the Egyptians, as suggested by the dissertation of Court de Gebelin, would require the unwearied energy of one of those brazen-bowelled scholars who flourished at Alexandria when ancient science and art, sinking into a state of second childhood, had again found a cradle in Egypt. Oh, Isis, mother of Horus, how is thy image multiplied! Though changed in name, millions still worship it, ignorant of the type of that before which they bow. [6] All is symbol: the cards of the gamester are symbolic; full of meaning of high import, and yet he is ignorant of it, cares not to know it, though Court de Gebelin would teach him; is indifferent about his soul, and prays only that he may hold a good hand of trumps,—symbol again! [7]

As cards are printed on paper, from engraved blocks of wood, and as wood-engraving appears to have suggested the art of typography, or printing from moveable types, Breitkopf combines in one general essay his inquiries into the origin of playing cards, the introduction of linen paper, and the beginning of wood-engraving in Europe; [8] this essay being but a portion of the author's intended History of Printing. Singer [9] follows very nearly the same plan as Breitkopf; but though his Researches form a goodly quarto, both in point of size and appearance, he yet has not looked into every corner. The wide field of Playing Cards still admits of further cultivation; for, though often turned up by the heavy subsoil plough of antiquarian research and well harrowed by speculation, it remains undrained.

In the 'Nouvelles Annales des Voyages,' [10] we find a dissertation by M. Rey, on Playing Cards, and the Mariner's Compass; apparently two incongruous things, yet indissolubly connected by the fleur-de-lis, which is to be seen on the drapery of some of the court or coat cards, and which also forms an ornament to the north point. It appears that this dissertation on cards and the compass is but a fragment of a work composed by M. Rey, on the flag, colours, and badges of the French monarchy. Judging of his talents, from this "fragment," he appears to have been admirably fitted to write a general history of cards; and it is to be regretted that he did not give to his so-called "fragment," that comprehensive title, and introduce the essay on the mariner's compass and the history of the French flag as incidental illustrations of the fleur-de-lis, for certainly the fragment on cards,—rent from a history of the French flag,—does seem a little out of place, in a general collection of voyages and travels, unless, indeed, it be there introduced as a traveller's tale.

Mons. C. Leber, one of the most recent writers on Playing Cards,[11] is an author, whom it is very difficult to follow in his devious course; for though he is always picking up something that appears to relate to his subject, he yet does not seem to have had any clear idea of what he was seeking for. The grand questions, he says, are, "Where do cards come from; what are they; what do they say; and what ought we to think of them?" These questions, however, Mons. Leber, by no means undertakes to answer. He confines himself, as he says, to a very narrow path—a very crooked one too, he might have added—avoiding the wide and flowery field of conjecture, but diligently amassing facts to guide other inquirers into the origin and primary use of Playing Cards. He is certain that they are of ancient origin, and of Eastern invention; and that primarily they constituted a symbolic and moral game. He professes to be guided in his researches by the evidence of cards themselves; but though a diligent collector of cards of all kinds, he does not appear to have been successful in extracting answers from his witnesses. They all stand mute. In short, Mons. Leber, notwithstanding his diligence as a collector of cards, and his chiffonier-like gathering of scraps connected with them, has left their history pretty nearly the same as he found it. In the genuine spirit of a collector, he still longs for more old cards,—but then, how to find them? Such precious reliques are not to be obtained by mere labour; they turn up fortuitously, mostly in the covers of old books, and as none that have hitherto been discovered explain their origin and presumed emblematic meaning, it is a chance that the materials for a full and complete history of Playing Cards will ever be obtained. "In the mean time," says Mons. Leber, "we must wait till this work of time and perseverance shall be accomplished." [12] To interpret his words from his own example, "to wait," may mean, to keep moving without advancing, like a squirrel in a wheel. Notwithstanding all the old cards that have been discovered, and all that has been collected on the subject, from both tale and history, "how far are we from possessing," exclaims Mons. Leber, "and who shall ever amass, all the elements necessary for a positive history of playing cards." [13] Thus much may serve by way of introduction, and as evidence of the "capability" of the subject.

Man, as a gambling animal, has the means of indulging in his hopeful propensity, as soon as he has acquired a property either real or personal, and can distinguish odd from even, or a short straw from a shorter. The first game that he played at, in the golden age of happy ignorance, would naturally be one of pure chance. We have no positive information about this identical game in any ancient or modern author; but we may fairly suppose, for no one can prove the supposition to be false, that it was either "drawing lots," or guessing at "odd or even." [14] Imagination suggests that the stakes might be acorns, or chesnuts; and though reason may "query the fact," yet she cannot controvert it. It is evident that at either of the two simple games above named, a player, when it came to his turn to hold, might improve his chance of winning, by means of a little dexterous management, vulgarly called cheating, and thus, to a certain extent, emancipate himself from the laws of blind Fortune,—a personification of chance which a gambler, most assuredly, first elevated to the rank of a divinity.