_March, 1889._
_BAD COMPANY_.
There has been much talk about the insensate youth who boasted that he
had squandered half-a-million on the Turf in a year. The marvellous
journalists who frequent betting resorts printed hundreds of paragraphs
every week explaining the wretched boy's extravagances--how he lost ten
thousand pounds in one evening at cards; how he lost five thousand on
one pigeon-shooting match; how he kept fifty racehorses in training; how
he made little presents of jewelry to all and sundry of his friends; how
he gaily lost fifteen thousand on a single race, though he might have
saved himself had he chosen; how he never would wear the same shirt
twice. Dear boy! Every day those whose duty compels them to read
newspapers were forced to see such nauseous stuff, so that a lad's
private business became public property, and no secret was made of
matters which were a subject for grief and scorn. Hundreds of grown men
stood by and saw that boy lose a fortune in two hours, and some forty
paragraphs might have been collected in which the transaction was
described in various terms as a gross swindle. A good shot was killing
pigeons--gallant sport--and the wealthy schoolboy was betting.
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