The Arizona sentinel., 1886-01-09
"A THOUSAND TO FIVE"
How a Poor College Student Won
 @ Wager and @ Wife.

If you take sharp turn to the right midway on the Ifey road between the City of Oxon and Littlemore Asylum a beautiful green lane will bring you to the locks and the narrow foot-bridge which, for convenience, is placed across the flood-gates that you may pass to the opposite bank of the Thames. The an- tique city lies still to your right with its spires, and domes, and college towers, which stand out in clear-cut, dark up- rights against the wintry, gray sky, or, in the blue haze of summer mist, appear as if dressed in purple gauge.
 The bank on which you stand has a wide foot-path, which narrows as you recede from the city. Here the river deepens slightly, refecting luxurious green shrubbery, while few yards far ther on the stream grows so shallow that rank, though not unpicturesque, weeds and water-fowers spring up to greet the eye.
 In the early morning or on summer evenings true admirers of the beautiful never miss frequenting this spot. Low ers, the invalid, the weary student-all alike here find rest and long to breathe in an air that seems to stir into life everything in the vicinity.
 It was the day after the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. At the former university things were unusually quiet, though the crews were far from discour- aged At the latter there was high glee. After many successive years of strug- gling and defeat Cambridge had once more won the day. The fates had de- cided in her favor.
 Yet few earnest coXswains and train CTS might be seen in busy conversation at the various newly-painted and gilded boat-houses, and not a few canoes and gigs had demanded an opening of the locks that morning. Still the marked excitement and hustle of the three pre- ceding days had now all but died away. A sober air pervaded everything. Song birds from their boughs but twittered slightly and seemed to glance askance at passers-by.
 FFYes, Jack, that was the bet.
 ''Frightful odds, wasn't it?" chimed in Bently Knoll.
 But say, old fellow, do tell us that tale" pursued the first speaker, a stall wart among the three young crack oars men of the first Oxford crew.
 He addressed Paul Clifton. They were seated with elbows on knees and half reclining over the rail of Magdalen Col lege boat-house. All were attired in loose blouses, sleeves tucked up, white boating trousers and canvas shoes.
 Paul Clifton, or Captain Cliff, as his companions sometimes called him, was the oldest Fellow in Jesus College. With a forehead largely intellectual, though pinched in face and slightly stopped, he was deemed the largest hearted fellow in all Oxfordshire. The whole faculty loved him, and the mean est undergraduate in his presence had no fears.
 I'm a whale if you fellows don't bore man," was the reply, accompa- nied with the best-natured of grins.
 But say, Cliff, we chaps never heard that story, and, then, you tell it so well"
 A slap between the shoulders, and Paul coughed. All laughed heartily and the old scholar began:
 Well, my lads, you must know that Maud Cavaliers, as we called her, was in her own right one of the noblest, wealthiest, prettiest and proudest ladies in all Oxon. She had seen nineteen beautiful summers. and the winters could not have been very severe, for they had left nothing cold or ugly or ob- jectionable in her nature. Yet, as l said, she was proud, and she had right to be. Yes, she was gem of a girl-a regular darling Both her parents were dead, and her uncle, with whom she lived, was Dean of Magdalen College and one among the most indulgent of old gentlemen.
 "Throughout our University City Lady Maud was the rage and adoration oi young and old. 1 have heard it said that, like morning star,- she lit the path of many poor professor and care worn student. They did not all love her, for the simple reason that they dared not. But it did the fellows good to sit in their windows and see her float past on her customary morning walk. l tell you, my lads" and Clifton struck his brawny thigh as if to emphasize what he said, ''there are some women who are to the earth as angels, and to marry them is in part to spoil them. Such wa' Lady Maud. Love was in the air she exhaled, and tenderness seemed to waf from the very folds of her garment whither soever she moved.
 Well, it was just twenty-seven years ago. and Christopher Lund was thC poorest undergraduate at Jesus College So poor that the chapel mice shunneC his scanty apartment and ran affrighteC into their holes at his approach. Yet by his pen he managed to maintain himsel at college and in large measure helped to support an invalid sister at an incur able home in Wales. He was quiet earnest, honest fellow, and we all pitieC him and, without his knowing it, helped him in a hundred little ways.
 Next to my room and domiciled il luxury lived young Tankerville, th' Cresus of our college. His fathers in heritance had but fallen to him some months before, and he deserved it. H. was capital fellow, large-hearted empty-headed and brimfull of sport. Hi
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