In Greece again, Archytas the mathematician constructed for his young acquaintances a hollow pigeon that could fly,—the original Montgolfier. In like manner, Dædalus, who made quicksilvered tumblers, also discovered the use of the wedge and the science of sailing; while Cnidus, the great astronomer, not only regulated the year and brought the celestial sphere from Egypt, but made all his little cousins glad by the excellence of the puppets he invented, and the fantasticness of their movements. The public puppet-plays were fashionable in Greece after the theatres had been suppressed by the Puritan Macedonian faction. The method of representation was, in many respects, like that still followed by the itinerant managers of wooden companies in our own days. The like permanence of fashion has clung to our childish games. The old _Muinda_ is the modern Blind-Man’s-Buff; _Chytrinda_ is Hot Cockles; _Trigodiphasis_ is Bob-Cherry; and Scriblerus, we remember, permitted his illustrious son to play at Puss-in-the-Corner, for the sufficient reason that it was the _Apodidascinda_ of the ancients. There is one classical game that has gone out of fashion, and I am not altogether surprised at it, seeing that it consisted in one of the players standing on a round ball, with his neck in a noose hung from above; in one hand he held a knife. It was the part of his opponents to kick the ball from under his feet. If, when this was done, he succeeded in cutting the rope, he won the game; if not, he lost it, and got hanged. To return to our figures, we may state that the Italian temples were celebrated for their moving gods. In the fane of the two Fortunes at Antium, the goddess moved both arms and head when that solemnity was required. So at Præneste, the figures of the youthful Jupiter and Juno, lying in the lap of Fortune, moved, and excited awe thereby. The marble Servius Tullius is said to have shaded his eyes with his cold hand whenever that remarkably strong-minded woman, his daughter and murderess, passed before him.