ey think will come out. Some
go by dreams exclusively, some play chance numbers they run across in
the streets, or signs or express wagons, while others make a study of
the game and play by fixed rules.

As we have already hinted, the business of policy-playing is
insignificant in comparison to what it used to be. Still we are assured
that New York City is still spending a good many thousand dollars a day
in "policy," two-thirds of which professedly, and really more, goes to
the managers and agents. If policy-players would stop awhile and think
seriously of their ways, they would cease playing; or if they would keep
an account of all the money spent on the game for a month or two, they
would discover that they had chosen a wrong road to fortune.

Pool gambling at the various race-courses in the suburbs of New York is
now under stern interdict of the law. This feature is greatly deplored
by those who are in the habit of patronizing this exciting pastime. Of
course the business is carried on _sub rasa_ in the city, in a sort of
sporadic form. No doubt, if we are to reason from analogy, the
pool-fever, emboldened by being "winked at" and tolerated, will, by and
by, assume its noisy, epidemic manifestations.

It is hardly necessary to dwell on the familiar auction pool, with its
close, stifling, dingy room; its crowd of solemn, stupid, wide-awake
gentlemen seated in chairs before a platform, backed with a blackboard,
on which are inscribed the names of the horses expected to start; and
its alert, chattering auctioneer, gay as a sparrow, and equally active,
fishing for bids, with strident voice and reassuring manner. A few
words, however, may be spared to touch lightly on what is designated the
"Mutuel" system, which was invented by M. Joseph Oller, an ingenious
Frenchman, about 1866. Those who had the good fortune to attend Paris in
1867 may remember that M. Oller's indicators were prominent race-course
features during the Great Exposition. They are now familiar to all
frequenters of our American race-courses, and their mode of operation
needs no explanation. The pool-seller's profit is safe as in all big
gambling schemes. He subtracts a commission of five per cent., and thus
makes a handsome profit when business is at all brisk.

The "Paris Mutuel" would appear to be a pretty square arrangement, but,
according to those acquainted with its true inwardness, it has been
"easily manipulated by those in control." There are t