equires quickness of perception and readiness in the calculation
of chances. As each player, of course, knows how many fingers he himself
throws out, the main point is to guess the number of fingers thrown by
his opponent, and to add the two instantaneously together. A player of
skill will soon detect the favorite numbers of his antagonist, and it is
curious to see how remarkably clever some of them are in divining, from
the movement of the hand, the number to be thrown. The game is always
played with great vivacity, the hands being flung out with vehemence,
and the numbers shouted at the full pitch of the voice, so as to be
heard at a considerable distance. It is from the sudden opening of the
fingers, while the hands are in the air, that the old Roman phrase,
_micare digitis_, "to flash with the fingers," is derived.

A bottle of wine is generally the stake; and round the _osterias_, of a
_festa_-day, when the game is played after the blood has been heated and
the nerves strained by previous potations, the regular volleyed
explosions of "_Tre! Cinque! Otto! Tutti!_" are often interrupted by hot
discussions. But these are generally settled peacefully by the
bystanders, who act as umpires,--and the excitement goes off in talk.
The question arises almost invariably upon the number of fingers flashed
out; for an unscrupulous player has great opportunities of cheating, by
holding a finger half extended, so as to be able to close or open it
afterwards according to circumstances; but sometimes the losing party
will dispute as to the number called out. The thumb is the father of all
evil at _Mora_, it being often impossible to say whether it was intended
to be closed or not, and an unskilful player is easily deceived in this
matter by a clever one. When "_Tutti_" is called, all the fingers, thumb
and all, must be extended, and then it is an even chance that a
discussion will take place as to whether the thumb was out. Sometimes,
when the blood is hot, and one of the parties has been losing, violent
quarrels will arise, which the umpires cannot decide, and, in very rare
cases, knives are drawn and blood is spilled. Generally these disputes
end in nothing, and, often as I have seen this game, I have never been a
spectator of any quarrel, though discussions numberless I have heard.
But, beyond vague stories by foreigners, in which I put no confidence,
the vivacity of the Italians easily leading persons unacquainted with
their cha