CHAPTER V.
Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey.
There’s a divinity doth shape our ends,
Rough hew them how we may.
The best laid schemes o’ mice and men,
Gang aft agee.
Were you, good reader, ever at a fair? If you were, you must have heard such cries as these —“This way, this way, put your hand in the pock, all prizes, no blanks.” “Come away my lucky lads, choose your colours while the ball rolls, there’s two to one on the black.” “Sport away, sport away, above seven or below seven, seven’s my chance.” “Be down in time, gentlemen, this is the place for making your fortunes, the real original gold diggings, six to one on the feather, the anchor has it, there’s none on the anchor the stakes are mine, etc.
Now, don’t start sweet reader, I am not going, to defend these scenes of petty gambling. I would simply beg to remark, that to the philosophic mind they afford subjects for philosophizing. For example, these games are all apparently games of chance, it appears to be mere luck if you win.
