page 46

How V. C. Bachelors' Club Stock Fell Below Par.

When a man is hard hit it is good to put pipe between lips lips and feet up to the fire, and let his thoughts run over the course quite slowly, to see how he tripped at the turning. That is what we all did, very quietly, watching the smokerings, and gripping the chair-arms because of a feeling that they too might slip away. It was like drifting to leeward, anchor down, but no holding-ground. And so our fair first hopes had been so many poppy-petals, of course we wanted to disguise the fact from one another, but we really had hankered after Von for the President's chair, to see that we bachelor commoners were nice in all observances,—Von, who would drop in and talk of the scent of the old College lime-trees, of the eight-oar a-nosing thought the Isis, of Oxford in June. Could it be that all this was lost in that paper lying where it had fluttered from the Chairman's hands? Someone picked it up and read it over to himself; but we knew every word,—" Regret am not eligible for honour nomination. Best wishes." Not eligible;—there was couched the whole tragedy. He'd done what everybody does—except us. And he regretted it—he said so-poor fellow! For two minutes our sympathy sifted from us the sense of our loss. Then the chairman asked if any one in the room was sufficiently a hypocrite to send him our congratulations. Some one was. And sadly, the while Mendelssöhn's Funeral March wsa played, we filled the calices with Massic wine.

I hate letter-writing; therefore I hated the letter that was handed in as the last bass notes died in the sounding-board. A London post-mark was on the envelope; inside were little flashes of side-lights on the voyage of a certain personage. We were somewhat interested in that personage. In the utterly improbable event of Von's failing to sit about the salt, we were resolved to have side lights such resolve looked the varies mockery. You see it was Mac,—Mac the debonair, the lone-handed,—and the affair so to speak, put a hand over your mouth so that the breath came through in a manner chopped. Undoubtedly he was sore stricken to the heart, for though he page 47 still as of old argued enthusiastically in a circle, yet since that ester ha couched the cataract over our eye we had noticed a hesitation on his part to advance on cold prosaic black — board with cold prosaic chalk the proposition that x=1. It may have been that to him x represented some other one. And presently one of our number, Alexander Magnus—so long shelved that the whitest and could weave no net about his heart, - looking hard at the fire, asked if we had observed how listless had been the stricken one (not then known to be such) in parrying our last Euclidean onslaught. Usually when anything like this was about in the air, he would be hastily afoot and leaning his back against the mantelpiece defend, with some Cambridge tricks he had, until the gas — bill was as heavy as our heads : but this once he had remained in his chair, with no fight in him, seeming to lean over to our side of the case. Euclid, we had told defendant, had perhaps the making of a sufficiently good fellow could he but have been taken in hand before he — — — well, before. And the pity of it that he should have bungled through life as he did ! If one could have not him tramping up the gullies, dog at heel, gum tucked under arm, that he might have felt the clean hill breeze going about his tramples, heard the wild ducks coming off the water, or the whit of the quail flashing for cover, - could such have been done, then supposing that the bad blood was in him and he was fated to fall to so low a thing as quill-spoiling, he might at the worst have given us some readable yarns of some heavy bags instead of the wherewithal for anathemas evermore, and instead of mumbling over his conceited Q. E. D. But it was evident the man was no sport. This and more had we said, feeling strongly upon the subject, but Mac had all along sat looking at us indifferent-like, seeming to acquiesce. Thereafter he had gone abroad to study education systems; and now was come this letter from one we could trust. So with cold water down the spine, we realised that a queen and stepped upon the dais whereon had lately stetted Euclid. Jilted were we for the queen, and the place still hurts when one draws deep, thinking over the matter; but because we liked him for that he was whole-hearted (and perhaps he was not alone to blame) there was nothing left us but to knock the neck off the Falernian, and drink to his luck—and the queen's. Bene Mac.

We emptied the pocula and settle stiffly down to the inevitable. Bad business, a miss with both barrels ! So we slipped in the last cartridge and lay low. When we met next night there was Arbiter Bibendi, tight-lipped, and fumbling with a missive. Why did we wince? It ran—"Urgent. Regret cannot accept nomination. Prior engagement. Regards." It was from the leather-hunter who must have gone dear-stalking page 48 clean against our rules (hereon consult 'Whiskey'). The last cartridge and another miss ! Truly the lights were out on the stage for us. The logs on the fire must have been green; the room had got quite cold. Somebody threatened details; but some other somebody pitched ' The Wedding March ' at his head. We turned out the lamps an ourselves. Despite the departing company, there was loneliness all along the chilly passage. I heard Arbiter Bibendi at my elbow muttering peevishly to himself. —

"Home is the Hunter, home from the hill,
And the Sailor home from the sea."

P. S. V. C. Bachelors' Club wound up. Subscriptions formed into a sinking-fund to meet imminent calls.