our space. We propose to devote the little that remains to an attempt to formulate a few of the considerations which, if urged with a force greater than any we can claim, might possibly have some influence on all who, tempted by the attractions of the card room or the turf, are not wholly dominated by their sway.

We may start with the proposition, that the principal object of any one who gambles or bets is to win. The argument, that men usually and as a rule gamble for amusement, will not hold water. Occasionally men do play with much interest for stakes, which are of little or no moment to them. A notable instance of this may be found in the late Mr. Forster,* who was devoted to whist, but was in no sense a gambler. And in every generation there have been a limited number of men, fond of card play and betting, to whom a long run of loss would entail no inconvenience. But these are the exceptions. An enormous percentage of those, who play cards or bet, do so to make money, and cannot afford to lose. Now, it is reasonable to ask a young man to calculate before he takes his first step, what his chances are at either. If he plays cards, he must do so with men who understand the game he selects better than he does. It is conceivable that he may have as great a genius for cards as Mr. Paul Morphy had for chess, in which case he may hold his own from the commencement. But unless this is so- -and how often is it so ?—the beginner will be at a disadvantage. Among the men he plays with, even supposing all the play to be fair,

case,

a large concession-will be many who understand all the points of the game, all the finesse of which it is capable. Long experience and great labour will alone enable him to arrive at the same excellence. During the time necessary he must be a loser. The advantage will be ever against him, and, if the luck is equal, there will be a steady drain upon his resources. But what if the luck is not equal, but in his favour—a state of things every beginner hopes to realize? In such a improbable as it is, he will be encouraged to treat his winnings as income, and to adopt a system of expenditure which continued success alone can justify. When men win, they spend their money because it is in their pocket; when they lose, they equally spend it, because a little more or less does not matter. When the luck turns-as no one who plays is, or can possibly be, always successful-the mode of life will not be changed, and other resources, whatever they are, will be called upon to make good not only losses but expenditure which they would not, even

* See Wemyss Reid's 'Life of Forster,' vol. ii. chap. xi. p. 474.

M 2

if

if there were no losses, support. No one can persistently win at cards, except those who apply their whole energies and intellect to card play and make it a profession, or those who, like keepers of public tables, have a steady advantage in the conditions of the same. Such men as Deadly Smooth' in Lord Lytton's famous comedy may, and in real life many of them do, make a steady income from play. But even these are losers, because their talents and perseverance, if devoted to any other pursuit, would produce a larger return. The ordinary player must at some time find the pull against him, and will probably always find it So. The young man, whatever his status in life is and whatever his abilities, must buy his experience. He is very likely to have to pay for it more than he can afford; and, if he gets it, he can only use it by a sacrifice of a vast amount of application and energy taken from other channels. Unless he draws largely upon his powers, mental, physical, and financial, he cannot be in a position to win. The alternatives which lie before him are continued and incessant loss, or the adoption of the profession of a gambler, in which for all other purposes he will be

'Lost to life, and use, and fame,'

turning night into day, with no enjoyments and no relaxation, sacrificed to the blandishments of a worse harlot than Vivien and barely able to hear the echo of the world, 'Oh fool.'

If he bets, the chances are even greater against the beginner. The odds actually laid by book-makers are demonstrably less than the mathematical odds. It is their business to obtain, and they do obtain, a large amount of accurate information which enables them to lay certain bets with safety. Even if every horse in every race were to do its best to win, if there were no jockeys interested in losing, no owners looking forward to future handicaps, no trainers starting horses absolutely unbacked, the advantage would be with the layers, and not with the takers of odds. Putting, for the sake of argument, all knavery on one side, and we fear this is the only condition on which we can put it on one side, the ordinary backer would be unable to get prices which would, in the long run, bring him out a winner. If any one doubts this, let him take for a year the mounts of a winning jockey, the most winning jockey. Let him presume that he has had a bet on every race in which that jockey has ridden. And we confidently assert that, in no year, and with no jockey, will he find that he would be a winner. Every young man who bets thinks that he has 'information' which will lead to his success. Whence does such information come? From some one interested in deceit? from some one whose pro

fession

In

fession it is to give information in the assurance that, if he varies it enough, some of it will be right? From some one-this is perhaps the most favourable supposition-who has a boná-fide knowledge of the secrets of the stable? In the first cases it is absolutely valueless, in the last it must, ex hypothesi, be of less use to him than it is to the owner or owners of the horse. no one case can he take benefit by it. Owners of horses, never making a bet except on a horse meant to win, and with a good chance of winning, have found betting unprofitable. Clever men devoting themselves to a painstaking study of the performances of all the principal horses, understanding the conditions of each race, and carefully collecting and weighing every fact that the public can know about the state of health and powers of the horses competing, have found betting unprofitable. What possible chance can the outsider have, who acts on what he is told by a paragraph written in a newspaper, or by a horsey gentleman with a bird's-eye scarf in a club or a public-house?

But more is lost than money. And George Selwyn left out one thing, when he said that gambling consumed time, health, money, and thinking. Gambling, as Charles Kingsley says,* is almost the only thing in the world in which the honourable man is no match for the dishonourable man. The scrupulous man is weaker, by the very fact of his scruples, than he who has none. When a man begins to bet or play, he will probably only have a high feeling of honour, a strong moral sense, and his surplus time will be devoted to his new pursuit. When he wins, he will consider it folly not to make the most of his luck. More and more of the hours of the day and week will be spent in the profitable occupation. He will be lavish and generous with his winnings, but his keenness in making them will grow. When he loses, he will bear the change with equanimity at first. The tide has ebbed, but will flow again But if his luck is equal, and his skill enables him to take advantage of it, his losses will balance his gains, and the expenditure his winning has tempted him to incur must be made good from some other source. This can only be done with difficulty; and, as the difficulty grows, stronger and stronger effort must be made to meet it. Other interests in the man of leisure, other occupations in the man of business, will be more and more neglected. Domestic ties will lose their hold, the spur of laudable ambition be blunted. Big will loom before his eyes the need of recovering his losses. Other aims will lose in comparison. Even with the skilled player, who has fair chances,

soon.

* Letter to Young Men on Betting and Gambling,' p. 6.

a run

a run of bad luck is sure to come sooner or later. And, as both skill and chances are against the man who bets, the evil time, with him at least, cannot be long put off. He will grow more and more absorbed in the task of regaining his lost ground. And, sad to say, he will grow less and less scrupulous about the method of doing it. This sacrifice and that will be made. Little by little, he will recede from the standard of behaviour to which he once clung. Gradually will he whittle away the high moral sense which once controlled his actions. Slowly his character is undermined, and happy is he if the whole structure does not fall with a crash which whelms him in its ruin.

This is no imaginary picture. The records of the courts of law abound with cases in point. In some of them bankruptcy alone has followed failure. In many more a heavier penalty is incurred. The present state of things is a scandal to our cities, a grave danger to our position as a nation. It loudly calls for the anxious thought of all, who care for the welfare of the people. And well would it be if some of the energy devoted to more questionable reforms were employed in an attempt to remedy a mischief which, serious as it is, is not beyond cure.

ART.

ART. VI.-Lives of Twelve Good Men:-I. Martin Joseph Routh. II. Hugh James Rose. III. Charles Marriott. IV. Edward Hawkins. V. Samuel Wilberforce. VI. Richard Lynch Cotton. VII. Richard Greswell. VIII. Henry Octavius Coxe. IX. Henry Longueville Mansel. X. William Jacobson. XI. Charles Page Eden. XII. Charles Longuet Higgins. By John William Burgon, B.D., Dean of Chichester. Sometime Fellow of Oriel College and Vicar of S. Mary-the-Virgin's, Oxford. Second edition. In two volumes. London, 1888.

T is impossible for a writer in this 'Review' to transcribe

For many years the late Dean of Chichester had been a frequent and a valued contributor to these pages. It was here that by his brilliant series of articles on 'The Revision Revised' he so effectually discomfited the authors of the Revised Version of the New Testament, and led the public to estimate more moderately, and therefore more accurately, the value of their handiwork. It was here that several of the Essays, which compose the volumes before us, were first given to the world. Their worth and interest were immediately recognized, and a desire was widely expressed that, together with some similar writings from the same pen, they should be collected and preserved in some permanent and compendious form. The desire was in entire consonance with the Dean's personal inclination, and for some time past it had been known that he was preparing a book of Ecclesiastical Biography. Its appearance was anxiously awaited by those who are interested in the history of the Anglican Communion during the last fifty years. After repeated delays, caused by the illhealth of the writer, the book at length appears; but it appears alas! as a posthumous work; and its devout and accomplished author is numbered with those 'good men' whom he has himself commemorated; who, having loyally served the English Church in their day and generation, now enjoy the reward of their faithful service, while they cheer and stimulate their successors by the memory of their high example.

On the announcement of Dean Burgon's lamented death, there appeared in the daily and weekly press a considerable number of obituary notices, conceived indeed in a friendly spirit, but for the most part dealing rather with his peculiarities than with his excellences. We leave it to other pens to describe his many eccentricities of speech and demeanour, the strength of his political and theological prejudices, the unconventional vehemence of his controversial method. We claim the more grateful

and