REAPING A WILD OAT.

Patea Mail, Volume IX, Issue 1126, 17 December 1883, Page 4

REAPING A WILD OAT.

LITERATURE.

Mr Cornelius Crambone, the only male survivor of the Cheshire Crambones, came from Cambridge to London at the age of twenty-two, with a B. A. degree which was worthless to him, a taste for racehorse flesh which was worse than worthless to him, and a fortune of . £15,000, which enabled him to travel by express train to Utter Smash, Whilst en route to ruin, Mr Crambone was one of the best-dressed men of his hour, alp bis pursuits were what tbe golden-youth of our exquisite limes call good form, and he was a welcome guest at gilded homes. To the dogs is a quick journey. Behold him on his twentyeighth birthday as he stands before the fire-place in the Charing Cross Station waiting room. He is no longer one of best dressed men in town. His trousers arc baggy at the knees and frayed at the heels; there is a patch on one of bis boots ; bis • shirt-front is .evidently dc- , Inched. It is manifest that his napless hat has been done up for sixpence whilst ' lie wailed. The seams of his coat are conspicuous; his left hand is covered ’- with a- glove that has braved much weather. On a right-hand finger is '' displayed an enormous ring made of an nupawnable metal ; he eschews an over- . coat because (be says), • be will not . pamper his, constitution; lie drinks beer because it is the nectar of bis native ‘- land ; he disdains cigars because the pipe is so nuich. nicer. He has been - seen in The pit. of a theatre, because be •’ . holds that lb be The best part of tbe bouse for the genuine playgoer; he h(tß not renewed his subscription to the-White Kid Glove Clnb, because • he does not like the set or the cooking; he has no money, no credit, and no prospect; ho. has ceased to call on his one-time friends, because nobody is • ■ now at home To 'him ; he is as unknown to those who formerly claimed the honor of his acquaintance as if he had molted away with his money, and a strange • man had . been poured into his shabby . clothes.- .Cheap boots bad caused a corn on Mr Crambone’s little toe, and bis corn had so tortnred him that he wont into the waiting-room for a rest, that being the only available place df repose . for the penniless man. Presently he left the free retreat, and as he reached the outside of the station a sparkling brougham drove up, and a gentleman who emerged therefrom exclaimed—• ■ : ‘.What! Impossible! Is it a'nigbtrnare vision, or do I behold Mr Cornelius Crambone ?’ Mr Crambone blnslietl, for lie stood convicted of the social crime of poverty, under very painful circumstances. The astonished owner of the sparkling brougham is Mr Augustus Qnambnsh, the great tailor and eminent and illustrious maker of num of fashion. * Sir,’ ho said, 4 I am pained ; I am shocked. Do I really look upon Mr ' Cornelius Crambone ?’ 4 Yon do, Quambnsb, and I am awfully sorry that I do not see my way even to case rny little debt.’ : 4 Mr Crambone, yon are unjust to my feelings as a gentleman ami an artist. I was not thinking of the £330 ard interest that yon owe me. I know you were financially aground, but I bad no conception of such an unspeakable crash ; I once saw a Qnambnsh turn out walk-ing-with a creature in advertised readymade garments, and deep was my distress ; hut to see yon, a favourite and trusted block, two seasons behind the cut, and threadbare, is a severer blow.’ 4 A block, Qnambnsh ?’ 4 Yes, sir ; a block with a forty-two inch chest, legs of aristocratic length, and a back fall that dors credit to my heart. Stuffing is a poor substitute for the perfect block moulded by Nature ; but with such a figure, why do you cry down ? Try something, Mr Crambone.’ 4 What shall I try ? The hansom perch, or the omnibus rnoukey-board, or the tram stage, or shall I become n crawling sandwich ?’ 4 Mr Crambone, I will give you a chance of restoration to social life. I will dress yon and allow yon a pound a day pocket money for six months. You shall accept for £2OOO, to include the present debt. If yon make a coup, I shall get a fair return for a desperate venture. If you fail, my good money will be bow-wowed.’ 4 And what am I to try ?’ 4 Perhaps iimited finance, which is genteel and profitable. But the best game for a fine bachelor block, dressed by Augustus Qnambnsh, is matrimony. .Don’t lose a day, for it is only six months that I am to be your banker.’ WTthin a week Mr Cornelius Crambone appeared in exquisite attire, and the illustrious maker of men of fashion coined and circulated the rumour that his favourite and trusted block had received a very large legacy, and that only a feeble life intervened be- 1 tween him and a handsome for- i tune. Forthwith Mr Crambone I was freshly and affectionately remembered. He was invited to parties. Everybody on whom he called was at home to him. He was re-elected a member of the White Kid Glove Clnb. ! But tbe six months of support from, Mr f ■ Quambush was nearly over, and Mr Crambone had not been able to get into the genteel profession of limited finance, or to marry a richly freighted pocket, and the luck that resulted from the agony of the tender corn, by causing the meeting with Qnambnsh, would have been only a gleam of sunshine if an ancient baker had not invented the hot Poll for breakfast. Miss Amy Yoxall is a pretty and pleasing blonde, with a fortune of £3OOO a year, and is known in society as the golden lily. Though nearly a quarter of a century old Miss Yoxall has not even been engaged to be married. She lias no other relation than an uncle, Mr Harold Y r oxall, and is therefore a very independent young lady, quite a lady Selkirk, with none her will to dispute, and perhaps she enjoyed the fun of refusing offers, thinking that she had still ample time to revel in the delights of epinsterhood without the peril of being

regarded ns an old maid, only marriageable on account of her money. A sudden calamity awakened her from the dream. Miss Yoxall was at breakfast, and applying her pearly teethto the upper crust of a hot roll. A snap ! A cry of horror ! One of her front teeth was broken ! The Yoxalls arc a brave race. Amy did not swoon. She denounced, in choice Bclgravian, tbe abnormally bard crust and the baker thereof, ordered her carriage, dressed quickly, and drove to the dentist's. Mr Albumen Process, surgeon-dentist extraordinary to several courts, looked grave. The rest of the tooth must be extracted and an artificial one substituted. 4 A false tooth,’ exclaimed Miss Yox.ill. 1 Pardon mo, madam, not a “ false ” but an artificial tooth,’ Mr Albumen Process also fold bis fair patient her teeth wore so beautifully transparent that without the greatest possible care and constant professional aid they would not last long. Miss Yoxall returned homo with the pieces of her broken and extracted tooth in her pocket, and in the solitude of her chamber reflected upon the lesson of the dire event. ‘lt is,’ she muttered, 4 a crack of doom.’ ( To be continued.)