A LOVE STRATAGEM.

Westport Times, Volume III, Issue 523, 29 June 1869, Page 2

A LOVE STRATAGEM.

(From the Melbourne Herald.) Poor Hood used to tell a story of a man who regularly fell into the Serpentine, in order to get the hot brandy and water with which he was subsequently regaled by the officers of the Royal Humane Society, but a shepherd named Nailor has not only managed to secure a skinful of champagne by his simulated scratch, but very nearly got a blushing bride into the bargain. Our hero, employed upon the station of a Mr Wilson, had long sighed, and sighed in vain, for a maiden living at Doom She did not refuse to listen to his vows, but she did not quite see how he was to defray the expenses of matrimony. She did not doubt his love, but she had terrible misgivings about the state of his banking account. Baulked in his affaire Je cceiir, Nailor behaved in an eminently practical manner. He did not seek in Bacchus the bliss which Hymen denied. He did not quote poetry, nor roam about like the lovelorn wight in Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" over the dreary wastes and rocky uplands. Wiser in his generation, he rushed into his master's sit-ting-room and exclaimed that he had been bitten by a snake. All was consterration. On examining the man's hand a punctured wound was discovered on one of the fingers, a ligature was immediately applied above the wound, Shire's antidote was administered, and the patient supplied with copious draughts of chain-' pagne and beer. The man, however, seemed to feel that all these precautions were of no avail, and he besought his master to come to his bedside and write out his last will and testament. Mr Wilson did as was desired, and. Nailor then bequeathed legacies amounting to £3OOO to various friends, making the damsel of Doon the residuary legatee to a very snug sum of monies in bank stocks, exchequer bills, and three per cents. Meanwhile brandy and champagne was pretty regularly administered, and when the medical man, who had been sent for without Nailor's knowledge, arrived, he found his patient helplessly intoxicated. Unfortunately for the success of the scheme the doctor was not to be humbugged. The imposture was at once detected, the so-called snake-bite had been self-inflicted, and Nailor, instead of receiving any more spirituous compounds and medical comforts, was kicked out of the house, and allowed to come to his senses in the paddock. Next day he packed up his traps and left the station, a sadder and a wiser man, but whether his dulcinea still believes in his imaginary wealth we have been unable to learn. When he next repeats the trick he must take care that there is no medical man in the neighborhood.