Philondas was going to sail for it, and when he brought the lumber Timotheus was abroad. Philondas collected the freight and the lumber was stored on Timotheus's lot in the Piræus." Similarly, he continues, the charge for the cups was made, not when Timotheus borrowed them, but when Pasion had to pay for them. Pasion, he explains, had not asked their immediate return, because Timotheus owed him so much beside and because he trusted him. Apollodorus did not, however. He had refused to allow the general to "swear off" the debts, for he had found him "often an obvious perjurer in public and private affairs." Indeed, Timotheus "would not even keep his hands off sacred things for his covetousness." Plutarch, in his Life of Demosthenes, says Timotheus lost his case. Nothing is said about interest. Possibly this was discounted in advance, as was certainly the practice among the money-lenders. More probably the consideration was political. One more glimpse we get of Apollodorus and one more of Pasicles and of Phormio before the House of Pasion passes into oblivion. Apollodorus had suffered for an ill-timed effort to divert to the national defence a part of the money Athens was accustomed to spend on public amusement. To propose such a thing had been made by the demagogues a statutory offense. It was not till quite too late that Demosthenes secured from the thoroughly frightened populace a provision very similar to that for which it had imposed, apparently in 349, the huge fine of fifteen talents on Pasion's son. On second thought the fine was reduced to one talent, but even this was, he declares, a third part of his estate. He paid it, however, and with a persistence characteristic of Athenian politics, set about squaring accounts with one Stephanus, the immediate author of his discomfiture, who was a low follower of the demagogue Eubulus, the "peaceat-almost-any-price" leader of his time. Possibly he may have been the same Stephanus who went with Æschines on his embassy to Philip of Macedon in 346. It was not till 343 that Apollodorus saw, in the passing unpopularity of the pacifist party, his opportunity to get quits with Stephanus. He did it by bringing charges against Neæra, whom Stephanus claimed as his wife, while Apollodorus under took to show that she could not be that in law, because she was no citizen, and disreputable as well. Condemnation would have involved slavery for her, loss of civil rights for the children, and a fine for Stephanus. The result is unknown. Accuser and defendant vanish alike from the scene. The last appearance of Phormio and Pasicles can hardly be placed more than three years later. A new law of naval commands, made necessary by the foreign policy of Demosthenes, had been adopted in 340. Phormio and Pasicles seem to have sought relief from some part of the very onerous duties imposed by this measure on men of property, and in a suit that arose in consequence two orations against Pasicles were composed by the professional speech-writer Hyperides. Nothing more than this is known of the suit or of its outcome, but it is pleasant to find that the guardian and the ward of thirty years before were in accord and presumable partnership to the last. And so the curtain falls on the House of Pasion. New York City. BENJAMIN W. WELLS. GAMES It appears from Herodotus the Halicarnassian that Cyrus the Persian was on the whole a gentleman, and that Croesus the Lydian, was technically speaking, "a character"; so that to call a man a Croesus and mean nothing but his riches is to neglect the better parts of Croesus, namely his wit and humanity, as well as the interesting precipitancy of his fortunes. Furthermore it appears that the Lydians were an engaging and peculiar people; for when in the days of Atys, the son of Manes, there was great scarcity through the whole land of Lydia, they bore the affliction patiently until, finding it did not pass away, they set themselves to devise remedies. Various expedients were discovered, such as dice, hucklebones, and handball; and many games were invented, except tables, which they do not claim as their own. At last this method in the treatment of famine was adopted; namely, to engage in games on one day so entirely as not to feel any craving for food, and the next day to eat and abstain from games. In this manner they passed eighteen years. Yet the affliction continued, and eventually part of the people were obliged to emigrate. Would that they had emigrated to America! Fortunate Cyrus, so successful and yet a gentleman! Fortunate Croesus, so fallen and yet more interesting as a man than as a moral! Fortunate Lydians, practical yet unexpected, stoical yet with gaiety, lovers of games, sportsmen and good losers, who crowned their ill luck with laurel! But indeed the Lydians did not "invent" dice and hucklebones and handball, any more than the Athenians invented tragedy, however much by genius and subtle knowledge of the qualities of games they may have improved them. Games are not invented, but developed. The Elizabethan boy, who cried "Ducdame!" to call fools into a circle, proved the antiquity of his sport by the Latin of his invitation [duc ad me], and in my time of such pleasures that same taboo, or touch-and-immunity, game was called "Kingsland," which name in similar fashion harks back to the past. The king's land is taboo ground. You step on it at your peril. It is occupied by a fleet footed infection, who cannot go out of it but who invites you inside to disaster, who is bewitched and will pass the bad "medicine" or virulent bacilli on to you if he can. Games are growths. And like all growths they admit of classification, and are subject to the laws and influences of evolution. They have their orders, families, and species, their conservation and variation of type. The variations are often new and arise within our own memories and observations, but the species are generally old, and the orders prehistoric. Morley's Universal Library is a useful collection, but Henry Morley was a slovenly editor. In the "Popular Songs of Ireland" of that collection, in the prefatory note to "The Victorious Goalers," it is said that "Hurling, or Goal, a favorite Irish game, which has been called by Mr. Arthur Young the cricket of savages,' resembles the Scotch game of golf"; whereas the description following shows that "hurling, or goal," has no resemblance to either cricket or golf, except that in all three one hits a ball with a stick. "Hurling, or goal," is the game which the American boy calls shinny, which game, regulated and ordered, and played on smooth lawn, or ice, or roller rink, becomes hockey; or on horseback, polo. Lacrosse is the same game in principle, the ball being thrown with a net instead of driven with a mallet. Football, basket-ball, and push-ball (but not baseball) are the same game, with the differences that arise from a different kind of ball, large and inflated instead of small and solid, differently propelled. The essential is the same. But golf belongs to the same family as croquet; the holes correspond to the wickets, and the last hole to the stake. A third game family includes bowling, quoits, shuffle-board, and curling, also collaterally ringtoss, and even marbles and "nigger baby." Cricket and baseball more distantly — seems related to duckon-the-rock, constituting a fourth game family. The principle of the shinny family consists in having two groups of contestants trying to drive a ball or puck through or over one or two opposing goals or lines. The principle of the quoit or shuffle-board family is throwing or propelling something at a mark from a fixed position or distance, and so it is connected with all target shooting. Indeed, the shinny type includes a kind of target shooting, but it is dynamic, a contest of speed, shifting and kaleidoscopic, while the quoit or target family is static and deliberate. The latter relates back rather to hunting, the former to war. The principle of duck-on-the-rock, cricket, "two-old-cat," and baseball is that, when the ball is struck or the duck knocked off, you run for the base, wicket, or refuge, and are caught if the ball arrives, or the duck is replaced and yourself touched, before you arrive. Even in baseball you have to be touched to be out" unless you are "forced off." These are touch-immunity-and-refuge games, and so connected with "tag" and “Kingsland." The immunity is a species of taboo. "Counting out rhymes" are echoes of old incantations for the determination of guilt, or where a victim was needed. child on whom the last syllable falls of Eeny meeny miny mo, Cracky feeny finy fo, Each or whatever the variant,-is set free; and when all but one have been freed, this one, at whom fortune has pointed her relentless finger, is "it." To be "it" in the game that follows is generally an unenviable distinction, from which the victim makes all effort to escape by touching someone else and passing on the infection. of his ill luck. In Madagascar the word for "it" is "boca," which means" leper." Fortune dwells in the region of the incalculable and loses her divinity whenever her mystery is penetrated. The "eeny meeny" formula contains twelve words or counts, and its appeal to fortune would seem specious, and the victim easily predeterminable by the counter. But to any tribe which could not count, the mystery would be as impregnable as death; and indeed it does not come to my recollections of childhood that we ever attempted to violate the sanctity of chance, or that such a possibility ever occurred to us, although to count twelve must have been well within our capacities. The great family of "luck" games - dice and roulette, guessing games, luck and calculation games with fingers (mora) or shuffled cards-have always been the gambling games par excellence. As to why men will bet more readily on chance than on |