PETER was a good boy. He went to Sunday school regularly, and always
took off his hat to his superiors--he so objected to gambling that
he never called them "betters." One day PETER found a sovereign, and
fearing, lest it might be a gilded jubilee shilling, decided to spend
it upon himself, rather than run the risk of possibly causing the
Police to put it in circulation, under the impression that it was
a coin of the higher value. He spent ten shillings on a ticket to
Boulogne-sur-Mer, and with the remaining half-sovereign played at
_Chemin de Fer_ at the Casino. And, alas! this was his first straying
from the path of virtue. Unfortunately he was most unlucky (from a
moral point of view) in his venture, leaving the tables with a sum
exceeding forty pounds. Feeling reluctant that money so ill-gained
should remain for very long in his possession, he spent a large slice
of it in securing a ticket for Monte Carlo.
Arrived at this dreadful place he backed Zero fifteen times running,
was unhappy enough to break the bank, and retired to rest with over
ten thousand pounds. He now decided, that he had best return to
England, where he felt sure he would be safe from further temptation.
When he was once more in London, he could not make up his mind whether
he should contribute his greatly scorned fortune to the Committee of
the Sunday School Union, or plank his last dollar on a rank outsider
for a place in the Derby. From a feeling of delicacy, he adopted the
latter course, and was indescribably shocked to pull off his fancy
at Epsom. Thinking that the Committee of the same useful body would
refuse to receive money obtained under such painful circumstances, he
plunged deeply on the Stock Exchange, and again added considerably
to his much-hated store. It was at this period in his history that
he married, and then the punishment he had so justly merited overtook
him. His wife was a pushing young woman, whose great delight was
to see her name in the Society papers. This pleasure she managed to
secure by taking a large house, and giving costly entertainments to
all sorts and conditions of individuals. Poor PETER soon found this
mode of life intolerably wearisome. He now never knew an hour's
peace, until one day he determined to run away from home, leaving in
the hands of his wife all that he possessed. His absence made no
perceptible difference in Mrs. PETER's _ménage_. It was generally
supposed that he was living abroad. However, on one winter night there
was a large gathering at his wife's house, and, it being very cold,
the guests eagerly availed themselves of the services of the linkman,
who had told himself off to fetch their carriages.
And, when everyone was gone, the poor linkman asked the mistress of
the house for some broken victuals.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed that Lady, "if it isn't my husband! What do
you mean, PETER, by so disgracing me?"
"Disgrace you!--not I!" returned PETER. "No one recognises me. Of all
the guests that throng my house, and eat my suppers, I don't believe
there is a solitary individual who knows me by sight."
And PETER was right. Ah, how much better would it have been had PETER
remained at school, and not found that sovereign! Had he remained at
school, he would some day have acquired a mass of information that
would have been of immense assistance to him when his father died, and
he succeeded to the paternal broom, and the right of sweep over the
family street-crossing!
* * * * *
[Illustration: TOO MUCH GENIUS.
_Poet_. "OH--A--I ALWAYS WRITE MY POEMS RIGHT OFF, WITHOUT ANY
CORRECTIONS, YOU KNOW, AND SEND THEM STRAIGHT TO THE PRINTER. I NEVER
LOOK AT 'EM A SECOND TIME."
_Critic_. "NO MORE DO YOUR READERS, MY BOY!"]
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