things, stow the soldiers and civilians and animals in their nests of
drawers, burn the trees again--this time they are sweet-bay; and all the
joys and sorrows and rivalries and successes of Blue End and Red End
will pass, and follow Carthage and Nineveh, the empire of Aztec and
Roman, the arts of Etruria and the palaces of Crete, and the plannings
and contrivings of innumerable myriads of children, into the limbo of
games exhausted . . . it may be, leaving some profit, in thoughts
widened, in strengthened apprehensions; it may be, leaving nothing but a
memory that dies.

SECTION IV
FUNICULARS, MARBLE TOWERS, CASTLES AND WAR GAMES, BUT VERY LITTLE OF WAR
GAMES

I have now given two general types of floor game; but these are only
just two samples of delightful and imagination-stirring variations that
can be contrived out of the toys I have described. I will now glance
rather more shortly at some other very good uses of the floor, the
boards, the bricks, the soldiers, and the railway system--that pentagram
for exorcising the evil spirit of dulness from the lives of little boys
and girls. And first, there is a kind of lark we call Funiculars. There
are times when islands cease somehow to dazzle, and towns and cities are
too orderly and uneventful and cramped for us, and we want something--
something to whizz. Then we say: "Let us make a funicular. Let us make a
funicular more than we have ever done. Let us make one to reach up to
the table." We dispute whether it isn't a mountain railway we are after.
The bare name is refreshing; it takes us back to that unforgettable time
when we all went to Wengen, winding in and out and up and up the
mountain side--from slush, to such snow and sunlight as we had never
seen before. And we make a mountain railway. So far, we have never got