LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2568, 30 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

OUR DERBY SWEEPSTAKES. (Concluded.) I must now drop the personal stylo of narrative for a time Hitherto my little story has consisted simply in a series of extracts from my own private journal ; but now I have to tell of a scone which only came to my ears after many months. Lieutenant Hawthcr. e, or Jack, as I cannot help culling him, had been very quiet since tha day of tho picnic, and given himself up to reverie. Now, as luck would have it, Mr Solomon Barker sauntered into the smoking-room after luncheon on the day of the sweepstakes, and found tho Lieutenant puffing moodily in solitary grandeur upon tho rettees. It would have seemed cowardly to retreat, so the student cat down in silence, and began turning over the pages of the ‘Graphic.’ Both tho rivals felt the situation to be an awarkard one. They had been lu the habit cf studiously avoiding each other’s society, and now they found themselves thrown together suddenly,^with no third person to act as a buffer. The silence began to be oppressive. The Lieutenant yawned and coughed with over acted nonchalance, while hnoest Sol felt very hot and uncomfortable, and continued to stare gloomily at the paper in his hand. The ticking of the cl-ok, and tho click of the billiard balls across the passage, seemed to grow unendurably loud and monotoaous. Sol glanced across once ; but catching his companion’s eye in an exactly similar 'action, the two young mon seemed simultaneously to take a deep »nd all absorbing interest in tho pattern of the oo nice.

‘ Why should I quarrel with him ?’ thought Sol to himself. ‘ After all. I want nothing but fair play. Probably I shall be snubbed ; but I may as well give him an opening.’ Sol’s cigar had gone out; the) opportunity was too good to be neglected, * Could you oblige me with a fusee. Lieutenant I ’ ho asked.

The Lieutenant was sorry—extremely sorry—but he was not in possession of a fusee.

This was a bod beginning. Chilly politeness was even more repulsing than absolute rudeness. But Mr Solomon Barker, like many other shy men, was audacity itself when tho ice had once .been broken. Ho would have no more bickerings or misunderstandings. Now was the time to come to some definite arrangement. He palled his armchair across the room, and planted himself in front of the astonished soldier.

‘ You’re in love with Mlaa Nelly Montague,’ ho remarked. Jack sprang off the settee with as much rapidity ar- If Farmer Brown’s bull were coming in through the window.

‘And if I am, sir,’ he said, twisting his tawny moustache, * what the devil is that to yon V ‘ Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sol. * Sit down again and talk the matter over like a reasonable Christian. lam in love with he; too.’ ‘ What the d uco is the fellow driving at ? thought Jack, as he resumed his seat, still simmering after his recent explosion. ‘ S > the long and ',ho s' ors of it is that w. ara both in love with her,’ continued So', enrphEsiiing his remarks with his bony ior„flnger. ‘ Whatthrn?’ said the Lieutenant, showing some symptomi of a icapse. ‘I tuppose that the beat man will win, and thit the yourg Isdy is quite able to choose fo heru-lf You don’t expect me to stand oat of the race just because you happen to wan the prize, do you ?’ ‘'that’s just it,’ cried Sol. ‘One cf as will have to stand out. You’ve hit the right Idea there. You ac>, Nelly—Miss Montague, I mean—is rather fonder of you than of me, but still fond enough of mo not to wish to grieve me by a positive refusal.’ ‘Honesty compels me to state,’ said Jaon, in a more conciliatory voice than he had made use of hitherto, ‘that .Nelly—Mias Montague, I mean—is rather fonder of you than me ; but still, as you say, fond enough of me not to prefer my rival openly in my presence. ’ * I don’t think you’re right,’ said the student. *ln fact, I know you are not, for she told me as much with her own lies. However, what you say makes it easier for us to come to an understanding. It Is quite evident that, as long as wo shew ourselves to be equally fond of her, neither of ns can lave the slightest hope of winning her.’ ‘ There’s some sense In that,’ said the Lieutenant reflectively ; ‘ but what do you propose T ‘ I propose that one of us stand out, to use yonr own expression. There is no alternative ’ ‘ Hut who is to stand out?’ asked Jack. ‘Ah, that is the question.’ ‘I c»a claim to having known her longest.* ‘ I can claim to having loved her first.’ Matters seemed to have come to a deadlock. Ntith-r of the young mo a was ia th e least inclined to abdicate in favor of his rival

‘Look here,’ said the student, ‘let ns decido the matter by lot ’ This soemtd fair, and was agreed to by both. A new difficulty arose, however. Both of them felt rentimental objections towards risking their angal upon such a paltry chance as the tarn of a coin or the length of a s raw. It was at this crisis that an inspiration came upon Lieutenant Hawthorne.

‘ I'll tel] you how we will decide It,’ he Slid. ‘ You and I are both entered for oar Darby sweepstakes. If your horse beats mine, I give up my chance; if mine beats yours, you give up Miss Montague for ever. Is it a bargain ?’ 1 D ne 1’ said the soldier, ‘Done!’ said Solom-.n And they shook hands upon the agree ment.

I had, as I have already observed, no knowledge of the conversation which had taken place between my suitors. I may mention incidentally that during the course of *it I was in the library, listening to Tennyson, read aloud in the deep musical voice of Mr Nicholas Cronin. I observed, however, in the evening that these two young men seemed remarkably excited about their horses, and that ne’ther of them was in the least inclined to make h mself agreeable to me, for which crime 1 am happy to say that they were both puni hed by drawing rank outsiders. Eurydiee, I think, was the name of Sol’s ; while Jack’s was Bicycle. Mr Cronin drew an Amer.can horse named Iroquoise, and all the others seemed fairly well pleased. I peeped into the smokingroom before going to bed, and was amused to see Jack consulting the sporting prophet of the ‘ Field,’ while Pol was deeply im meraed in the ‘Gazette.’ 'i his sudden mania for the Turf seemei all the more strange, since I knew that if my cousin could dia’ingulsh a horse from a cow, it was as much as any of his friends would give him credit for.

Ihe ten succeeding days were voted very slow by various members of the household. I cannot say that I found them so. Perhaps that was because I discovered something very unexpected and pleasing in the course of that period. It was a relief to bo free’of any fear of woundiug tha HUtcootibilitiei cf either of my former lovers. I could sty wh-it I chose and do what I liked now ; for they had deserted mu completely, and handed me over to the society of my brother Bob and Mr Nicholas Cronin. The new excitement of horse racing accrued t) have driven their former passion completely out of their minds. Never was a h'-nre au deluged with special tips and every vile print which could by any possibility have a word bearing upon the training of the her es or their antecedents. The very groom 3in the stable were tired of reo .unting how Bicycle wta descended from Velocipede, or explaining to the anxious medical student how Earydice was by Orpheus out of Hades. One of them discovered that her maternal grandmo her had corns in third for the Ebor Handicap ; but the curious way in which ho stack the hal-crown which he received into his left eye, while he wicked at the coachman wi'h his .light, throws some doubt upon the veracity of his statement. As he remarked in a beery whisper that evening, ‘ The bloke’ll never know the differ, and it s worth ’arf a dollar for him to think as it’s true.’

As the day drew nearer the excitement increased. Sir Cronin and I used to g'anco across at cash other andstni'e as Jack and Sol precipitated the .use Ives upon the papers at breakfast, and devoured the list of the betting. But matters culminated upon the evening immediately preceding the rape. The Lieutenant had run down to the station to secure the latest intelligence, and now he came rushing in, waving a crushed paper frantically over his head. * Eurydlce is scratched!’ he yelled, ‘Your horse is done for, Barker !’

‘ What! ’ roa-ed Sol, * Done for—utterly broken down in training—won't run at all!’ * Let me see,’ groaned my cousin, se’zing the paper ; and then, dropping it, ho rushed out of the room, and banged down the stairs, taking four at a time. We saw no more of him until late at night, when he slunk in, looking very disheveled, and crept quietly off to his room. Poor fellow, I should have condoled with him had it not been for his recent disloyal conduct towards myself. Jack seemed a changed man from that moment. He began at once to pay me marked attention, very much to tho annoyance of myself and of some one else in the room. He played and sang, and proposed round games, and, in fact, quite usurped the role usually played by Mr Nicholas Cronin. I remember that it struck me as remarkable that on the morning of tho derby day the Lieutenant should have enlirtly lost his interest in the race. He was in the greatest spirits at breakfast, but did not even open tha paper in front of him. It was Mr Croi-in who unfolded it at last and glanced over its columns, ‘What’s the news, Nick?’ asked my brother Bob. ‘ Nothing much, O yes, here’s something. Another railway accident. Collision apparently, Weßtinghouse brake gone wrong Two killed, seven hurt, and—by Jove ! listen to this :—“Among the victims was one of the competitors in the eqniue Olympiad of to-day. A sharp splinter had penetrated its side, and tha valuable at imal had to be sacrificed upon the shrine cf humanity. The name of the horse is Bicycle, ” Hullo, you’ve gone and spilt your coffeo all over tha cloth, Hawthorne! Ah, I forgot. Bicycle was your horse, wasn’t it? Your chance Is gone, 1 am afraid, I see thatIroquoia, who started low, has come to be first favorite now.’ Ominous words, reader, ns no doubt your nice discernment has taught you during, nt, the least, tho last three columns. Don’t call me a flirt and a ovquette until yon have weighed the facto. Consider my pique at the sudden desertion of my admirers ; tbisk of my delight at the confession from a man whom 1 had tried to conceal from myself even that I loved ; think of the opportunities wbioh he enjoyed during the time that Jack and Sol were systematically avoiding me, in accordance with their ridiculous agreement. Weigh all this, and then which among you will throw the first stone at the blushing littlo prize of tbo Derby Sweep 1

Here it la as It appeared at the end of three short months In the “Morning Post” : —“August 12th.—At Hatherley Church, Nicholas Cronin, Esq., eldest son of Nicholas Crhnin, Esq., of the Woodlands, Cropahiro, to Miss Eleanor Montague, daughter of the lata James Montague, Esq , J.P., of Hathorley House.” a Jack set off with the declared Intention of volunteering for a ballooning expedi ion to the North Pole, Po came back, lv>wever, in three days, auci said that ho had chacged his mind, but intended to walk in Stanley’s footsteps across Equatosial Afiica. Since the'i he has dropped one or two gloomy allusions to forlorn hopes and the unutterable joys of death ; but on the whole he is coming round very nicely, and has been heard to grumble of late on such occasions as the under-doing of the mutton and the over doing of the beef, whioh may be fairly set down ts a very healthy symptom, Sol took it more quietly, but I fesr ihe iron went deeper into hie soul. However, he pulled himself together like a dear brave fellow as he i«, and actually bad the hardihood to propose the bridesm ids, on which oooaaon ha became inextricably mixed up in a labyrinth of wdrds. Ho washed his hands of the mutinous sentence, however, and resumed Ms seat in the middle of it, overwhelmed with blushes and applause. I hear that he has confided his woes and his disappointments to Grace Maberley’s sister, and met with the sym athy which he ex pooled. Bob and Qracie ore to be married in a few months, so possibly there may bo another wedding about that time. A. Cowan Poylh M.B.