The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-06-23
THE MAKEsHIFT COLT.
A Tale of the Derby.

KNOW DuJ L simply ODJeCL TO III as WASTE Vi
time, money and temper. Not that 1 won't
have sixpence on the run, with three-penny
points, or so, just to give an interest to ones
whist; and not that won't put crown on a
horse or take ticket in a social sweepstake.
But that's mere amusement; l never bet or
gamble in earnest.
Why don't l? Well, for very simple rea-
son. I once all but made a grand coup; L
once came within the cock of horses ear Of
pulling off very big thng-and didn't.
What do you say? Funk! No, sir, call it
common sense. had a chance such as a
man rarely gets more than once in life,
and fortune didn't favor me. I have rea-
soned it out since, and come to the conclu-
sion that the odds against gambler are heav-
Ter even than any one supposes 1 believe
that should never have such another chance
as that, and, upon the whole, it doesn't seem
to me to be worth while to gamble now. l
am satisfied that l am not a lucky hand in
that way.
However you shall hear the tale. Not
that it's much of a story either, but you say
you would like to hear the account of my
life. And this one bet of mine is really the
most important incident l think, in my
whole career For, had it gone otherwise.
But there! you shall Judge for yourself.
Seeing me now what l ana dourishing
tradesman in Auckland. New Zealand--you
would hardly imagine how l began life.
have taken root here and prospered; have
a wife and family. as you see and am a com
Portable man. Yet only a very few years
ago the case was widely different.
All, yes! Eighteen seventy-two; Gre
mornes year. It's a queer thing to look
back on those times. Only short ten years
ago, and yet am quite different man.
| was a gentleman in those days, if you
please, although as poor as rat; an artist 10
beot, that being one of the well-known lucra-
tive professions that needy gentlemen are SO
fond of adopting.
don't say that have much faith in my
own genius. Youthful and verdant as | was
then, l knew better than that But an
artists life seemed agreeable one to me,
and was sanguine enough to suppose that
could earn living at it, as a copyist and
producer Oh pot-boilers. This was about all
| looked forward to.
l dwelt in Camden Town. London. in a
studio high up at the top of a house that
stood In an anything but pretentious street.
/ was practically alone in the world. For,
though / had relations, l saw or knew but
little of them. Being poor, and an artist,
was naturally a Bohemian, and my associ-
ates were mostly drawn from that hetero-
geneous stratum of society.
| was poor, as 1 have said, but was not so
indignant as some of my friends and ac-
quaintances were. In their opinion, indeed,
] was far too well off to thoroughly compre-
bend the Injuries of poverty. for used to
receive an occasional ten-pound note from
one of my relatives, who, though he grum-
bled at my uselessness, vet always sent me
that sum whenever l was SO pushed as to
bring myself to apply to him.
Besides that, l could earn money. There
was picture dealer who used to give me
occasional job to make copy or the like.
And then there were certain pawnbrokers |
was aware of who would advance sums on
such pictures as l brought them. Oh yesl
that used to be regular system then, and
dare say it is now.
This is the way of it: You paint picture
and take it to the artistic "uncle" He lends
you on it at certain price, which he fixes
according to the size of the picture, and with
small relation to its subject or execution. If
you think proper of course you cGn redeem
the picture any time within a year, or you
can take possible purchaser to view it at
the shop. At the expiration of the year it
becomes ''uncles" property.
Lots of us used TO find that these pawn
brokers were our only patrons. They lent
us price ON our paintings that deducting
the cost of materials, would leave us what
might be reckoned shilling an hour or so
for our own work. And that work, as you
may suppose was far from being our best;
yet with our best we could do no better.
We pawned our pot-boilers without
thought of ever taking them out" again. In
due time they passed irrevocably into ''un-
cle'sr possession. What he did with them
then we neither knew nor cared.
Among the men | used to meet about in
the studios or consort with in the bar parlor
of the Brush and Palette of an evening were
many whose sole means of livelihood ap-
peared to be painting for the pawnbrokers
had another resource, as have mentioned
that picture-dealer out of whom | used to
make wages pretty frequently And then
there was that relative of mine who, though
he considered me to be an idle geod-for-noth-
ing, would not let me go wrong for want of a
n-pound note.
] was a sort of Croesus among these out-at-
elbows daubers then. They drank and smoked
and ate very frequently at my expense in
the free, happy style of Bohemia; and they
also often borrowed" shtllings and half
crowns with the careless bonhomie of their
guild. They made much of me, and tickled
my youthful vanity by pretending to take it
for granted that personal talent with the
brush was the real source of my comparative
affluence.
had no business to call myself poor, for
had, from the various sources, a total income
of over tive hundred a year. Then / had a
good capital in the shape of fair stock of
such things as young artists require an ex-
pensive wardrobe, some furniture and books
l was comfortable enough in my humble stu
dio, which was also my living room, with
small bedroom adjoining it, There was no
reason why should have felt poverty, but l
did.
Like most inexperienced youngsters, had
but the vaguest ideas of the value of money.
Moreover, / was extravagant, never stinting
my expenditure, and wasting lot more
money than 1 could afford, at the Brush and
Palette, and similar places. | was always in
of all fell nj sod
way of betting On races.
Now, goedy-goody people would say that
such a thing was impossible and incompre-
hensIble; but L swear to you that what led
me to take to betting and gambling with
more than ordinary zeal was the purest and
hoI soof poaotixra mon oOt,ld bova