A TRIP to the DERBY.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 361, 20 April 1889, Page 3

A TRIP to the DERBY.

The Reverend Septimus Wells when the I great adventure of his life happened to hiva was five-and-thirfcy, frank and simple as a boy, a pleasant-looking, sweet-tempered, | country clergyman, who for the last ten tears of his life had lived far away from the roar and riot of the modern Babylon in the quietest suburb of a quiet, provincial town. Septimus Wells, the youngest son of a poor parson in the West of England; -had been adopted at thd age of ten by an eccentric uncle, who offered to pay for the boy's schooling and bring him up as a gentleman on one condition, that he had entire control of his education. The bargain was struck, and Septimus lived wi h his uncle, who was almost a rcckuo, until the old gentleman died. Ab that time; Septimus was 21. He had received sLn excellent education, having had a resident tutor, and by his uncle's wish his studies had been arranged with a special vie\v of his becoming a minister. ~ When the uncle' died it was found that he had left Septimus a small sum to complete- his "cleiical training, "' and fifty pounds a year. ' The remainder of his fortune he had left'to the endowment of almshouses for aged and respectable tradesmen who had ti'ever married, one of the stipulations of the bequest being that under no circumstances whatever was a female to be admitted within 1 the buildings. 14 Uncle John," as lie was familiarly called by his relatives and friends, had developed an antipathy to the fair sex, it was supposed, because a lady to whom lie had been engaged for ten years, and who resided with her patents in Scotland, had at last run away trOm home with a grocer's assistant who taught' in the same Sundayschool, and married 'him. Possibly she was tired 'of waiting for Uncle John, who came to Scotland' for a few days about once in two years, " paid his respects " to the family and his ladylove, and went off again without hinting at a date for the long deferred wedding. Uncle John being extremely rich, the parents were loth to break the matter off, or to injure the prospects of it by precipitation, but the lady upset all calculation by going off at last with the grocer's assistant. *' " It was immediately after this abrupt termination to his prolonged love affair, that Uncle John gave his cook and house-maid-notice to quit, and commenced to lead the life of a recluse, having such domestic services as were required^-performed ky an old man and his son. These two men, Septimus, and the tutor engaged for him. formed the family at "The Grove," as Uncle John's secluded residence was called, and as the grounds were extensive, and "the family" rarely went beyond them, it*mas easily be imagined that while his uncle lived, Septimus saw very little "of the world, and arrived at man's estate with a very vague idea of its trials and temptations, its snares and its pitfalls. To many young; men "the life would have been unbearable, but Septimus was of so amiable a nature, so easily pleased, and so readily influenced by a stronger will, that he accepted it without a murmur, and being fond of study and a bookworm into the bargain, expressed no desire for the pleasures of society. ' When"his uncle died he was probably the most simple-minded young man to be found in the Three Kingdoms. He was no fool ; he was merely innocent, and without suspicion of his fellow creatures. A little of the innocence was rubbed off when be had to leave •• The Grove" and qualify himself for the position of a clergyman, but quite enough remained to make him an easy prey for those who wished to take advantage of him in wor dly matters ; and when at the age of twenty-live he was appointed curate of the Parish Church of Puddlecome-le-Mai'3h, a small place just on the confines of the civilisation of Dorsetshire^ an ordinary smart little London boy of ten could probably have boasted with truth that he had forgotten more of the wickedness of the world than the Reverend Septimus had at, present learned. Soon after the good-looking, awkward, innocent young man was appointed to his curacy, a wealthy widow, of mature charms, named 'Higgiribofcham, fell in love with him. -Mrs Higgihbotham had, it was rumoured, been the late Mr Higfinbotham's cook, but she had finished up by being his wife, and inheriting the house, grounds, carriages, horses, pictures, plate, etc., which he left behind him, and also a fair share of the fortune which he had accuinuated in a manufacturing business, from which he had retired to settle down in Dorsetshire. Mrs Higginbotham, from the pew in Puddlecombe church, surveyed the new curate, and saw in him an eligible successor to the late Josiah H , "poor Mr H.," as she invariably called him when a reference to him was necessary. She thought that she should like to be the clergyman's wife, for a clergyman's wife is a lady, and is received in the best society, and "can hold her own with the county families. Moreover, she saw ,in the Key. Septimus a No. 2 who could be easily managed and controlled, and would not want" to make J ducks and drakes of the cash which No. 1 had left behind. So Mrs Higginbotham came to Puddlecombe church, saw the Rev. Septimus, and conquered him. She commenced by inviting him to tea to meet some of her •' lady friends " ; then she invited him to tea, and there were no lady friends ; then she sent Mm little presents to his lodgings, which were two' rooms over the general shop kept by Mrs Muggles ;. theu she took Mrs Muggles, who was a widow, into her confidence, and the two widows proved too much for Septimus, for before he knew what he was doing, he blushed and shivered and trembled, and found that acasual remark about the weather made r by Mrs Higginbotham iti the presence of .Mrs 'Muggles had been accepted by the "former as an offer of marriage, and the latter had turned her head away with the remark that they musn't mind her, as she was young herself once ; and that thus encouraged, Mrs Higginbotham had flung herself (she weighed 16 atone) upon his manly bosom,' and had confessed with little hysterical sobs that she had loved him from the first day she ever saw himi and that she would make him a good, true little wife. The next day, before the Rev. Septimus was quite ,Bure, that he hadn't dreamed the whole scene, he found that it was all over tKe place that Tie bad proposed to Mrs Higginbotham, and had been accepted. Mrs Muggles had told all her customers, and her customers had told everybody else, arid so nothing remained for' Septimus but to submit to his fate, and let the widow name the happy day, which she did without any suggestion on his part to prompt Poor Septimus . never , attempted to struggle' with his fate., He concluded that in fcaking ; tea witfothe: widow he had,nrhis ignorance of conventionalities, made Joxe/tQ her, and having made love to her, he sup.

posed he was bound as a clergyman and a gentleman nob to shrink from the consequences. He felt that ifc - would be a very unmanly and improper thing to place the lady in a false -position by telling her and the rest of, his congregation that it was all a ; mistake, and so he allowed himself to be led to the altar, arid was really quite pained' whenheaccidentally overheard a very pretty young lady remark that " it was a shocking thing for a young man > like that -to marry an old woman for her money." When the blushing bride took Septimus for his honeymoon to London, the young curate was delighted and astonished at the novelty of the wonderful things he saw. His bride took him to the Crystal Palace, which he thought was a dream, and to Madame Tussaud's, where ho was quite overcome by the dreadful people he met in the chamber of horrors. And when he was taken bo the. Zoological Gardens and given a Ibag of buns and told he that might feed the animals, he felt that the climax of dis sipation had been reached, and was not astonished when, having been invited by the keeper to take a ride on the elephant, his bride^ frowned slightly and told him that sbe did not think such an amusement was quite -in keeping with his position as a clergy.noan and a grown up married man. Atth'e'big hotel to which his wife took him, Septimus lived in a world of wonders. The luxury and vasbness of the public rooms astonished him, and he wandered about them opoiAriouthed, staring at the decorations and the painted ceilings, and quite overcome by the grandeur that surrounded him. ■ „ v In their private apartment' the waiter in perpetual evening dress and /the whitest and glossiest of shirt- fronts filled him with admiration. He was a talkative waiter of doubtful nationality v^ho spoke five languages, and who gossiped familiarly of all the capitals of Europe. The Rev. Septimus had the greatest difficulty to refrain from calling him "sir," and felt quite humble and abashed in the presence of this travelled linguist, who had seen the Forum and Pompeii, had a cousin who kept a shop on the Rialto, and had lived himself as servant to a real Baron who had a real castle on the Rhine. Once during thehaneymoon the bride took her delighted bridegroom to a place of amusement. The drive through the lighted streets filled with people was a revelation to the Rev. Septimus, • and when they alighted at a grand building, brilliant with gas jets, and went into a beautiful hall and s^t on crim&on velvet seats, and heard a number of black gentlemen with woolly hair sing strange songs, and play strange instruments, and dance and make the most excruciatingly odd remarks to each other, the Curate of Puddlecomb,ogrew so excited and laughed so heartily that his head began to ache and one joke made him keep' on laughing long after it was said, and he might have gone on laughing at ib till the end of the performance, had not one or the black gentlemen suddenly begun to siiig about a dear little brother of hi? who died, and to request the other black gentleman to close the shutters in consequence. Then all the black gentlemen requested in chorus that the shutters might be closed because Willie was dead, and the Rev. Septimus was so carried away by the mournfulness of the catastrophe that he wept in .sympathy, and was quite shocked when, in spite of Willies premature decease and the grief of the company, a black gentleman in the corner suddenly jumped up and hit one of the mourners a fearful blow on the head with his tambourine, and asked him a ridiculous andmost inopportune question about his- sister and his sister's young man. When the entertainment was over and he was returning'with his bride in a fourwheel cab to the hotel, the Rev. Septimus sat absorbed in thought. He was thinking of how much the world owed to that good man, Mr Wilberforce, who had rescued these, poor blacks from slavery and enabled them to come over to a land of freedom and sing of their dead little brothers and their dead sweethearts who were waiting for them at heaven's gate, bo the kind Christian friends who assembled nightly to sympathise with their sorrows, and to share also in their homely if somewhat eccentrically expi'essed joys. That short honeymoon in London was an epoch in the life of the Rev. Septimus Wells. It opened ud a new world to him, and it gave him food for thought and cogitation for many a year after. He returned to Puddlccome and settled i down into a mild and gentle curate again, and he became a meek nnd obedient husband, but treasured within his heart a haunting idea that he had nob thoroughly explored the great Metropolis, and that if ever he had an opportunity of doing so, alone, he would discover much that was at present quite beyond his powers of conjecture. Five calm and peaceful years passed away. He obeyed his wife, and her word was his law, and as when he did exactly as she ordered him she was fairly goodtempered, his married life was, on the whole, a happy one. True, ?he was a little exacting and a little impatient, and sometimes wh»-n her " nerves " were bad she balked rather loudly to him, bub he supposed that was the usual thing in married life. One thing, howeyer, did worry him a little, and thab was bhe display of temper in which his wife indulged if he engaged in amiable conversabion wibh any of the younger ladies of his flock. He couldn't imagine why his wife should have such a 6trong objection, bo his discussing the poor and their spiritual needs wibh the young ladies, of his^ congregation who were moat anxious to visit them and to obtain their pastor's advice as to the best means of improving their minds and their social conduct. The first great shock which the Rev. Septimus had administered to his feelings was when one afternoon, having accompanied prebty Miss Turner, the daughter of the chemist, from the cottage of old Giles Slowburn, where he had found her reading the " Pilgrim's Progress" to the old man, he passed his wife without noticing her. He was holding his umbrella over Miss Turner to shield her from the sun, and he ; was quite unaware that the lady who ' passed was his wife, until he felt his arm j violently gripped and he heard a harsh i voice exclaim, " Well, I'm sure : I'm not ' big enough to be seen, I suppose." Miss Turner gave a little cry, and said, " Oh, Mrs Wells, how you frightened me." ' Then she gave a pleasant little nod, and ; said, " Don't trouble to come any further, 1 Mr Wells, I shall walk faster than Mrs \ Wells. Good afternoon." And 1 then— well, Septimus was afraid at first that his wife must be suffering from the * heatof theeun. Hehad heard thatsunstrokes ' affect the brain, and nobody in their senses ' could have said such ridiculous things as she did. She actually called Miss Turner a minx, and accused him of flirting with ! her. , Ib , was so absurd that Septimus laughed at it, bub his wife went on and grew so excited, that at last he began to feel nervous. "W as it possible that in his ignorance of , the world he really had,committed'an act of impropriety in holding his umbrella over Miss Turner. He felt that ib must be so, as his wife was so angry about ib, . and* he was very .sorry, and assured her that he would be more circumspect in the future. ; , „>,*,) i From that day a change took place in Mr

Wells' feelings towards-his \rife. He began fco be afraid of her. There was no doubt tba't'shewas getting jealous of him. Jealous ! Et was absurd, it was terrible ; but innocent as he was, he could not help seeing the facts of the case. It hurt him veryjnuchi and it preyed upon his mind. He lived now in constant dread of doing something innocently which might cause her to make another scene. In his | desire io avoid giving her displeasure, he became perfectly abject in his behaviour. But unfortunately, as he became more humble, she became more domineering, until at last the poor fellow trembled in her presence, if he saw a frown upon her brow. It was while affairs weie in this si ate that a matter in connection with Mrs Wells' property compelled her to go up to London and see her solicitors. It was the middle of May, and Septimus was very pleased at the idoa of the journey, as he would be able to attend some of the delightful meetings at Exeter Hal], of which he hud read so much'in the cletical journals, Mrs Wells decided at once to take her husband with her. She declaied, in rather ill-clioson ! words, that she wasn't going to leave him behind to " carry on. " Septimus swallowed the insult without a wry "face, for it was sugar-coated with the idea of a sojourn in that wonderful London. The rev. gentleman and his wife, or rather, the wife and her rev. gentleman, duly arrived in London, but Septimus had no opportunity of investigating the mysteries of the Metropolis. His wife took him every day by the 'bus to her solicitors, and left him on a chair in the clerk's office with her umbrella and her handbag while she ,was closeted with the solicitor Then she took him back again to her lodgings in Cecil-street, Strand, and after tea she went to sleep in her easy chair and told him not to leave her, as sho was out of sorts. So he spent his evenings turning over the leaves of the lodging-house books, which were six volumes of a magazine which ceased to exist in 1836, the second volume of tho transactions of the Hounsdilch Horticultural Society, and the Christmas Number of the Children's Magazine. The Rev. Septimus endeavoured to soothe his mind with this literature, but failed. Ho found his thoughts wandering away with tho crowded thoroughfares and the lighted streets. In imagination he entered some of the halls of dazzling light and heard the black gentlemen singing of ther dead little brothers and waiting for their sweet Bell Mahones at Heaven's Gate, and he was only recalled to earth by a deep snore from the partner of his earthly pilgrimage, whose head had dropped down lower than usual, and who looked in imminent danger of an apoplectic seizure. But at last an unforeseen circumstance brought the country curate's dream within reasonable distance of fulfilment. Mrs Wells one morning received a letter from her solicitor saying that she must go personally to a town in the north in connection witli the property that was in dispute. Sho bade Septimus prepare to accompany her, but he had a most important appointment with his bishop, and at last the good lady agreed to leave him behind in London, which she did with many admonitions as to his conduct. Mrs Wells loft town on Monday, and she expected to bo back on Thursday. On Tuesday afternoon Septimus saw his bishop, who was up for Exeter Hall, and then he was free — free, with London before him. On Tuesday evening he strolled about and admired the streets arid studied the hnmouis of the crowds in the great thoroughfares, and finished the evening at a cafe, where he played ehep& with a clerical friend. The friend told him that it .was the eve of the Derby — that to-morrow was the great carnival of which so much was written. "You ought to see it once, my boy," said the clerical friend, "I always think that a clergyman appeals so much more strongly to his congregation when they see that lie knows what he is talking about." Septimus thought so too, and when Wednesday morning came, he had made up his mind that he wouid go incognito to the great carnival, that he migh^ be tho better able to warn his young friends against its snares and pitfalls, It was not without trepidation that he made his preparations for this daring excursion. He removed his white lie, put on an unelerical lounge coat and a high hat, and made himself look as little like a clergyman as possible, and then he sallied forth. His motive was really excellent. He wished to see what this horse racing was like, as it was his duty so often to warn his congregation against it. He had made all necessary inquiries and soon found himself in a carriage on the Epsom line. Here an obliging gentleman performed some pretty tricks with three cards, and kept inviting Septimus to pick out the Jack, but though the corner was turned up and he feltquite sure hecould have picked itout, heof courpe declined, and ventured to sayhe disapproved of gambling altogether. Arrived on the Down", he was astonished at the tremendous concourse of people. He followed the crowd to the course and inquired of a policeman which was the best place to see everything from. JJe waa ' directed to the Grand Stand, paid his money and entei'ed. When the" numbers of the horses went up, and the bookmakers began to ehout, and the crowd began to rush forward 'to them with sovereigns and five pound notes held eagerly out, the Rev. Septimus began to understand this besetting national sin of betting. It grieved him ; it seemed to him that these people, in their eagerness fco win, were giving play to the worst passions of human nature. He mentally composed a little sermon on the subject for iuture delivery ; but when the race for the Derby came, and the broad mass of colour swept up the course, and the hats went off, and the huge crowd swayed to and fro in its excitement, ond deafening shouts went up as the gallant horses raced madly pas>t towards tho winning post, the country curate was carried away by the scene, and for a moment ho forgot its wickedness. Now, while the Derby was being run, there was a very nicely-dressed young gentleman standing by him. As the winner's number went up he shouted " Hooray !" and informed the Rev. Septimus that he had won a hundred pounds. A man came up, presently, and handed the young fellow a bundle of bank notes. "Ah," says the young fellow, pocketing them, "my luck's in. I've won on every race. My friend gets the money on for me in the ring. He gets the winner at the last moment, and he never makes" a mistake.'" The Rev. Septimus ventured to improve the occasion. He reminded the young gentleman that he might not always win. " Oh, bub my friend knows what he's about," was the reply. " Would you like to come into the paddock and see the horses ? You're a stranger here, I fancy. I can show you all the great owners." .The Rev. Septimus thought there could be no harm -in seeing the horses and the famous Earls and Dukes to whom they belonged, so he went into the paddock with the f polite young gentleman. There a man joined* them in a great hurry. *'I say," he said to the young gentleman, " I'm told the next race is a certainty for one. The owner's running twq ( j he's going to tell me which will win at the last moment. How much will you be on ?"

11 Pub me on fifty, Jack," said the young gentleman, handing some bank notes to hia friend. Then he turned to Septimus, and said "Now, if you want to win fifty or a hundred you should, go into this. It'll be a certainty. If you give my friend a tenner he'll put it on for you with my money. " Thank you," replied the curate. "You are very kind, and I quite appreciate your kindness, but I never, under any circumstances, gamble." The young gentleman and (e Jack" looked hard at the curate, who in his mufti looked more like a country farmer than a clergyman, and then f >hey strolled away totogether. After they had gone, the Rev. Septimus happened to look down, ajjd lying at his feet hesaw three or four bank notes, folded up into four lying on the ground. "Dear me," he said, lt bhat misguided young man has dropped some of his bank notes." Septimus picked them np and undid them, and saw that they were for five pounds each. " I must find him and return them to him," h& said to himself, so he put the notes in his waistcoat pocket and went back into the Grand Stand to look for their owner. Being thirsty, he went into the refreshment room and asked for a bottle of lemonade. He put down a sovereign. " Short of silver," said the barman. " Have you nothing less ?" Septimus had not. A gentleman standing by at once said, "1 can give you change for a sovereign, sir ?' " Thank you," said Septimus. The gentleman, put a chilling down for the barman to take for the lemonade, and then handed the curate seven halt-crowns and eighteen -pence. The Rev. Septimus having slaked his thirst, returned to the Stand to look for the owner of the bank notes. All of a sudden he found himself in the thick of a gesticulating mob. A gentleman had losb his gold watch. The police made a dash at a young fellow, \yho rushed past Septimus and disappeared in the crowd. "Here!" exclaimed a man, coming for ward and taking hold of Septimus. " I saw you, my friend, out you come." " What do you mean ?" exclaimed Septimus. " What have I dono ?" " We'll soon show you." said the detective, for that was what tho man was •' I saw your pal pass that watch to you. Here, Jack, hold him while I turn him over." To his horroi the tev. gentleman found himself firmly held by two policemen, while the detective, thrusting his hand into the sido pocket of the clergyman's lounge coat, produced a gold watch. The Rev. Septimus was horrified. While ho was being led off to the lock-up on the course, he could hardly find words to explain that; it was a terrible mistake. As soon as he could frame a sentence he declared that he was a clergyman, and quite innocent of such a dreadful action. • f Oh, yes, you're a clergyman, ycu look it. What's you're name? The Rev. Artful Dodyer, ain't it ? I'm surprieed at your reverence ! You've got another gent's gold watch on you. In this heie pocket are seven bad half-crowno. Wait a minute, let's feel in that waistcoat. Yes I thought so, and here we have four Bank of Engraving notep. Oh, you beauty, you'll be Bishop, o' London before you die if you go on like this." The poor curate of Puddlecome was ovei*whelmed. He could hardly believe his eye 3 as the watch, the bad money, and the sham bank note 1 were handed to the insnector. " I am the victim oF a terrible series of misfortunes," he exclaimed. , "I took the , change of a gentleman, and the notes I picked up in the paddock." " All right," said the inspector. "You can tell that to the magistrate. Ta-ke him away." The Rev, Septimus was horrified when ho learned that ho was to be locked up all night and taken before a magistrate the next day, as the case was not one to bo disposed of in the oft hand racecourse style. He declared that he was a clei'g'yman, but when asked for hi& name and address he hesitated to give it. He thought of the scandal. It might get into the papers. He felt that in coming to the Derby he had done a most unclerical act, and, oh ! terrible thought, what would his'wife say ? At last he made up his mind that he would say nothing to the police, but write a note and get it sent to a friend of his in London, who would come down and identify him, and explain to the authorities that he wai a respectable man. He got the Inspector to promise to send the note off. He wrote it and addressed it, made a mistake in the address, and was then locked up. The Inspector took down a directory and found that no such person lived at the address given. " All light, my beauty,*' he said to himself, " that's your game, is it?" and he dis- I missed the clerical impostor from his ! mind. ! That night tho Rev. Septimus spent in the lockup, a prey to the most terrible suspense. Why had he come to this wicked place ? He ought to have known better. What would his wife say if she anived home on the monow before he did and found he had bsen out all nierht ? She was to be back on Thursday. Tho idea so filled him with horror that he kicked at the cell j door and shouted for somebody to come. He | would give his real name and address ; he must be set at liberty. All that his kicks and shouts did was to bring a sergeant to the cell, who informed him that if he didn't hold his row he'd get something he wouldn't care for. Over that awful night and the dawn of the next day let us draw a .merciful veil. When, on the morrow, tho Rev. Septimus was taken before a magistrate, he wrote a few words on a piece of paper to explain hia dreadful situation. The magistrate looked at tho prisoner, and sent for the inspector, and they conversed together in an undertone. "Have you any proof that you are the person you say you are " asked the magistrate. The prisoner reflected. Suddenly he remembered that his cuffs and collars were marked with hir name in full. He took hia cuffs off and handed them to the magistrate. " Why didn't you show the inspector before?" said the magistrate. "I didn't think of it, your worship. I was too horrified at my awful position." The magistrate, who was a man of sense and discernment, began to see that the unhappy clergyman had been a victim of designing rascals. His story was quite plausible, and he was evidently a man of culture and education. His manners were certainly not those of the swell mob, and after a little hesitation the magistrate dis charged him. The Rev. Septimus breathed again. He had escaped without giving his real name to anyone but the magistrate, so it would not be in the papers. He was ' saved The instant he left the court he made for the railway station, caught a train, and arrived "at his' lodgings at about three in the afternoon, hoping and praying that his wife had not returned. He knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid servant, who grinned a terrible grin, and before' he could aek if his wife had come back, that lady appeared in the passage. Her bonnet was on, her face was red. She had but that moment returned, bub in

that moment she had* heard that her husbaad had been absent since the previous morning. As the infuriated lady rushed at himjto smother him with reproaches, and to deir and an instant explanation, the Rev. .Septimus caught sight of himself in the lookingrglass and nearly fainted. A more dissipated, out-all-night, woe-begone clergyman it was impossible to imagine. "So, you base man, so you wicked wretch !" howled his jwife, almost purple with passion. "These ate your going'son, are they ? The moment my back was turned too. I'll have a divorce. I'll inform your bishop. Oh, you wicked, deceitful, cruel, abandoned man !" Thereupon the goo:l lady cast herself heavily into the arm chair, and rocked herself to and fro in a fcborm of hysterical grief. "My dear," stammered Septimus. "I assume you'll allow me to explain — " " Explain ! It doesn't want any explanation. I can see it all Don'c toll me any lies— that'll only make i'j worse. ' " Really, my dear," exclaimed SepHmus, "you forget yourself. I am not in the habit of telling lies." There was a teirible ten minute?, but at last it all came out. Septimus confessed to the Derby, but he hoped he wa=< sufficiently punished. Alter a deal of violent language, and showers of tear 3, Mrs Septimus at last consented to accept his explanation pro lcm. t but the next day, taking her husband with her, she went to Epsom and found the police station and an official, and demanded to know if the man she had with her had been charged on the previous clay at that court, and if he had been locked up in the cells on the preceding evening. When the official recognised the Rev. Septimus and intormed the lady that his story was true, eho was compelled to bo satisfied, but the nexb morning she left London and took Septimus home, and she declares that she will never trust him out of her sight again. The rev. gentleman has hot yet delivered the pennon on gambling which he ment illy composed on the Grand Stand at Epsom. It is an exceedingly sore point with him. It is probablo that not until the time come 3 for him to be pub under the turf will he reveal his dreadful adventure upon it. Once or twice, when the May meetings are on, ■he has hinted that his wife might accompany him to tosvn for a couple of days, but the good lady doesn't see it. She merely fixes him with her eye, glares at hiiir, and tossing her head exclaim,*, "Oh yes, I daresay you'd like it, wouldn't- you'? I suppose you want to take another trip to the Dei by." Then Septimus sighs and buries his head in his Sunday sermon again, and thinks that perhaps after all he is safer at Puddlecome, for the mysteries of London are not to be explored with impunity.