Ring." It is one of the simplest kinds of games, needing little or no
practice to make the player altogether perfect; and the manner of it
is this. A ring is formed, (in the present case, it was of large
circumference and thickly gemmed around with faces, mostly on the broad
grin,) into the centre of which steps an adventurous youth, and, looking
round the circle, selects whatever maiden may most delight his eye. He
presents his hand, (which she is bound to accept,) leads her into the
centre, salutes her on the lips, and retires, taking his stand in the
expectant circle. The girl, in her turn, throws a favorable regard on
some fortunate young man, offers her hand to lead him forth, makes him
happy with a maidenly kiss, and withdraws to hide her blushes, if any
there be, among the simpering faces in the ring; while the favored swain
loses no time in transferring her salute to the prettiest and plumpest
among the many mouths that are primming themselves in anticipation. And
thus the thing goes on, till all the festive throng are inwreathed and
intertwined into an endless and inextricable chain of kisses; though,
indeed, it smote me with compassion to reflect that some forlorn pair of
lips might be left out, and never know the triumph of a salute, after
throwing aside so many delicate reserves for the sake of winning it. If
the young men had any chivalry, there was a fair chance to display it by
kissing the homeliest damsel in the circle.

To be frank, however, at the first glance, and to my American eye, they
looked all homely alike, and the chivalry that I suggest is more than I
could have been capable of, at any period of my life. They seemed to be
country-lasses, of sturdy and wholesome aspect, with coarse-grained,
cabbage-rosy cheeks, and, I am willing to suppose, a stout texture of
moral principle, such as would bear a good deal of rough usage without
suffering much detriment. But how unlike the trim little damsels of my
native land! I desire above all things to be courteous; but, since
the plain truth must be told, the soil and climate of England produce
feminine beauty as rarely as they do delicate fruit, and though
admirable specimens of both are to be met with, they are the hot-house
ameliorations of refined society, and apt, moreover, to relapse into the
coarseness of the original stock. The men are man-like, but the women
are not beautiful, though the female Bull be well enough adapted to the
male. To return t