The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1883-07-07

OIL bno liiSnuy crowd, sort OF falter or
perplexity-for few know what horse Black
and Purple rides. hear man near me
hoarsely exclaim:
/ "What the dickens horse is that?~
know, and leap up in a mad thrill of
! delght. AS the strlving.racers flash before
us see two Tar in front of all the rest. Red
and elbow is doing all he knows, but on
his flank, drawing up to him closer and
closer, nearer and nearer, forging ahead
| till they ride neck and neck, comes nv
noble Black and Purple. He is coming up!
He is passing Red and Yellow! He is gain
ing loot IN every yard! He wins! he
wins! Black and Purple for everl
The race is over. The fierce turmoil of
shouting thousands boils up around us. The
two horses have passed the post so close
together that no one knows which has won,
We walt some moments in agonized sus-
pense Till the numbers go upon the board.
| At last they appear: l, Cremorne; ., Make
shift Colt; 3, | know not what, for l sink
almost fainting on the ground.
Hall neck has done it. Had our horse
put on the squirt moment sooner he would
have won. Had the course been ten wards
longer the decision would have been re-
| versed. o, if-if-if- And | have lost !!
O'Hooligan is beside me. He stands with
his hands thrust down deep into his pock-
cts, his face is pale and his lips set to-
gether; he gazes vacantly into the dist
ance.
"Shot in the back again." he murmurs,
hoarsely, with an oath. "Come on, me
boyl Rouse yerself! Come am let's liq-
uor, anywayw
crawl dejectedly after him to the tent,
for my mouth is as dry as limeburner's
wig.
IL, that event was the turning point in
fe. That bad luck has been the max
irc # me. | will tell YOU how in as few
sr5s as possible.
woke the next morning in the most
a1serly depressed and dispirited condition.
| had a racking headache, of course, for
| equally of course, | had got most con-
sumedly drunk after the race Perhaps
that YVES natural under the circumstances.
Mind and body were in torture. | felt
gloomy enough to do something dreadful.
| was utterly ruined; [ had no prospects;
everything l had possessed was mine
no longer; [ had not even the means
left to earn my subsistence with. In
a day or two more my very bed would be
| seized, and l should be turned into the
street.
My mind was little confused, you see.
l had totally forgotten one thing, and it
was lucky had, perhaps. Not until late
in the day did remember that had backed
the Makeshift Colt for place. SO over
whelming was my misery at losing the
3000t. had reckoned on, and losing it by
such narrow squeak, that | had clean for
gotten the saving bet.
| had turned into the Brush and Palette
modify to seek what solace | might find
there. Suddenly some sOvereigns were
thrust into my hand and [ was told the
money was the second prize in the sweep
stakes, wherein | had drawn ''the field" as
you may remember.
All, it was a fine revulsion of feeling |
then experienced. | cheered up wonder
fully when [ recollected how Ireally stood.
Things were by no means so black as had
thought. As matter of fact, had actu-
ally won over a hundred pounds.
That drove me back from the drink
just in time. More, it led Inc to reflect.
| conceived disgust at gambling and bet
ting from that time, and | resolved never to
take TO the same courses again.
| believe it was the luckiest thing in the
world that the horse [ backed was beaten
by Cremorne. fit had won, and l had
landed that big prize, l should have been
| confirmed gambler all my days. OF that |
am certain. | should have come to event
ual smash, when there was no possibility
of recovering from it. And, likely as not,
lshould have dragged my poor Lucy into
| the mire with me.
That very day after the Derby, as I was
reading the accounts in the paper of how
| the great race had so nearly been carried
! off by the rankest of rank outsiders, nv
| eyes lit upon an advertisement. 1t was a
call for emigrants to go out to New Yea
Nand.
That decided me. l had a hundred
pounds in hand, and with it [ resolved to
emigrate. l resolved to throw gentility to
the winds, to quit the dangerous Bohemia
of London, to give up my foolish dreams
| of an artistic profession, and to try what
manful industry might do for me at the
Antipodes. Iresolved to conquer my own
| failings, to concentrate my energies, and to
seek fortune in a new land.
Within month | had hidden a hopeful
an revOir to Lucy, had been the recipient
of farewell supper at the Brush and
Palette, and was an "assisted emigrant" in
the steerage of the good ship Rangitiki,
| bound for Auckland.
OF course | had hardish times at first.
Who hasn't? Chopping firewood, mending
and making roads, carrying bod, driving
cattle-these were some of my occupations;
and little enough could | earn at them. But
by and by my old profession stood me in
good service.
One day l accidentally overheard an
hotel-keeper stating his wish to have a
signboard on his house. He lamented his
inability to find man who could paint it
properly, and said he would willingly
stand five pounds for what he wanted. /
offered to do the job, if materials were
found me, and, after some demur, | was al
| lowed to try my hand speculatively.
Before had finished the sign the satisfied
'boss" commissioned me to decorate his
saloon. Orders came in upon me thick and
fast for similar work, and | soon found my
self earning six or eight pounds every
week.
Well, to make long story short, within
a few months [ was foreman of house
fitting firm in the city, and, before year
was gone, l was partner i'll the concern
and doing a thriving business. In three
years from the time of my leaving En-
gland l was able to send money to Lucy.
The dear girl came out at once, and is now
my wife.
have prospered amazingly. At home l
could never have been more than picture
lealer's hack. Here hold no inconsider-
lble position in the city, my business as a
louse-decorator having gone ahead, and
absorbed into it various kindred branches
of trade. 3...t .H-
PerhapsI cannot call myself a gentleman
any longer. On the other hand, am not a
broken down Bohemian. Look atmy family
sir, at my prosperity. Look at this shop of
mine in Queen Street, and say, have | not
cause to be thankful that the Makeshift Colt
did not win the Derby?
That's my story.-LOndOn Society
A Good Dog and Horse Story.