From this illustration, which is taken from a little book entitled, “New Instructions for Playing in all its Varieties, the Game of Billiards,” &c., 1801, there seems to have been but little difference either in the play, or in the furniture of the room, between the past and the present times. They must have played a somewhat heavy, and dead game, though, for neither india-rubber cushions, nor slate tables, were known. The rules for the game are similar to our own. This little book gives a curious biography, which I am tempted, as it is short, to copy. [Illustration: BILLIARDS—1801.] “_Account of MR. ANDREWS, the celebrated Billiard Player._ “Mr. Andrews was born to an easy independent fortune, but, commencing life at a time that he was incapable of judging of the world, or of himself, was led away by a single passion; for he was not actuated by any other. He devoted himself entirely to the blind goddess, and worshipped her incessantly, under the form of two ivory balls. He was remarkably thin, not very tall, though above the middle size: his face was a perfect vacuum with respect to every possible idea except Billiards. So infatuated was he in pursuing this game, to attain the summit of excellence at it, that he sacrificed days, nights, weeks, months, and years to it. “At length he arrived at such a degree of perfection, as well in the theoretical, as in the practical part of the game, that there was no player in Europe could equal him, except one, who was the celebrated Abraham Carter, who kept the tables at the corner of the Piazzas, Russel Street, Covent Garden. Mr. Andrews was the most devoted adept of this game that ever nature produced; he seemed but to vegetate in a Billiard Room, and, indeed, he did little more in any other place. He was a perfect Billiard Valetudinarian, in the most rigid significance of the expression. He ate, drank, slept, walked, nay, talked but to promote the system of the balls. His regimen was tea, and toast and butter, for breakfast, for dinner, and for supper. “It might reasonably be imagined, that so regular a professor would obtain all the advantages that could result from the science. He won considerable sums, but knew not the value of money; and when playing for only five or ten pounds, he took no pains, but seemed perfectly indifferent about winning or losing. There was a latent finesse in this, but it did not operate to his advantage: he was laying by for bets, but as they were seldom offered, the strength of his play being very well known, he often lost by repeated small sums, very considerable ones.