Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersold nose. My dear old Joan’s head nods over her sermon(awakening though the doctrine may be). Ding, ding,ding: can that be ten o’clock? It is time to send theservants to bed, my dear—and to bed master and mistressgo too. But they have not wasted their time playingat cards. Oh, no! I belong to a Club where there iswhist of a night, and not a little amusing is it to hearBrown speak of Thompson’s play, and vice versa. Butthere is one man—Greatorex let us call him—who isthe acknowledged captain and primus of all the whistplayers.We all secretly admire him. I, for my part, watchhim in private life, hearken to what he says, note whathe orders for dinner, and have that feeling of awe forhim that I used to have as a boy for the cock of theschool. Not play at whist? “Quelle triste vieillesse vousvous preparez!” were the words of the great and goodBishop of Autun. I can’t. It is too late now. Too late! toolate! Ah! humiliating confession! That joy might havebeen clutched, but the life-stream has swept us by it—the swift life-stream rushing to the nearing sea. Toolate! too late! Twentystone my boy! when you read inthe papers “Valse a deux temps,” and all the fashionabledances taught to adults by “Miss Lightfoots,” don’tyou feel that you would like to go in and learn? Ah, it istoo late! You have passed the choreas, MasterTwentystone, and the young people are dancing withoutyou.I don’t believe much of what my Lord Byron the poetsays; but when he wrote, “So for a good old gentlemanlyvice, I think I shall put up with avarice,” I thinkhis lordship meant what he wrote, and if he practisedwhat he preached, shall not quarrel with him. As anoccupation in declining years, I declare I think savingis useful, amusing, and not unbecoming. It must be aperpetual amusement. It is a game that can be playedby day, by night, at home and abroad, and at which youmust win in the long run. I am tired and want a cab.The fare to my house, say, is two shillings. The cabmanwill naturally want half a crown. I pull out my book. Ishow him the distance is exactly three miles and fifteenhundred and ninety yards. I offer him my card—my winning card. As he retires with the two shillings,284