Chapter I.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 233, 17 December 1887, Page 3

Chapter I.

/ :&) T was Cup day— Cup day 'in > . 'i&i Melbourne twenty years ' 'ago. 1 Those unfarniliaViwtth the ' jy6nr ' iH drous sight annually presented * sHf Flemington on those pcJ \ lH casions can form but little notion mil °^ tn £ great carnival of tlie sister 1 iMm c °l onv ' But not °^ *^c vast mu^ tude \° c f° un d t'nat day v^ 'I I at the glorious old course course Dy the Saltwater River — not of the gay dresses there or the grand fiejds of ■ horses — has this little tale much to tell. For the glories of Cup day were nip,h over. Back toward the temporarily deserted city, by rail or road, by every species of locomotion known to Melbournites, wended the roysterers. And long streams of pedestrians, too, were theie, scorning, either from choice or necessity, other method of progression than that afforded to them by their own sturdy limbs. Of these latter was the writer. I was in no enviable mood. From this the reader may probably infer that I had been a loser ; and, if he does so Infer, the reader will be quite right. For, had I not gone forth that morning joyous in the deep-rooted conviction that the sums of money— large ones for me — that which weeks and weeks before, upon the advice of 'the best judges in Melbourne,' I had invested upon Exile, would return unto me tenfold ? And had not — but, ah ! why recall the story ? Shall I ever forget those three or four minutes of suspense, prolonged in their bitter agony to the very winning post, as, inch by inch in the last fifty yards, the 3-year-old 'pony' from Sydney, with the rider in yellow and black, struggled up, ond just beat the poor old Melbourne cocktail by a head ? But to my story. The memorable struggle between The Barb and Exile was over ; and it was nearly sunset ns, utterly heartsick and weary with my bad luck, I emerged from the fields, and jumping over a fence into the Fiemington-road, faced townward, Phew ! what a dust there was ! Yondei a splendid four-in-hand, tooled by the 'Prince of starters,' spanked along gaily j the bupgy of a leading book maker, with his trotter in the shafts flashing by a minute afterward. Han som cabs, jaunting cars, ' for and afters ; Bourke-street '-busses, &c, mixed up curiously with equipages of a less pre tentious order ; to wit, furniture vans, greengrocers' and butchers' carts, al crammed with their living fre'ghts. Just then a women's scream rose high above the din of traffic. I glancec backward. Bolting at a terrible pace down the hill, past Hugh Glass's man sion, toward me came a splendid black mare, dragging a pretty phaeton, ir which sat a middle-aged gentlemar and two ladies, all looking fearfull) frightened. The reins had fallen froir the nerveless hands of the driver, anc were trailing under the animal's feet and, with the blocked up state of tht roads ahead, a smash seemed inevit able. I don't exactly know how ] managed it. I never set up for a hero, and always prefer keeping clear o danger of all kinds if possible. Pro bably the thing was forced on me - r anc what I did was partly to save rr.ysel: from being run over. Anyhow, the plain truth is that, as the frightenec mare reached me, I managed by ? desperate effort to catch her with both hands by the head, by which, of course, I mean the reins close up to the bit And then, for a few seconds afterward, things seemed very mixed indeed. 1 I felt myself flung backward, then dragged along the road, now up, now down, clinging the while desperately to the mare, though the effort seemed to be dislocating my very shoulders, Twice s,he had struck me with' her fore ieet when rearing and plunging, in her 1 efforts to free herself ; and the blood, streaming from a cut in my forehead, -[ and mingling with the dust of , the road, / at once nearly 'choked me. But other -'-'help was at hand. t A sturdy costery monger leaped x frbm his carf 'Stick Ito her, lad !' he shouted ; and. in a few . seconds more we had, between us i steadied the frantic animal. ' The occupants of the phaeton, pale with terror, now dismounted ; the mare was taken out of the shaft, and the vehicle was drawn to the side of the road, the owner expressing himself very decl.dedly against driving the spirited i animal any farther. * I hope you are not much hurt, sir ? I was sitting, feeling rather dazed, on the bank at the roadside, wiping ; the blood "ancf TfifsTTfoWTify countenance?, and glanced.-up aj the speaker. Heavens',' what* a cWrjiing fade ? Surely she , was never , on: the^lawrr that: day, or I must hav&nojtioediterj ,all my worries about.bets notwithstanding. I never . r . Was any gobdat describing women. -I ~.am certain it would' be of no use to try tiow.v L only know that the most glojc;;ious j pair of sparklirig dark eye? T ever t/sawinrny life, before or since, briiflful 1 bf gentle .syiapklhy,- arid surfnounting i features entirely- worthy, of them, were 1 -gazing dawn at me.^ I made some conY I^Wed ,repfy conveying assurance, of bec j ing uninjured ; ;a%djust at a caSman:whom Lknewp^^s\iitig, etwpty, dri his -return .'from tdyvn { r ;td the 'course, 'l hailecl 'arid 'stopped fi Ijj^ ;o -Ig ; a %}v 1( mi m utes, l;ha# awaked r, v iwth ySijsi .< wortbyyi to', temporarily te£-, / change^horse^ with 'tber^mMdle-aged ?I "j^tfe^/Wkbbj;/^bd^» |I 6ri;'^[pc»f ienced whip, putting thd {>/ fflack"ihW

i nessing his own-steady cob to ttafc IflmJlyW* V— ;^^ j ]:V ! .« Here^rtr man; 'fcakfe'ftms for ' yduj; bravery:' 1 •'- a J xi ". I 1I 1 - 1 ! It 'was the gentlemah^who spftke ; t}iis» ! 'time- Siiiting tHe ac f tion't6"the" w<p3 W came .'briskly, toward ./me', ' Svithj ,a sovereign in J*is,.opeQ spalm,;becko,inng 5 palm,;becko,inng at the same time to the^ costermong^r to approach and -t2ke a, similar gift," ! which the' letter very '&$. | I ( felt myself colouring p4mFully,.and te,ars of mortification rising. . ! ■ < Oh, uncle, can ? t you see that he^s a j j gentleman?' a,nd t^e" oWner of- the gloiidus eyes, pulled the donor's arm back and entreated me to [ forgive fhe mistake/ ■ ~" ; ' • i And, after all, there was litlle to wonder at in his error ; for what with one thing and another, dust, blood, torn clothes and battered hat, I was just then about as seedy a looking vagabond as any en that crowded road. The uncle apologised, handed me his card, asking for mine in return (which I gave him) and begged me to call at his residence, an invitation I promptly agreed to accept. Then, having seen his party safely ensconed in their vehicle, and fairly started homeward (an eloquent look of gratitude accompanying the bow of farewell from the girl with the dark eyes). I took the v?cant sent in the hansom behind the now quiet black mare, and was soon set down at The Albion ;' Oliver, the cabman, proceeding on to Toorak, to the home of the mare's owner, to eftect a re-exchange of steeds.