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THE LAST OF THE THOMASES

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There was a man named Thomas. There generally is. His surname was Thomas, and his Christian name was Thomas, so his full name was Thomas Thomas.

This is very peculiar.

Thomas's family tree had been ringbarked at his father's death, for Thomas was not married, and he was the last descendant of an honorable family. It looked as if the family could not descend any further.

His father died in very romantic circumstances. He sprained his ankle in Macquarie Street, and a young doctor, seeing him fall, ordered him into hospital and operated on him for appendicitis, so successfully, that he died a martyr to science.

On his father's death, Thomas became an orphan, because his mother had died some months before he was born. He graduated as an orphan quite easily.

Thanks to the commonsense laws of this country, all that was necessary for him to become a qualified orphan was that both, or all, of his parents should be dead.

Poor Thomas was cast out into the cruel world to earn his own living. No one can realise the horrors of this unless they have had to earn their own living themselves, so it is no use trying to explain.

It was a bit hot on him, being cast out into the world, though.

With tears in his eyes he watched the landlord kick the door in and seize the furniture his poor old mother had made when she was a girl. Sadly he locked the landlord in, and set fire to the house, and then started out for the cold, hard city.

He had nothing, not even a cat. Not a solitary bell tolled him to come back and be a Lord Mayor.

Going along the road, he struck a kindhearted motorist, who gave him a lift. Or, rather, the motorist struck him. He was lifted about eight feet.

He continued on his way, and at last, after many vicissitudes too numerous to mention, entered the city on his hands and knees.

As he was crawling along in the gutter, a big man in a motor car sliced his ear off with the mudguard, and then, pulling up, greeted him with a hearty laugh.

"I can see by your attitude," he said, "that you are looking for work. You look miserable enough to work for practically nothing.

"I might employ you.

"How long is it since you've had a meal?"

"Three weeks," said Thomas.

That was a lie, as he had only been without food for two weeks. Which just shows you the low cunning of some people.

But the kind gentleman did not suspect that he was being imposed upon, and he smiled and gently patted Thomas with his foot.

"Hang on to the spare tyre of my car," he said. "I will take you with me."

And so Thomas arrived at the ancestral halls of the kind gentleman, luxuriously hanging on to the spare tyre.

The kind gentleman, who was a retired alderman and very wealthy, allowed him to sleep in the garage, and at first he was bewildered by the luxury which surrounded him, but after a while he got used to it and became more refined.

Thomas progressed rapidly in his master's favor, and after a few months he was doing all the jobs about the place, and the master was able to sack all the servants, including the chauffeur, gardener and the confidential secretary.

Thomas was an ambitious young man, and at 3 a.m., after he had finished his work, he spent the two hours of leisure remaining to him, not in sleep, but in study.

He studied so hard that soon he knew the past form of every horse in the State.

Then the devil tempted him. He embezzled 40 pounds of the kind gentleman's money and went to the races.

The same fate overtook him as has overtook many another who has heeded Satan's promptings.

He won 4000 pounds.

Returning to his place of employment, he assaulted the kind gentleman who had befriended him. The kind gentleman never recovered, and, although the police were a bit suspicious, they never did anything to Thomas, as a man with 20,000 pounds (it was a three-day race meeting) would never do such a thing. At least that is what the police thought, but then the police are very dense sometimes.

Sir Thomas (for such he was by this time) soon became known far and wide for his good works, and there were more special inquiries held on his doings than any other gentleman in the land. His name became a household word and many people were arrested for saying the word in public.

But Sir Thomas died. Strange to say, died in an even more romantic way than father. Driving his car one day, he had been chasing a pedestrian, and at last, tiring of the sport, he ran over him.

The pedestrian had a bottle in his pocket.

The tyre burst, and Sir Thomas was flung out of the car with such force that he spread all over the wall of a nearby building.

When the horrified bystanders scraped him off, he was dead.

So ended the last of the Thomases.

Let this story be a lesson to you, gentle and somewhat dull reader. No matter what people may say, no matter how you are tempted—never be an orphan.