convenient to readers not au fail with the game to state briefly its salient points. There is no new principle in Bridge. It is culled from other games. There have been in vogue for many years on the Continent various forms of Whist which embrace the naming of the trump-suit by the players instead of having it dealt, and the placing of different values on the tricks according to the suit adopted. The idea was taken from the more than a hundred-year-old game of Boston, which again is founded on the older games of Quadrille and Hombre, as well as on Whist. The novelty in Bridge simply consists of applying those features to the dummy instead of to the ordinary Whist. That has been carried out by its framers in this way. All the pack is dealt unexposed. After the players have looked at their cards, the dealer's side makes the trump by naming the suit, or it may exercise the option of playing the hand without any trump. The dealer himself has the right of selection, but if he does not care to exercise it he may pass the right to his partner. When the selection has been made, which fixes the value of the trick simultaneously with the naming of the trump or no trump, the other side may double that value; and if they double, the original side may redouble, and so on from side to side indefinitely. When the doubling, &c., is finished, the eldest hand leads in the first trick, and thereupon the dealer's partner, with out playing any of them, lays down his cards upon the table

Here, and in other places, where I refer to the English, I mean the nation. Unfortunately, there is no word in the language that expresses a native of the United Kingdom—that is, an Englishman, Scotchman, Irishman, or Welshman→→ indifferently.

as the dummy-hand-thereafter to be entirely controlled and played by the dealer, in conjunction with his own hand, without any interference or assistance whatever from his partner. The remainder of the deal is played accordingly. There are various other scores to be made, for honours, slams, &c., about which we need not trouble at present, beyond stating that the game, which is fixed at thirty points, can only be won through the score for the tricks. The normal scoring values of the tricks range as follows: two points in spades, four in clubs, six in diamonds, eight in hearts, and twelve in no trumps, for each trick above six.

It is manifest to anyone who considers the matter that when the playing-stage of the hand is reached the play resolves itself into Dummy-whist pure and simple. Now, every regular Whist-player knows by experience that Dummy-whist (that is, Whist for three players with a dummy-hand) is a game inferior in skill to the ordinary Whist for four players. No Whist-player ever plays it from choice, only from necessity. It is lopsided in the play. The advantage nearly always lies with the dummy, because that side works in thorough accord, being controlled by the one mind, who has the additional advantage of knowing what is exactly for him and against him. Where, then, does the superiority of Bridge come in? It can only be in the preliminary or declaring part of the deal-if it has any.

But there is no play, no contest there. Hitherto one has believed that it is in a contest that the highest interest and skill are evolved, but in this declaring there is none, for one side has it all to them. selves. Where, then, is the virtue that places Bridge outside of and above its fellows? It does not possess it. It exists only in the imagination. What is assumed to be a virtue is simply a gambling instinct, created by the introduction of different values in the suits, for which there is no call or necessity in the game, so far as skill is concerned.

Let us examine more closely into this to make the matter clear. If the game had embraced a contest between the two sides as to which of them should ultimately fix the trump-suit, then there would have been an object in the differing values, in order that one suit might be bid against another-the highest prevailing. Here there is no strife, and varying values are consequently uncalled for, and without logical meaning. If a hand be given to a player at Whist, and he is informed that he will be allowed to make his own trump from it, his experience and skill will tell him that there is in it only the one particular suit, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, for him to