LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 17, 19 June 1874, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TOM TREHERN’S TANDEM. Continued. He made a capital clergyman ; his racing experience had taught him how to ’ come at the finish,’ and consequently his sermons always led up to a point of interest towards the end ; unlike some divines I have endured, who after exhausting all their subject matter in the first ten minutes, instead of sending you home with something to chew on, dragged their slow length along, and used the second half of their discourse as a sponge wherewith to erase the impression made by the first. To be sure, the ruling passion would crop out at times ; as for instance, when he summed up the fiercely impetuous character of the son of Nimshi thus : ‘ln short, my friends, Jehu was a man who never could bring his horses in cool or when he chose that text about ‘ many running in a race,’ and, descanting on the difficulty of of attaining perfection, feared that we should find ‘some only second in the race for righteousness, many a bad third, and’ (with great emphasis) ‘ the rest—nowhere !’ One recorded act of his equals the enthusiasm of the patriarch of Alexandria who left the performance of mass to attend the accouchment of a favourite mare. One day, in the midst of his sermon, he suddenly exclaimed, ‘ Good heavens ! he’ll stake himself !’ and rushed out to the assistance of his black cob, whom he had observed through the window to have got into difficulties (and a ditch) by attempting to jump a hedge out of his paddock. To do him justice, he returned the moment the cob was extricated, and resuming with great decorum, * Thirdly (as I was about to say when I was called away),’ concluded his discourse with great fervour. It is said that he’ once desired the prayers of the congregation for a sick person dangerously ill ; which ‘ person ’ proved, on inquiry, to be the cob aforesaid, who at that time was suffering from inflammation of the lungs, and who was to him as the apple of his eye. But this Ido not believe. Quern Deus vult yerdere prius dement at : when the Dates would get a man into a mess they—leave him a legacy. As long as Tom’s income prevented his keeping anything but the little black trotter in his stable, his sporting tendencies never reached an unclerical excess. But when an unmarried relative died and left him a very considerable sum in railways, his thoughts would revert to his old favourite mode of charioteering, and, to parody Rope, ‘ Some demon whispered, ‘ Thomas’ drive a tandem !’ And he felt that if he could only once more double-thong his wheeler, and flank his lightsome leader round a corner, like Nelson at Trafalgar, he could die happy. Did ever man once admit an improper idea into his mind without its gradually growing till it culminated in mischief Hardened hermits though we think ourselves, though our meat be herbs, and our drink the crystal stream, let us be cautious how we admit the fair stranger who begs so plaintively for admittance. We are not all St Anthonies, and may not find missal and breviary quite so interesting'as when we perused them before our cave’s loneliness had become a solitude a deux. The Rev Thomas Trehernc, no doubt, had no more distinct idea of setting up a tandem than of riding for the Derby ; yet why was it that on his next visit to Bristol he purchased a light, breedy little mare, the very thing for a leader of a team, and just the size for the set of harness that he brought with him, a present on his leaving College ! It is very rarely, except in novels, that Fortune gives us desire and opportunity at the same time. Are you glad or sorry now, that young Hopeful came bursting through the bushes, that day of the picnic, when you were just about to lay your hand and heart at the feet of that silly but pretty Miss Monieless ! Was it not a fortunate thing that it came on to rain that night after the croquet party, when, under the elms, you were getting so enthusiastic in your admiration of the moon, and of that very clever, but slightly unprincipled Frenchwoman ? Let us each of us bless Fate for what seemed then its contrariety, and murmur devoutly, Me servavit Apollo ! But when Fate seems to say “Go on,” few men indeed are resolute enough to resist the temptation. And so, when the Rev. Thomas received a letter from a neighboring parish asking him to come and preach a charity sermon next Sunday, it seemed as if the thing he so longed for was just in his grasp. What easier than to send his faithful groom on before, with his leader, along the lonely road, to drive the cob till he overtook him, and so enjoy his favorite amusement without fear—also, that such a word should have crossed the mind of a reverend gentlemen !—of detection ? But I do not care to dwell on the mournful spectacle of a good man departing from the path of rectitude ; suffice it to say, that the Rev Thomas Treherne spent the whole of the afternoon flicking bees with a tandem whip in his kitchen garden ; and that at eight o’clock on the Saturday evening a solitary traveller, mulllcd to the chin, might have been seen to drive cautiously out of the vicarage gate without his groom. He could not help feeling anxious till the village was cleared ; but as the cob stepped out and left the house behind without his meeting any one, he felt his spirits rise, and dreamt not of the doom that was awaiting him. To explain the sequel I must diverge a little from the main road of my narrative. The cob which Tom was driving had formerly been the property of a sporting publican, who, after making a little fortune in business, had seen the folly of his ways and gone over to the Methodists. As the sporting publican had been accustomed to trot him for any wager he could get laid, he was pretty well known in the vicinity, and none of his parishioners ever attempted to pass the Rev Thomas on the road. But several times lately a stranger in a light great coat and white necktie, driving a bony dirty-white mare with a thin tail, had actually attempted to compete with Timothy and his driver in point of speed. Often had he done this, and as often had Timothy, responding to his master’s chirrup, left him behind with ease. SStill it was annoying to find a fellow that would not know when he was beaten, especially as he could see that the man was “ hard at work” on the mare each time, while Timothy never needed to do his very best to shake her off. Merrily that evening bowled along Timothy and his driver, and all the time behind them was approaching a Nemesis in the person of the man in the white coat,

The liev Tom was just running over in his mind the heads of to-morrow’s sermon, when ‘ He was ’ware of a dusty pair That came on his right hand.’ But this time he turned his head away, though from habit he ‘ collected ’ Timothy and pre pared to give the new comer the go-by. As usual the cob sprang forward, and after trotting neck and neck for a few moments, the marc fell behind, though Tom fancied the marc went more freely than before, and thought he did not hear the lash of the thong, or the sharp whistle with which he of the great coat was wont to stimulate his quadruped. Tom was always as careful as a mother of the cob, and at the next hill he got out and walked by Timothy’s side, stopping now and then to give him a loving pat. And now his rival, having cantered his mare up the first part of the hill, and trotted the rest, came up with him. ‘That’s a niccish cob of yours, Mr Bogginns,’ said he of the white coat. Tom instantly perceived that he had been mistaken for the sporting pnblican, and on the impulse of the moment determined to allow the other to remain in his mistake : ‘ Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive.’ ‘ Yes,’ he replied, ‘ he’s a fair goer—a very fair goer.’ ‘ I don’t think he’s quite the equal of my marc on favorable ground. You see she goes best on a slight descent, and that was all against the collar. Tom gave a glance of contempt at the dingy quadruped, and replied carelessly, 1 Don’t you think so V ‘ No, I don’t ’ and what’s more, I wouldn’t mind proving my words, if it was worth while.’ What do you mean ? “ I mean that I’ll trot you over a mile for a fiver, if you’ll let me choose the ground.’ Here was a temptation. Tom had twenty pounds in his pocket, which was to head the list of subscribers after his charity sermon. How pleasant to make it twenty-five ! and then to teach this vulgar bumptious fellow a lesson. Still his better angel whispered • Pause !’ ‘You don’t seem to sec it? Well, pr’aps you’re right. The cob looks to be getting stale, and no doubt he aint so good as he used to be,’said the other satrically. Talk of women and the spretae injuria J'ormac , what is that compared with the indignation, deep and dire, of the man who hears his favorite horse sneered at ? Tom’s blood boiled, but he said calmly enough, ■ ‘ I think he’s good enough for your mare, at any rate. However, we’ll soon see. What’s your ground, and when V ‘ From the foot of this hill to the next milestone, now,’ said the man, 1 Suppose, instead of saying five pounds, we make it twenty.’ Tom’s blood was up. All scruples vanished, and he replied, ‘ Done. And now the sooner we start the better.’ The cob stuck forward his cars and spread his notrils as he flew along over the smooth macadam, for the parson felt so confident that he did not take the trouble to nurse him at the commencement; the man whistled to the dusty mare, and the reverend gentleman found himself engaged in a trotting match for twenty pounds a side, with a man who might be a horse stealer for aught he knew, or, worse still, a future member of his own congregation. Timothy takes the lead gallantly, but he has a little too much flesh for this sort of thing, and presently the mare has decreased the distance between them by one half ; and though Tom is driving the cob to perfection she still keeps creeping up as they turn a slight corner, and the milestone comes in sight at the side of the road. Tom lays the whip lightly across Timothy’s shoulders; he responds gallantly; he is doing his very best, and Tom feels confident of success, when suddenly the man in the white coat pulls his hat firmly over his eyes, eases his hands at the same time, and the shabby-looking mare darts by poor Timothy like a ball from a catapult. When Tom reached the milestone his rival had pulled up, and the mare had scarcely turned a hair. He pulled out his pocketbook and paid the money without a word, and as he glanced his eye in unwilling admiration over the bony wretch that had defeated Timothy, he fancied he perceived points of difference between her and the animal he had been used to trot by so easily. The general appearance was the same, to be sure, but this one had a different manner about her, so to speak. ‘ Why, this isn’t the horse you’ve been driving for the last month V he says hotly. ‘ Never said it was, sir,’says the man, pleasantly. This is the celebrated Flying Fanny, as you may have heard of ; it’s an extraordinary liknencss, and turns out very convenient sometimes. And I’ll tell you what, Parson, the next time you trot with a horse you think you’ve beaten, make sure it’s the real Sir Roger. Goodnight. I’m afraid you won’t see me at church to-morrow,’ And whistling to his mare, he went off like a rocket. Tom saw that he had been fairly done, but he had learned before this to ‘ pay up and look pleasant;’ and, after the first moment of exasperation,his only fear was that the smart individual would boast of his success in the parish. But he knew that these gentry are not given to unnecessary confidences. So, turning Timothy round, he proceeded on his way to the place where his groom was waiting, wondering at his master’s delay. The leader was harnessed ; and, after a little restiveness and rearing, which was calmed down by Tom’s light hand and by the groom walking by her side patting and coaxing, Firefly, as she had been christened, went off famously, The moon shone out, and the light evening bree/.e played on his face and freshened up Timothy, who had considerably settled down since his spin with the mare. Tom was doing what he had not done for years ; and, as he let out his leader’s reins to let her do the work for Timothy, and caught his whip into a scientific double thong, he felt as if nothing could occur to counterbalance his present happiness, and thought no more of his lost twenty pounds than if he had been a millionaire or a sailor on shore. Happy the man who can cast care behind him in this manner ! —w'ho can cry ‘ Voijue la tjalcrvV though the sky threaten dirty weather, and something very like a white squall comes creeping up on the horizon. To hr, continual.