scores. For this purpose he is generally
in collusion with the other player in distinctive costume,
whose business it is to let him know by a series of bells
and signals when the players are not looking, and can be
easily thrown down. A sharp fall of this sort gives rise
to no end of banter and good-natured drollery, directed
against the two players who are "it."

Should a player who is thus thrown backward save himself
from falling by sitting down in the lap of a female
player, he scores one. Any player who scores in this
manner is entitled to remain seated while he may count
six, after which he must remove himself or pay philopena
No. 2.

Should the player who controls the crank perceive a player
upon the street desirous of joining in the game by entering
the car, his object should be: primo, to run over him
and kill him; secundo, to kill him by any other means in
his power; tertio, to let him into the car, but to exact
the usual philopena.

Should a player, in thus attempting to get on the car
from without, become entangled in the machinery, the
player controlling the crank shouts "huff!" and the car
is supposed to pass over him. All within the car score
one.

A fine spice of the ludicrous may be added to the game
by each player pretending that he has a destination or
stopping-place, where he would wish to alight. It now
becomes the aim of the two players who are "it" to carry
him past his point. A player who is thus carried beyond
his imaginary stopping-place must feign a violent passion,
and imitate angry gesticulations. He may, in addition,
feign a great age or a painful infirmity, which will be
found to occasion the most convulsive fun for the other
players in the game.

These are the main outlines of this most amusing pastime.
Many other agreeable features may, of course, be readily
introduced by persons of humour and imagination.

Number Fifty-Six

What I narrate was told me one winter's evening by my
friend Ah-Yen in the little room behind his laundry.
Ah-Yen is a quiet little celestial with a grave and
thoughtful face, and that melancholy contemplative
disposition so often noticed in his countrymen. Between
myself and Ah-Yen there exists a friendship of some years'
standing, and we spend many a long evening in the dimly
lighted room behind his shop, smoking a dreamy pipe
together and plunged in silent meditation. I am chiefly
attracted to my friend by the highly imaginative cast of
hi