THE LAST BACHELOR.
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THE LAST BACHELOR.


1t was on New Years Eve in 1890, that
twelve young professional men sat round the ta-
bic of cub-room 81 supper. The cloth had
been removed, and notning was left on the table
but an expressive black bottle, and single thin,
spiriuelle-looking glass to each member. They
had drunk up to the best Burgundy.


The old clock struck eleven, and the last hour
of the year was hailed with an upoarious well
come.


"a bumper, gentlemen said Harry st. John,
the sad dog of the club, "brim you. peakers,
my friends, and let every man be under the table
when the ghost of the old year passes over.''


"No, no!'' timidly demonstrated Ernest Gour-
lay, pale graduate just from the University, who
sat modestly at the bottom Of the table, ''no, no!
it is a sad hour, and not merry one! Cork the
bottle until after twelve We have lost 100 many
hours of the year to throw away the last! let us
be rational until the clock strikes, at least and
then drink if you will. For my part, never pass
these irrevocahle periods without chill at my
heart. Come, st. John, indulge me this time!
Push back the bottle!'' The dark eyes of the
handsome student flashed as he looked around.
and the wild spirits Of the club were sobered for
a moment only!


Good advice" said Fred Esperel, young
physician, breaking the silence, ''but, like my
own pills, to be taken at discretion. Sink moral
izing, say. There are times and places enough
when we must be grave. O'Lavendar, fill your
glass, and trump philosophy


''Smother me! but you're all wrong" hiccup.
ped the dandy, who was always sentimental in
his cups, "Gourlay, there, q am shocked at your
cravat, by the way, Ernest) Gourlay is nearer
to it but--but-he smacks of his vocation; no
prcaching-let us be (pass the bottle, Tom!')
sober. Send fora dozen champagne-and when
the clock strikes tw-twelve, Chose cursed olives
make me stutter) seal it up-solcmr, for the
last surviving -member,-solemnly, | do
|say!'


"What's the use?' Numbered Tom Corliss,
who, until the third bottle, had not spoken a
word, and from such symptoms was strongly
suspected of being in love, "who would drink it!
not |, faith! what! sit down, when eleven such
fellows slept without their pillows to drink
It's an odd taste of yours, my dear maccaroni
1t would be much better to travestie that whim
and seal up bottle Of uinegar for the last
| bachelor"


! The proposition was received with universal
shout of appreciation. The vinegar was ordered
with pen, ink and paper. Gourlay wrote out
bond, by which. every member bound himse
TO drink It, in case it fell to his lot on the nigh
the last man, save himself, was married; and altel
passing round the table, it was laid aside, with
its irregular signatures, until twelve. As the
clock struck, the seal was set upon the bottle anC
after somewhat thoughtful bumper, charged tc
his keeping.


1t was on the last night of ls4O,. that single
gentleman sat down alone at the club table ir
i M.i, bott1 md nle
glass before him. The rain was beating violently
against the windows, and in pause of the gust
as he sat with his hands thrust deeply into his
pockets, the solemn tones of the old clock, strk
ing eleven, reached his ear. He started, ant
seizing the bottle, held it up to the light, with {
contraction Of the muscles Of his face, and shud
der Of disgust quite incomprehensible to the soli


tary servant who waited his pleasure.
4 You may leave the room, William" said he


as the door closed, he drew from his pocket


smoky, time-stained manuscript and numbe
of letters, and threw them impatently on the ia
bic. After sitting moment, and tightening hi


coat around him III the manner of one who screw
up his resolution with some difficulty, he file
his glass from the boGte, and drank it off with
sudden and hysterical gulp.


fI "Bah! It cuts like sword. And so here


am-the last bachelor! little thought it tel
years. ago, this night How fresh it is in m.


mind! Ten years since, put the seal on tla
bottle with own hand! 1t seems impossible
How distinctly | remember those dozen rascal
Benedicts who are laughing at me tonight, seat
ed around this very table, and roaring at my pro
posion All married-St. John, and Fred Es
perel, and little Gouray, and tonight, last Of al
J IO'Lavender has got before me with his curse


alacrity. And an,--it's useless to deny It'll
OLD bachelor. |, Tom Corliss--that am as sol
in my nature as milk diet!'-i, that could fall i
} love, any time in my life, from mere propn
quity!-l, that never saw bright eye, nor touch
ed a delicate finger, nor heard treble voic
, without making love presently to its owner!
+ Tom Corliss-an old bachelor! Was it for thi
!, complimented one for her beauty and anohe
for her wit! Was it for this played shade,
g three nights successfully to one, and haunted tn