The state journal., 1885-01-17
THE BEST MAN.

~ q
,argas bachelor Somewhat Old fashioned,
Ne called yellow 'yallar, and always
dropped his final gs when talking Of
raadin' OF dinin' out. lie wore a blue
tnottcl cravat, a buff waistcOat, a gera-
mum in his buttonhole, and gold
mounted eyeglas+, which he held to, but
never stuck in, lis left eye. At the time
Of which write he was fifty three and
.half equity, crackly as to voice, and
rather affected in manner. He had
xs.ued considerably about the time Of the
Crimean War, and now he played piquct,
and belonged to all the clubs that are
called after the names Of the defunct COZ
fee-house keepers.
BE lived in fiat A, Regency Mansions.
Victoria Street; and his rooms, decorated
with old prints, we've filled with baths
and pipes, and tubes for carrying up
roast chickens inside the walls, and
things for talking to people ever so far
away, and other evidences OF confirmed
lExury; and he was on good terms with
his brother. the Duke of Dorset
Secondly the young Lord Arthur Lam
ton-generally called art" for short, by
his own set. He wore high ColOrs,
black satin scarf with a pearl pin in it,
a white vast coat, gardenia in his but
tonhole, and an unmounted eyeglass,
which he never held TO, but always, even
when asleep, it is said, stuck in his right
eye. He was twenty six, muscular,
good looking, and winning in all his ways
except at whist. He played polo, and
shot pigeons, and belonged to the New
Club aud various Juniors. He lived
in flat B Regency Mansions; and he, too,
had baths, and tubes, and many modern
photographs, and cavern full Of soda
water, and other things, and he was by
no means on good terms with his father.
the Duke OF Dorset. From all which
things can be gathered his differentiation,
as scientists say, from his uncle, who
lived in the fiat low him.
Art LantOn had been sCrapish, not to
say scampish, and rumOr had it that he
had offended the ducal head of the fam
lily by giving mixed and somewhat dra-
matte character at Dorset House, into
the middle of which the Duke had most
unjustifably popped. However his
chief ground of offeuso was that he had
recently been affectiOnately a6iched and
indeed openly devoted, to Miss Harry
Horton. Her name was Harriet; but
everybody had called her Harry ever
since she was schoolgirl
To describe with anything like fidelity
dear Harry Horton would take up several
consecutive numbers of this journal,
which might possibly irritate the solvers
of the acrOStics and the people who read
the City article. Suffice it that she was
graceful and Scelte; that she had tossed
brown hair, violet eyes-big, deep-lashed,
rather mournful, soul-destroy ing, real
violet eyes; that from mouth that was
rather mUtiEe she was wont to laugh, as
it were, with tiny peal of silver bells;
that she had hosts Of adOrerS; that she
rode with perfect hands and danced with
perfect feet; that she was brave, girlish
girl; and that she was the most downright,
sudaciOus, and deliberate tlirt in London.
This tendency Of EIarry's arose from
buoyant animal spirits quick sense of
humOr, and perfectly innocent desire to
please people. This however, is sub
tie matter of psychological analysis and
metaphysical chemistry, and belongs in
no way to this veraCiOuS chronicle.
"Art" and "IIarry" certainly made y
pretty pair wherever they went. Ascot,
Nottingham, and the Row knew them
well; and there was q firm and close ALI
snce between them, spite Of the many
keen encounters of their wits, which,
regret to say, frequently led to rude
things being sid, to pique and petulance
on one side, and to growlingS and going
away after grouse on the other. For all
that, they never sent back photographs,
or did anything so absurd as to ask for
old letters to be destroyed, or to bury
the past, as sentimental folk and poet
people do in like cases. They simply
Aulked, longed for reconciliation, and
made no move ill picnic or water party
brought them together, and then it was
either, Harry, | was a beast, " or, Art,
I'm sorry '-Sometimes only glance
from the violet eyes, or an abrupt ring
crushing grip from q big brown hand;
but, at all events, Harry's "make up" q
don't imply, mark you, that the lady bad
studied The mysteries of macquiJlGge) and
Arts unconditional surrender were al
ways full and complete.
They were not engaged, nor had they
ever spoken Of such thing; but they
were 'Chums, or, at least, SO they said
TO each other. Their sympathics lay
chiefly in mutual dislikings Of certain peo-
y
forms, creative, critical, and emotional.
they were wont to make almost malicious
fun over Shakspere, Burne- Jones, WaC-
ner, the Society for Psychical Research,
melancholy bards, earnest actors with
purposes, and generally the group that
Art Glow art she called him) was wont
TO irreverently allude to as "the Serious
Johnnles, were their pet aversions; but
there were certain players, and play
houses, and newspapers, and race meet
ings, whose names | forget, that they
sedulously patronized. They also liked
each other, IN which last particular |
must admit that they were not TO blame,
particularly at the moments of tender
truce making referred to. They were
both poor; for Art, younger son. had
but small allowance from the irate
Duke; and Harry was the youngest of
the five unmarried daughters Of an nd.
miral { "a retired Rear-N Vice Commodore
Of the Pea Green, or something Of the
kind" Art at once called him), who was
an irascible old sailor Of ancient family.
who sat as director all day on the
boards of "dicky' companies in the City,
and sat at his club all night, telling stories
of all the sca-fghts from Salamis to Alex
andria.
Every wise man has, at some time OIL
another in his life, been struck with the
folly he has committed by the simple al
of social introduction. Thin edges O.
wedges, fractured friendships, nay, muir
behring's OF loves, have sprung from the
fatal little formula, Don't you know
each other? Really, you ought Al
low me to present" and then the eter
nal mischief is done There is a littlt
devil called the Introduction Demon,
and when the wrong people are intro
duced to each other, he always chuckles
over his victim-the introdncer. HI
(the little demon) had real good crow
when Art Lanton, climbing up jim Trip
Psr'I drag at the last meet Of the Coach