A body of students crossed the ocean to win a boat-race, and the public Press told us in very large capitals what they ate and drank, and the exact condition of a boil belonging to one of the party.  But the heart of the nation beat high with hope, until the appalling intelligence was flashed across the wires that they were defeated.  It was a cruel blow.  Strong men looked at one another in mute agony, or spoke as if there was a corpse in the next room.  The Press sent up a wail that resounded through the land.  An eminent divine pronounced it a “National misfortune,” and the pictorials containing wood-cuts of the lamented heroes were put away, as we put away the playthings of a child that has died.

No wonder that Mr. Jeffry MAULBOY was looked up to and courted, for he had a medal bestowed upon him as a Champion Paddler, and had lost a bet of fifty dollars on the “Great International Contest.”

But his towering ambition remained unsated.  He realized that he lived in a progressive age, and his superior talents enabled him to take a stand far ahead of his fellows.  By diligent application to his noble profession, he was now a member of that exalted Institution, “The Prize Ring of America,” and the letters P.R.U.S.A. were elegantly imprinted with blue ink upon his right arm.

There were two persons present, however, who didn’t regard Jeffry MAULBOY as a little god.  One was the Hon. Michael ladle; the other was Ann Brummet.

She was putting her tongue out, and making faces at him from behind an apple-tree.  A lady who saw her said it improved her appearance.

When Belinda chose Jeffry, he very deliberately took a chew of tobacco, and said he wouldn’t play.

“This is the sickest croquet party I ever saw,” said Belinda.  “All backing out.  Spos’en I take you then, you dear old buffer,” she added, addressing the Hon. Michael.

“I may be an old buffer,” said the Hon. Member from the West, but I am young enough for anything here.  As Stowe Byron says: 

    “Oh, days of my childhood’s hours,
    I’m a gazin’ on ye yit.”

He was interrupted by Jeffry MAULBOY.

“You say you are young enough for anything here,” said he; “suppose you and I try a little mill out back of the house.”

“Young man,” replied the Hon. Michael, “if there’s one mistake in life that your parents grieve over, it is probably the mistake of your birth.  If you don’t have any serious drawbacks, and are careful of your health, you will make a first-class dead beat.  When a man insults me, sir, I lay him out, without depending in the smallest degree upon an undertaker, but as for standing up in front of a man who mashes noses by contract, and chaws off ears as a matter of genteel business, why it ain’t my cut.”

Jeffry MAULBOY took another chew of tobacco.