those who are not may be tempted to dip deeper, and find in the pages of the Spectator many new delights. We can offer no remarks of our own on the superstitions of “adventurers” fit to be placed by those we have extracted, and so will pass on to fresh incidents.
Lotteries abounded to such an extent about this time that we really have too much tempting material to choose from. There were the Greenwich Hospital Adventure, sanctioned by Act of Parliament; the Land Lottery, the promoter of which declared it was “found very difficult and troublesome for the adventurers for to search and find out what prizes they have come up in their number-tickets, from the badness of the print, the many errors in them, and the great quantity of prizes;” as well as the Twelvepenny, or Nonsuch, the Fortunatus, and the Deer Lotteries, all flourishing; to say nothing of the smaller swindles, which, despite Parliament, were connived at by the minor authorities. The Hamburgh Lottery caused in 1723 some trouble in the House of Commons. It was ostensibly a scheme for promoting trade between Great Britain and the Elbe territories, but was as gross an imposition as even a lottery system could produce, and was ultimately suppressed by special Act, John Viscount Barrington being expelled the House for complicity in the snare. He was not the only man of rank who dabbled with dirty water, many members of the Commons being more or less openly convicted of fraud in connection with lotteries. George Robinson, Esq., member for Marlowe, disappeared mysteriously in 1731, and it was found that with him went all the hopes of the Charitable Corporation Society, who discovered upon