The ordinary valour only worksAt those rare intervals when peril lurks;There is a courage, scarcer far, and stranger,Which nothing can intimidate but danger.Original Stanza by H. B. J.NO sooner had Mr Bhosh obeyed the summons of Lord Jack, than the latter not only violently reproached him for having embezzled the heart of his chosen bride, but inflicted upon him sundry severe kicks from behind, barbarously threatening to encore the proceeding unless Chunder instantaneously agreed to meet him in a mortal combat.Our hero, though grievously hurt, did not abandon his presence of mind in his tight fix. Seating himself upon a divan, so as to obviate any repetition of such treatment, hethus addressed his former friend: "My dear Jack, Plato observes that anger is an abbreviated form of insanity. Do not let us fall out about so mere a trifle, since one friend is the equivalent of many females. Is it my fault that feminines overwhelm me with unsought affections? Let us both remember that we are men of the world, and if you on your side will overlook the fact that I have unwittingly fascinated yourfiancée, I, on mine, am ready to forget my unmerciful kickings."But Lord Jolly violently rejected such a give-and-take compromise, and again declared that if Mr Bhosh declined to fight he was to receive further kicks. Upon this Chunder demanded time for reflection; he was no bellicose, but he reasoned thus with his soul: "It is not certain that a bullet will hit—whereas, it is impossible for a kick to miss its mark."So, weeping to find himself between a deep sea and the devil of a kicking, he accepted the challenge, feeling like Imperial Cæsar,when he found himself compelled to climb up a rubicon after having burnt his boots!Being naturally reluctant to kick his brimming bucket of life while still a lusty juvenile, Mr Bhosh was occupied in lamenting the injudiciousness of Providence when he was most unexpectedly relieved by the entrance of his lady-love, the Princess Jones, who, having heard that her letter had fallen into Lord Jack's hands, and that a sanguinary encounter would shortly transpire, had cast off every rag of maidenly propriety, and sought a clandestine interview.She brought Bindabun the gratifying intelligence that she was apersona gratawith his lordship's seconder, Mr Bodgers, who was to load the deadly weapons, and who, at her request, had promised to do so with cartridges from which the bullets had previously been bereft.Such a piece of good news so enlivened Mr Bhosh, that he immediately recovered his usual serenity, and astounded all by his perfectnonchalance. It was arranged that the tragical affair should come off in the back garden of Baronet Jolly's castle, immediately after breakfast, in the presence of a few select friends and neighbours, among whom—needless to say—was Princess Petunia, whose lamp-like optics beamed encouragement to her Indian champion, and the Duchess of Dickinson, who was now the freehold tenement of those fiendish Siamese twins—Malice and Jealousy. At breakfast, Mr Bhosh partook freely of all the dishes, and rallied his antagonist for declining another fowl-egg, rather wittily suggesting that he was becoming a chicken-hearted. The company then adjourned to the garden, and all who were non-combatants took up positions as far outside the zone of fire as possible.Mr Bhosh was rejoiced to receive from the above-mentioned Mr Bodgers a secret intimation that it was the put-up job, and little piece of allright, which emboldened him to make the rather spirited proposalto his lordship, that they were to fire—not at the distance of one hundred paces, as originally suggested—but across the more restricted space of a nosekerchief. This dare-devilish proposal occasioned a universal outcry of horror and admiration; Mr Bhosh's seconder, a young poor-hearted chap, entreated him to renounce his plan of campaign, while Lord Jack and Mr Bodgers protested that it was downright tomfolly.Chunder, however, remained game to his backbone. "If," he ironically said, "my honble friend prefers to admit that he is inferior in physical courage to a native Indian who is commonly accredited with a funky heart, let him apologise. Otherwise, as a challenged, I am the Master of the Ceremonies. I do not insist upon the exchange of more than one shoot—but it is thesine quâ nonthat such shoot is to take place across a nosewipe."Upon which his lordship became green as grass with apprehensiveness, being unawarethat the cartridges had been carefully sterilised, but glueing his courage to the sticky point, he said, "Be it so, you bloodthirsty little beggar—and may your gore be on your own knob!""It is always barely possible," retorted Mr Bhosh, "that we maybothmiss the target!" And he made a secret motion to Mr Bodgers with his superior eyeshutter, intimating that he was to remember to omit the bullets.But lackadaisy! as Poet Burns sings, the best-laid schemes both of men and in the mouse department are liable to gang aft—and so it was in the present instance, for Duchess Dickinson intercepted Chunder Bindabun's wink and, with the diabolical intuition of a feminine, divined the presence of a rather suspicious rat. Accordingly, on the diaphanous pretext that Mr Bodgers was looking faintish and callow, she insisted on applying a very large smelling-jar to his nasal organ.Whether the vessel was charged with salts of superhuman potency, or some narcotic drug,I am not to inquire—but the result was that, after a period of prolonged sternutation, Mr Bodgers became impercipient on a bed of geraniums.Thereupon Chunder, perceiving that he had lost his friend in court, magnanimously said: "I cannot fight an antagonist who is unprovided with a seconder, and will wait until Mr Bodgers is recuperated." But the honourable and diabolical duchess nipped this arrangement in the bud. "It would be a pity," said she, "that Mr Bhosh's fiery ardour should be cooled by delay.Iam capable to load a firearm, and will act as Lord Jolly's seconder."Our hero took the objection that, as a feminine was not legally qualified to act as seconder in mortal combats, the duel would be rendered null and void, and appealed to his own seconder to confirm thisobiter dictum.Unluckily the latter was a poor beetlehead who was in excessive fear of offending the Duchess, and gave it as his opinion that sex was no disqualification, and that the Duchessof Dickinson was fully competent to load the lethal weapons, provided that she knew how.Whereupon she, regarding Mr Bhosh with the malignant simper of a fiend, did not only deliberately fill each pistol-barrel with a bullet from her own reticule bag, but also had the additionaldiablerieto extract a miniature lacedmouchoirexquisitely perfumed with cherry-blossoms, and to say, "Please fire across this. I am confident that it will bring you good luck."And Mr Bhosh recognised with emotions that baffle description the very counterpart of the nose-handkerchief which she had flung at him months previously at the aforesaid fashionable Bayswater Ball! Now was our poor miserable hero indeed up the tree of embarrassment—and there I must leave him till the next chapter.CHAPTER VILORD JOLLY IS SATISFIEDAh, why should two, who once were bosom's friends,Present at one another pistol ends?Till one pops off to dwell in Death's Abode—All on account of Honour's so-called code!Thoughts on Duelling, by H. B. J.MANY a more hackneyed duellist than our unfortunate friend Bhosh might well have been frightened from his propriety at the prospect of fighting with genuine bullets across so undersized a nosekerchief as that which the Duchess had furnished for the fray.But Mr Bhosh preserved his head in perfect coolness: "It is indisputably true," he said, "that I proposed to shoot across a pocketkerchief—but I am not an effeminate female that I should employ such a lacelike and flimsy concern as this! As a challenged, I claim myconstitutional right under Magna Charta to provide my own nosewipe."And, as even my Lord Jack admitted that this was legally correct, Mr Bhosh produced a very large handsome nosekerchief in parti-coloured silks.This he tore into narrow strips, the ends of which he tied together in such a manner that the whole was elongated to an incredible length. Then, tossing one extremity to his lordship, and retaining the other in his own hand, he said: "We will fight, if you please, across this—or not at all!"Which caused a working majority of the company, and even Lord Jack Jolly himself, to burst into enthusiastic plaudits of the ingenuity and dexterity with which Mr Bhosh had contrived to extricate himself from the prongs of his Caudine fork.The Duchess, however, was knitting her brows into the baleful pattern of a scowl—for she knew as well as Chunder Bindabun himself that no human pistol was capableto achieve such a distance! The duel commenced. His lordship and Mr Bhosh each removed their upper clothings, bared their arms, and, taking up a weapon, awaited the momentous command to fire.THE BULLET HAD PERFORATED A LARGE CIRCULAR ORIFICE IN HONBLE BODGER'S HATTHE BULLET HAD PERFORATED A LARGE CIRCULAR ORIFICE IN HONBLE BODGER'S HATIt was pronounced, and Lord Jolly's pistol was the first to ring the ambient welkin with its horrid bang. The deadly missile, whistling as it went for want of thought, entered the door of a neighbouring pigeon's house and fluttered the dovecot confoundedly.Mr Bhosh reserved his fire for the duration of two or three harrowing seconds. Then he, too, pulled off his trigger, and after the explosion there was a loud cry of dismay.The bullet had perforated a large circular orifice in Honble Bodger's hat, who, by this time, had returned to self-consciousness!"I could not bring myself to snuff the candle of your honble lordship's existence," said Mr Bhosh, bowing, "but I wished to convince all present that I am not incompetent to hit a mark."And he proceeded to assure Mr Bodger that he was to receive full compensation for any moral and intellectual damage done to his said hat.As for his lordship, he was so overcome by Mr Bhosh's unprecedented magnanimity that he shed copious tears, and, warmly embracing his former friend, entreated his forgiveness, vowing that in future their affection should never again be endangered by so paltry and trivial a cause as the ficklety of a feminine. Moreover, he bestowed upon Bindabun the blushing hand of Princess Jones, and very heartily wished him joy of her.Now the Princess was the solitary brat of a very wealthy merchant prince, Honble Sir Monarch Jones, whose proud and palatial storehouses were situated in the most fashionable part of Camden Town.Sir Jones, in spite of Lord Jack's resignation, did not at first regard Mr Bhosh with the paternal eye of approval, but rather advanced the objection that the colour of his money waspractically invisible. "My daughter," he said haughtily, "is to have a lakh of rupees on her nuptials. Haveyoua lakh of rupees?"Bindabun was tempted to make the rather facetious reply that he had, indeed, a lack of rupees at the present moment.Sir Monarch, however, like too many English gentlemen, was totally incapable of comprehending the simplest Indianjeu des mots, and merely replied. "Unless you canshowme your lakh of rupees, you cannot become my beloved son-in-law."So, as Mr Bhosh was a confirmed impecunious, he departed in severe despondency. However, fortune favoured him, as always, for he made the acquaintance of a certain Jewish-Scotch, whose cognomen was Alexander Wallace McAlpine, and who kindly undertook to lend him a lakh of rupees for two days at interest which was the mere bite of a flea.Having thus acquired the root of all evil, Bindabun took it in a four-wheeled cab and triumphantly exhibited his hard cash to SirJones, who, being unaware that it was borrowed plumage, readily consented that he should marry his daughter. After which Mr Bhosh honourably restored the lakh to the accommodating Scotch minus the interest, which he found it inconvenient to pay just then.I am under great apprehensions that my gentle readers, on reading thus far and no further, will remark: "Oho! then we are already at thefinis, seeing that when a hero and heroine are once booked for connubial bliss, their further proceedings are of very mediocre interest!"Let me venture upon the respectful caution that every cup possesses a proverbially slippery lip, and that they are by no means to take it as granted that Mr Bhosh is so soon married and done for.Remember that he still possesses a rather formidable enemy in Duchess Dickinson, who is irrevocably determined to insert a spike in his wheel of fortune. For a woman is so constituted that she can never forgive anindividual who has once treated her advances with contempt, no matter how good-humoured such contempt may have been. No, misters, if you offend a feminine you must look out for her squalls.Readers are humbly requested not to toss this fine story aside under the impression that they have exhausted the cream in its cocoanut. There are many many incidents to come of highly startling and sensational character.CHAPTER VIITHE ADVENTURE OF THE UNWIELDY GIFTHORSEWhen dormant lightning is pent in the polished hoofs of a colt,And his neck is clothed with thunder,—then, horseman, beware of the bolt!From the Persian, by H. B. J.IN accordance with English usages, Mr Bhosh, being now officially engaged to the fair Princess Jones, did dance daily attendance in her company, and, she being passionately fond of equitation, he was compelled himself to become the Centaur and act as hercavalier servanton a nag which was furnished throughout by a West End livery jobber. Fortunately, he displayed such marvellous dexterity and skill as an equestrian that he did not once sustain a single reverse!Truly, it was a glorious and noble sight tobehold Bindabun clinging with imperturbable calmness to the saddle of his steed, as it ambled and gamboled in so spirited a manner that all the fashionables made sure that he was inevitably to slide over its tail quarters! But invariably he returned, having suffered no further inconvenience than the bereavement of his tall hat, and the heart of Princess Petunia was uplifted with pride when she saw that her betrothed, in addition to being a B.A. and barrister-at-law, was also such a rough rider.It isde rigueurin all civilised societies to encourage matrimony by bestowing rewards upon those who are about to come up to the scratch of such holy estate, and consequently splendid gifts of carriage, timepieces, tea-caddies, slices of fish, jewels, blotter-cases, biscuit-caskets, cigar-lights, and pin-cushions were poured forth upon Mr Bhosh and his partner, as if from the inexhaustibly bountiful horn of a Pharmacopœia.Last, but not least, one morning appearedasaiceleading an unwieldy steed of the complexion of a chestnut, and bearing an anonymously-signed paper, stating that said horse was a connubial gift to Mr Bhosh from a perfervid admirer.Our friend Bindabun was like to throw his bonnet over the mills with excessive joy, and could not be persuaded to rest until he had made a trial trip on his gifted horse, while the amiable Princess readily consented to become his companion.So, on a balmy and luscious afternoon in Spring, when the mellifluous blackbirds, sparrows, and other fowls of that ilk were engaged in billing and cooing on the foliage of innumerable trees and bushes, and the blooming flowers were blowing proudly on their polychromatic beds, Mr Bhosh made the ascension of his gift-horse, and titupped by the side of his betrothed into the Row, the observed of all the observing masculine and feminine smarties.But, hoity-toity! he had not titupped verymany yards when the unwieldy steed came prematurely to a halt and adopted an unruly deportment. Mr Bhosh inflicted corporal punishment upon its loins with a golden-headed whip, at which the rebellious beast erected itself upon its hinder legs until it was practically a biped.THE CANTANKEROUS STEED EXECUTED A LEAP WITH ASTOUNDING AGILITYTHE CANTANKEROUS STEED EXECUTED A LEAP WITH ASTOUNDING AGILITYBindabun, although at the extremity of his wits to preserve his saddle by his firm hold on the bridle-rein, undauntedly aimed a swishing blow at the head and front of the offending animal, which instantaneously returned its forelegs toterra firma, but elevated its latter end to such a degree that our hero very narrowly escaped sliding over its neck by cleverly clutching the saddleback.Next, the cantankerous steed executed a leap with astounding agility, arching its back like a bow, and propelling our poor friend into the air like the arrow, though by providential luck and management on his part he descended safely into his seat after every repetition of this dangerous manœuvre.All things, however, must come to an end at some time, and the unwieldy quadruped at last became weary of leaping and, securing the complete control of his bit, did a bolt from the blue.Willy nilly was Mr Bhosh compelled to accompany it upon its mad, unbridled career, while all witnesses freely hazarded the conjecture that his abduction would be rather speedily terminated by his being left behind, and I will presume to maintain that a less practical horseman would long before have become an ordinary pedestrian.But Bindabun, although both stirrupholes were untenanted, and he was compelled to hold on to his steed's mane by his teeth and nails, nevertheless remained triumphantly in the ascendant.On, on he rushed, making the entire circumference of the Park in his wild, delirious canter, and when the galloping horse once more reappeared, and Mr Bhosh was perceived to be still snug on his saddle, thespectators were unable to refrain from heartfelt joy.A second time the incorrigible courser careered round the Park on his thundering great hoofs, and still our heroic friend preserved his equilibrium—but, heigh-ho! I have to sorrowfully relate that, on his third circuit, it was the different pair of shoes—for the headstrong animal, abstaining from motion in a rather too abrupt manner, propelled Mr Bhosh over its head with excessive velocity into the elegant interior of a victoria-carriage.He alighted upon a great dame who had maliciously been enjoying the spectacle of his predicament, but who now was forced to experience the crushing repartee of histu quoque, for such a forcible collision with his person caused her not only two blackened optics but irremediable damage to the leather of her nose.The pristine beauty of her features was irrecoverably dismantled, while Mr Bhosh—thanks to his landing on such soft and yielding material—remained intact and able to return to his domicile in a fourwheeled cab.Beloved reader, however sceptical thou mayest be, thou wilt infallibly admire with me the inscrutable workings of Nemesis, when thou learnest that the aforesaid great lady was no other than the Duchess of Dickinson, and (what is still more wonderful) that it was she who had insidiously presented him with such a fearful gift of the Danaides as an obstreperous and unwieldy steed!Truly, as poet Shakespeare sagaciously observes, there is a divinity that rough-hews our ends, however we may endeavour to preserve their shapeliness!CHAPTER VIIIA RIGHTABOUT FACER FOR MR BHOSHHalloo! at a sudden your love warfare is changed!Your dress is changed! Your address is changed!Your express is changed! Your mistress is changed!Halloo! at a sudden your funny fair is changed!A song sung by Messengeress Binda before KrishnageeDr. Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong).THOSE who areau faitsin the tortoise involutions of the feminine disposition will hear without astonishment that Duchess Dickinson—so far from being chastened and softened by the circumstance that the curse she had launched at Mr Bhosh's head had returned, like an illominous raven, to roost upon her own nose and irreparably destroy its contour—was only the more bitterly incensed against him.Instead of interring the hatchet that had flown back, as if it were that fabulous volatile the boomerang, she was in a greater stew than ever, and resolved to leave no stone unturned to trip him up. But what trick to play, seeing that all the honours were in Mr Bhosh's hands?She could not officiate as Marplot to discredit him in the affections of his ladylove, since the Princess was too severely enamoured to give the loan of her ear to any sibillations from a snake in grass.How else, then, to hinder his match? At this she was seized with an idea worthy of Maccaroni himself. She paid a complimentary visit to the Princess, arrayed in the sheepish garb of a friend, and contrived to lure the conversation on to the vexed question of prying into futurity.Surely, she artfully suggested, the Princess at such a momentous epoch of her existence had, of course, not neglected the sensible precaution of consulting some competent soothsayer respecting the most propitious dayfor her nuptials with the accomplished Mr Bhosh?...What, had she omitted to pop so important a question? How incredibly harebrained! Fortunately, there was yet time to do the needful, and she herself would gladly volunteer to accompany the Princess on such an errand.Princess Petunia fell a ready victim into the jaws of this diabolical booby-trap and inquired the address and name of the cleverest necromancer, for it is matter of notoriety that London ladies are quite as superstitious and addicted to working the oracle as their native Indian sisters.The Duchess replied that the Astrologer-Royal was afacile princepsat uttering a prediction, and accordingly on the very next day she and the Princess, after disguising themselves, set forth on the summit of a tramway 'bus to the Observatory Temple of Greenwich, where, after first propitiating the prophet by offerings, they were ushered into adarkened inner chamber. Although they were strictlypseudo, he at once informed them of their genuine cognomens, and also told them much concerning their past of which they had hitherto been ignorant.And to the Princess he said, stroking the long and silvery hairs of his beard, "My daughter, I foresee many calamities which will inevitably befall thee shouldest thou marry before the day on which the bridegroom wins a certain contest called the Derby with a horse of his own."The gentle Petunia departed melancholy as a gib cat, since Mr Bhosh was not the happy possessor of so much as a single racing-horse of any description, and it was therefore not feasible that he should become entitled to wear thecordon bleuof the turf in his buttonhole on his wedding day!With many sighs and tears she imparted her piece of news to the horror-stricken ears of our hero, who earnestly assured her that it was contrary to commonsense andbonos mores, toattach any importance to the mereipse dixitof so antiquated a charlatan as the Astrologer-Royal, who was utterly incapable—except at very long intervals—to bring about even such a simple affair as an eclipse which was visible from his own Observatory!'MY DAUGHTER, I FORESEE MANY CALAMITIES WHICH WILL INEVITABLY BEFALL THEE''MY DAUGHTER, I FORESEE MANY CALAMITIES WHICH WILL INEVITABLY BEFALL THEE'However, the Princess, being a feminine, was naturally more prone to puerile credulities, and very solemnly declared that nothing would induce her to kneel by Mr Bhosh's side at the torch of Hymen until he should first have distinguished himself as a Derby winner.Whereat Mr Bhosh, perceiving that the date of his nuptial ceremony was become adies nonin a Grecian calendar, did wring his hands in a bath of tears.Alas! he was totally unaware that it was his implacable enemy, the Duchess Dickinson, who had thus upset his apple-cart of felicity—but so it was, for by a clandestine bribe, she had corrupted the Astrologer-Royal—a poor, weak, very avaricious old chap—to trump out such a disastrous prediction.Some heroes in this hard plight would have thrown up the leek, but Mr Bhosh was stuffed with sterner materials. He swore a very long oath by all the gods that he had ceased to believe in, that sooner or later, by crook or hook, he would win the Derby race, though entirely destitute of horseflesh and very ill able to afford to purchase the most mediocre quadruped.Here some sporting readers will probably object! Why could he not enlist his unwieldy gifthorse among Derby candidates and so hoist the Duchess on the pinnacle of her own petard?To which I reply: Too clever by halves, Misters!Imprimis, the steed in question was of far too ferocious a temperament (though undeniably swift-footed) ever to become a favourite with Derby judges; secondly, after dismounting Mr Bhosh, it had again taken to its heels and departed into the Unknown, nor had Mr Bhosh troubled himself to ascertain its private address.But fortune favours the brave. It happened that Mr Bhosh was one day promenading down the Bayswater Road when he was passed by a white horse drawing a milk chariot with unparalleled velocity, outstripping omnibuses, waggons, and even butcher-carts in its wind-like progress, which was unguided by any restraining hand, for the milk-charioteer himself was pursuing on foot.His natural puissance in equine affairs enabled Mr Bhosh to infer that the steed which could cut such a record when handicapped with a cumbrous dairy chariot would exhibit even greater speed if inpuris naturalibus, and that it might even not improbably carry off first prize in the Derby race.So, as the milk-charioteer ran up, overblown with anxiety, to learn the result of his horse's escapade, Mr Bhosh stopped him to inquire what he would take for such an animal.The dairy-vendor, rather foolishly taking it for granted that horse and cart were gone concerns, thought he was making the goodstroke of business in offering the lot for a twenty-pound note."I have done with you!" cried Mr Bhosh sharply, handing over the purchase-money, which he very fortunately chanced to have about him, and galloping off to inspect his bargain, which was like buying a pig after once poking it in the ribs.In what condition he found it I must leave you to learn, my dear readers, in an ensuing chapter.CHAPTER IXTHE DARK HORSEFull many a mare with coat of milkiest sheen,Is dyed in dark unfathomed coal mines drab;Full many a flyer's born to blush unseen,And waste her swiftness on a hansom cab.Lines to order by a young English friend, who swears they are original. But I regard them as an unconscious plagiarism from Poet Young's "Eulogy of a Country Cemetery." H. B. J.It is a gain, a precious, let me gain! let me gain!Oh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!The shower of thine secret shoe-dustOh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!Dr. Ram Kinoo Dutt(of Chittagong).WE left Mr Bhosh in full pursuit of the runaway horse and milk-chariot which he had so spiritedly purchased while stillen route. After running a mile or two, he was unspeakably rejoiced to find that the equipage had automatically come to a standstilland was still in prime condition—with the exception of the lacteal fluid, which had made its escape from the pails.Bindabun, however, was not disposed to weep for long over spilt milk, and had the excessive magnanimity to restore the chariot and pails to the dairy merchant, who was beside himself with gratitude.Then, Mr Bhosh, with a joyful heart, having detached his purchase from the shafts, conducted it in triumph to his domicile. It turned out to be a mare, white as snow and of marvellous amiability; and, partly because of her origin, and partly from her complexion, he christened her by the appellation ofMilky Way.Although perforce a complete ignoramus in the art of educating a horse to win any equine contest, Mr Bhosh's nude commonsense told him that the first step was to fatten his rather too filamentous pupil with corn and similar seeds, and after a prolonged course of beanfeasts he had the gratificationto behold his mare filling out as plump as a dumpling.As he desired her to remain the dark horse as long as possible, he concealed her in a small toolshed at the end of the garden, ministering to her wants with his own hands, and conducting her for daily nocturnal constitutionals several times round the central grass-patch.For some time he refrained from mounting—"fain would he climb but that he feared to fall," as Poet Bunyan once scratched with a diamond on Queen Anne's window; but at length, reflecting that if nothing ventures nothing is certain to win, he purchased a padded saddle with appendages, and surmountedMilky Way, who, far from regarding him as an interloper, appeared gratified by his arrival, and did her utmost to make him feel thoroughly at home.The next step was, of course, to obtain permission from the pundits who rule the roast of the Jockey Club, thatMilky Waymight be allowed to compete in the approaching Derby.Now this was a more delicately ticklish matter than might be supposed, owing to the circumstance that the said pundits are such warm men, and so well endowed with this world's riches that they are practically non-corruptible.Fortunately, Mr Bhosh, as a dabster in English composition, was a pastmaster in drawing a petition, and, sitting down, he constructed the following:—To Those Most Worshipful Bigheads In control of Jockeys Club.Benign Personages!This Petition humbly sheweth:That your Petitioner is a native Indian Cambridge B.A., a Barrister-at-law, and a most loyal and devoted subject of Her Majesty theQueen-Empress.That it is of excessive importance to him, for privatereasons, that he should win a Derby Race.That such a famous victory would be eminently popular with all classes of Indian natives, and inordinately increase their affection for British rule.That for some time past your Petitioner has been diligently training a quadruped which he fondly hopes may gain a victory.That said quadruped is a member of the fair sex.That she is a female horse of very docile disposition, but, being only recently extracted from shafts of dairy chariot, is a total neophyte in Derby racing.That your lordships may direct that she is to be kindly permitted to try her luck in this world-famous competition.That it would greatly encourage her to exhibit topmost speed ifshe could be allowed to start running a few minutes previously to older stagers.That if this is unfortunately contrary to regulations, then the Judge should receive secret instructions to look with a favourable eye upon the said female horse (whose name isMilky Way) and award her first prize, even if by any chance she may not prove quite so fast a runner as more professional hacks:And your Petitioner will ever pray on bended knees that so truly magnificent an institution as the Epsom Derby Course may never be suppressed on grounds of encouraging national vice of gambling and so forth. Signed, &c.The wording of the above proved Mr Bhosh's profound acquaintance with the human heart, for it instantaneously attained the desired end.The Honble Stewards returned a very kindanswer, readily consenting to receiveMilky Wayas a candidate for Derby honours, but regretting that it wasultra viresto concede her a few minutes' start, and intimating that she must start with a scratch in company with all the other horses.Bindabun was not in the least degree cast down or depressed by this refusal of a start, since he had not entertained any sanguine hope that it would be granted, and had only inserted it to make insurance doubly sure, for he was every day more confident thatMilky Waywas to win, even though obliged to step off with the rank and file.CHAPTER XTRUST HER NOT! SHE IS FOOLING THEE!As the Sunset flames most fiery when snuffed out by sudden night;As the Swan reserves its twitter till about to hop the twig;As the Cobra's head swells biggest just before he does his bite;So a feminine smiles her sweetest ere she gives her nastiest dig.Satirical Stanza (unpublished) by H. B. J.Now that our hero had obtained that the name ofMilky Waywas to be inscribed on the Golden Book of Derby candidates, his next proceeding was to hire a practical jockey to assume supreme command of her.And this was no simple matter, since practical jockeys are usually hired many weeks beforehand, and demand handsome wages for taking their seats. But at last, after protracted advertisements, Mr Bhosh had the good fortune to pitch upon a perfect treasure,whose name was Cadwallader Perkin, and who, for his riding in some race or other, had been awarded a whole year's holiday by the stewards who had observed the paramountcy of his horsemanship.No sooner had Perkin inspectedMilky Waythan he was quite in love with his stable companion, and assured his employer that, with more regular out-of-door exercise, she would be easily competent to win the Derby on her head, whereupon Mr Bhosh consented that she should be galloped after dark round the inner circle of Regent's Park, which is chiefly populated at such a time by male and female bicyclists.But in order to pay Perkins charges, and also provide a silken jockey tunic and cap of his own racing colours (which were cream and sky-blue), Mr Bhosh was compelled to borrow more money from Mr McAlpine, who, as a Jewish Scotch, exacted the rather exorbitant interest of sixty per centum.It leaked out in some manner thatMilkyWaywas a coming Derby favourite, and the property of a Native young Indian sportsman, whose entire fortunes depended on her success, and soon immense multitudes congregated in Regent's Park to witness her trials of speed, and cheered enthusiastically to behold the fiery sparks scintillating from the stones as she circumvented the inner circle in seven-leagued boots.Mr Bhosh of course asseverated that she was a very mediocre sort of mare, and that he did not at all expect that she would prove a winner, but connoisseurs nevertheless betted long odds upon her success, and Bindabun himself, though not a speculative, did put on the pot himself upon the golden egg which he was so anxiously hatching.One evening amongst those who were gathered to view the nocturnal exercises ofMilky Waythere appeared a feminine spectator of rather sinister aspect, in a thick veil and a victoria-carriage.It was no other than Duchess Dickinson,who had somehow learnt how courageously Mr Bhosh was endeavouring to fulfil the Astrologer-Royal's prediction, and who had come to ascertain whether his mare was indeed such a paragon of celerity as had been represented.The very first time thatMilky Waycantered past with the gait of a streak of lightning, the Duchess realised with a sinking heart that Mr Bhosh must indubitably succeed at the Derby—unless he was prevented.But how to achieve this? Her womanly instinct told her that Cadwallader Perkin was far too inexperienced to resist for long such mature and ripened charms as hers—even though the latter were unfortunately discounted by the accidental nose-flattening.So, lowering her veil till only her eyes were visible above, she waited till he passed once more, then flung him such a liquid and flashing glance from her starry and now no longer discoloured optics that the young jockey, who was of an excessively susceptible disposition,all but fell off the saddle with emotion, like a very juvenile bird under serpentine observation."He is mine!" said the unscrupulous Duchess internally, laughing up her sleeve at such a proof of her fascinations, "mine! mine!"She had too much intelligence and mother-wit, however, to take any steps until Mr Bhosh should be safely out of the way—and how to accomplish his removal?As an acquaintance with the above-mentioned usurer, McAlpine, she was aware that he had advanced large loans to Mr Bhosh, and so she laid her plans and bided her time.There soon remained only one day before that carnival of all sporting saturnalians, the Epsom Derby day, and Bindabun formed the prudent resolution to avoid any delays or crushings by puttingMilky Wayinto a railway box, and despatching her to Epsom on the previous afternoon, under the chaperonage of Cadwallader Perkin, who was to engage suitable lodgings for her in the vicinity of the course.But just as Bindabun was approaching the booking hole of Victoria terminus to take a horse-ticket, lo and behold! he was rapped on the shoulder by a couple of policemen, who civilly inquired whether his name was not Bhosh.He replied that it was, and that he was the lucky proprietor of a female horse who was infallibly destined to win the Derby, and that he was even now proceeding to purchase her travelling ticket. But the policemen insisted that he must first discharge the full amount of his debt and costs to Mr McAlpine, who had commenced a law-suit."It is highly inconvenient to pay now," replied our hero, "I will settle up after receiving my Derby Stakes.""We are infernally sorry," said the constables, "but we have instructions to imprison you until the amount is stumped up, and anything you say now will be taken down and used against you at your trial."Mr Bhosh remainedsotto voce; and as hewas being led off with gyves upon his wrists, like Aram the usher, whom should he behold but the Duchess of Dickinson!Like all truly first-class heroes, he was of a generous, confiding nature, and his head was not for a moment entered by the suspicion that the Duchess could still cherish any ill feelings towards him. "I am sincerely sorry," he said with good-humoured gallantry, "to observe that your ladyship's nose-leather is still in such bad repair. I was riding a rather muscular steed that afternoon, and could not thoroughly control my movements."She suavely responded that she was proud to have been the means of breaking his fall."Not only my fall—but your own nose!" retorted Mr. Bhosh sympathetically. "A sad pity! Fortunately, at your time of life such disfigurements are of no consequence. I, myself, am now in the pretty pickle."And he explained how he had been arrested for debt, at the very moment when he had anappointment to meet his mare and jockey and see them safely off by the Epsom train."Do not trouble about that," said the Duchess. "Hand me your purse, and I myself will meet them and do the needful on your behalf. I have interest with this Mr McAlpine and will intercede that you are let out immediately."Mr Bhosh kissed her hand as he handed over his said purse. "This is, indeed, a noble return for my coldheartedness," he said, "and I am even more sorry than before that I should have involuntarily dilapidated so exquisite a nose.""Pray do not mention it," replied the Duchess, with the baleful simper of a Sphynx, and Mr Bhosh departed for his durance vile with a mind totally free from misgivings.CHAPTER XISTONE WALLS DO NOT MAKE A CAGE
The ordinary valour only worksAt those rare intervals when peril lurks;There is a courage, scarcer far, and stranger,Which nothing can intimidate but danger.Original Stanza by H. B. J.
The ordinary valour only worksAt those rare intervals when peril lurks;There is a courage, scarcer far, and stranger,Which nothing can intimidate but danger.
Original Stanza by H. B. J.
NO sooner had Mr Bhosh obeyed the summons of Lord Jack, than the latter not only violently reproached him for having embezzled the heart of his chosen bride, but inflicted upon him sundry severe kicks from behind, barbarously threatening to encore the proceeding unless Chunder instantaneously agreed to meet him in a mortal combat.
Our hero, though grievously hurt, did not abandon his presence of mind in his tight fix. Seating himself upon a divan, so as to obviate any repetition of such treatment, hethus addressed his former friend: "My dear Jack, Plato observes that anger is an abbreviated form of insanity. Do not let us fall out about so mere a trifle, since one friend is the equivalent of many females. Is it my fault that feminines overwhelm me with unsought affections? Let us both remember that we are men of the world, and if you on your side will overlook the fact that I have unwittingly fascinated yourfiancée, I, on mine, am ready to forget my unmerciful kickings."
But Lord Jolly violently rejected such a give-and-take compromise, and again declared that if Mr Bhosh declined to fight he was to receive further kicks. Upon this Chunder demanded time for reflection; he was no bellicose, but he reasoned thus with his soul: "It is not certain that a bullet will hit—whereas, it is impossible for a kick to miss its mark."
So, weeping to find himself between a deep sea and the devil of a kicking, he accepted the challenge, feeling like Imperial Cæsar,when he found himself compelled to climb up a rubicon after having burnt his boots!
Being naturally reluctant to kick his brimming bucket of life while still a lusty juvenile, Mr Bhosh was occupied in lamenting the injudiciousness of Providence when he was most unexpectedly relieved by the entrance of his lady-love, the Princess Jones, who, having heard that her letter had fallen into Lord Jack's hands, and that a sanguinary encounter would shortly transpire, had cast off every rag of maidenly propriety, and sought a clandestine interview.
She brought Bindabun the gratifying intelligence that she was apersona gratawith his lordship's seconder, Mr Bodgers, who was to load the deadly weapons, and who, at her request, had promised to do so with cartridges from which the bullets had previously been bereft.
Such a piece of good news so enlivened Mr Bhosh, that he immediately recovered his usual serenity, and astounded all by his perfectnonchalance. It was arranged that the tragical affair should come off in the back garden of Baronet Jolly's castle, immediately after breakfast, in the presence of a few select friends and neighbours, among whom—needless to say—was Princess Petunia, whose lamp-like optics beamed encouragement to her Indian champion, and the Duchess of Dickinson, who was now the freehold tenement of those fiendish Siamese twins—Malice and Jealousy. At breakfast, Mr Bhosh partook freely of all the dishes, and rallied his antagonist for declining another fowl-egg, rather wittily suggesting that he was becoming a chicken-hearted. The company then adjourned to the garden, and all who were non-combatants took up positions as far outside the zone of fire as possible.
Mr Bhosh was rejoiced to receive from the above-mentioned Mr Bodgers a secret intimation that it was the put-up job, and little piece of allright, which emboldened him to make the rather spirited proposalto his lordship, that they were to fire—not at the distance of one hundred paces, as originally suggested—but across the more restricted space of a nosekerchief. This dare-devilish proposal occasioned a universal outcry of horror and admiration; Mr Bhosh's seconder, a young poor-hearted chap, entreated him to renounce his plan of campaign, while Lord Jack and Mr Bodgers protested that it was downright tomfolly.
Chunder, however, remained game to his backbone. "If," he ironically said, "my honble friend prefers to admit that he is inferior in physical courage to a native Indian who is commonly accredited with a funky heart, let him apologise. Otherwise, as a challenged, I am the Master of the Ceremonies. I do not insist upon the exchange of more than one shoot—but it is thesine quâ nonthat such shoot is to take place across a nosewipe."
Upon which his lordship became green as grass with apprehensiveness, being unawarethat the cartridges had been carefully sterilised, but glueing his courage to the sticky point, he said, "Be it so, you bloodthirsty little beggar—and may your gore be on your own knob!"
"It is always barely possible," retorted Mr Bhosh, "that we maybothmiss the target!" And he made a secret motion to Mr Bodgers with his superior eyeshutter, intimating that he was to remember to omit the bullets.
But lackadaisy! as Poet Burns sings, the best-laid schemes both of men and in the mouse department are liable to gang aft—and so it was in the present instance, for Duchess Dickinson intercepted Chunder Bindabun's wink and, with the diabolical intuition of a feminine, divined the presence of a rather suspicious rat. Accordingly, on the diaphanous pretext that Mr Bodgers was looking faintish and callow, she insisted on applying a very large smelling-jar to his nasal organ.
Whether the vessel was charged with salts of superhuman potency, or some narcotic drug,I am not to inquire—but the result was that, after a period of prolonged sternutation, Mr Bodgers became impercipient on a bed of geraniums.
Thereupon Chunder, perceiving that he had lost his friend in court, magnanimously said: "I cannot fight an antagonist who is unprovided with a seconder, and will wait until Mr Bodgers is recuperated." But the honourable and diabolical duchess nipped this arrangement in the bud. "It would be a pity," said she, "that Mr Bhosh's fiery ardour should be cooled by delay.Iam capable to load a firearm, and will act as Lord Jolly's seconder."
Our hero took the objection that, as a feminine was not legally qualified to act as seconder in mortal combats, the duel would be rendered null and void, and appealed to his own seconder to confirm thisobiter dictum.
Unluckily the latter was a poor beetlehead who was in excessive fear of offending the Duchess, and gave it as his opinion that sex was no disqualification, and that the Duchessof Dickinson was fully competent to load the lethal weapons, provided that she knew how.
Whereupon she, regarding Mr Bhosh with the malignant simper of a fiend, did not only deliberately fill each pistol-barrel with a bullet from her own reticule bag, but also had the additionaldiablerieto extract a miniature lacedmouchoirexquisitely perfumed with cherry-blossoms, and to say, "Please fire across this. I am confident that it will bring you good luck."
And Mr Bhosh recognised with emotions that baffle description the very counterpart of the nose-handkerchief which she had flung at him months previously at the aforesaid fashionable Bayswater Ball! Now was our poor miserable hero indeed up the tree of embarrassment—and there I must leave him till the next chapter.
LORD JOLLY IS SATISFIED
Ah, why should two, who once were bosom's friends,Present at one another pistol ends?Till one pops off to dwell in Death's Abode—All on account of Honour's so-called code!Thoughts on Duelling, by H. B. J.
Ah, why should two, who once were bosom's friends,Present at one another pistol ends?Till one pops off to dwell in Death's Abode—All on account of Honour's so-called code!
Thoughts on Duelling, by H. B. J.
MANY a more hackneyed duellist than our unfortunate friend Bhosh might well have been frightened from his propriety at the prospect of fighting with genuine bullets across so undersized a nosekerchief as that which the Duchess had furnished for the fray.
But Mr Bhosh preserved his head in perfect coolness: "It is indisputably true," he said, "that I proposed to shoot across a pocketkerchief—but I am not an effeminate female that I should employ such a lacelike and flimsy concern as this! As a challenged, I claim myconstitutional right under Magna Charta to provide my own nosewipe."
And, as even my Lord Jack admitted that this was legally correct, Mr Bhosh produced a very large handsome nosekerchief in parti-coloured silks.
This he tore into narrow strips, the ends of which he tied together in such a manner that the whole was elongated to an incredible length. Then, tossing one extremity to his lordship, and retaining the other in his own hand, he said: "We will fight, if you please, across this—or not at all!"
Which caused a working majority of the company, and even Lord Jack Jolly himself, to burst into enthusiastic plaudits of the ingenuity and dexterity with which Mr Bhosh had contrived to extricate himself from the prongs of his Caudine fork.
The Duchess, however, was knitting her brows into the baleful pattern of a scowl—for she knew as well as Chunder Bindabun himself that no human pistol was capableto achieve such a distance! The duel commenced. His lordship and Mr Bhosh each removed their upper clothings, bared their arms, and, taking up a weapon, awaited the momentous command to fire.
THE BULLET HAD PERFORATED A LARGE CIRCULAR ORIFICE IN HONBLE BODGER'S HATTHE BULLET HAD PERFORATED A LARGE CIRCULAR ORIFICE IN HONBLE BODGER'S HAT
It was pronounced, and Lord Jolly's pistol was the first to ring the ambient welkin with its horrid bang. The deadly missile, whistling as it went for want of thought, entered the door of a neighbouring pigeon's house and fluttered the dovecot confoundedly.
Mr Bhosh reserved his fire for the duration of two or three harrowing seconds. Then he, too, pulled off his trigger, and after the explosion there was a loud cry of dismay.
The bullet had perforated a large circular orifice in Honble Bodger's hat, who, by this time, had returned to self-consciousness!
"I could not bring myself to snuff the candle of your honble lordship's existence," said Mr Bhosh, bowing, "but I wished to convince all present that I am not incompetent to hit a mark."
And he proceeded to assure Mr Bodger that he was to receive full compensation for any moral and intellectual damage done to his said hat.
As for his lordship, he was so overcome by Mr Bhosh's unprecedented magnanimity that he shed copious tears, and, warmly embracing his former friend, entreated his forgiveness, vowing that in future their affection should never again be endangered by so paltry and trivial a cause as the ficklety of a feminine. Moreover, he bestowed upon Bindabun the blushing hand of Princess Jones, and very heartily wished him joy of her.
Now the Princess was the solitary brat of a very wealthy merchant prince, Honble Sir Monarch Jones, whose proud and palatial storehouses were situated in the most fashionable part of Camden Town.
Sir Jones, in spite of Lord Jack's resignation, did not at first regard Mr Bhosh with the paternal eye of approval, but rather advanced the objection that the colour of his money waspractically invisible. "My daughter," he said haughtily, "is to have a lakh of rupees on her nuptials. Haveyoua lakh of rupees?"
Bindabun was tempted to make the rather facetious reply that he had, indeed, a lack of rupees at the present moment.
Sir Monarch, however, like too many English gentlemen, was totally incapable of comprehending the simplest Indianjeu des mots, and merely replied. "Unless you canshowme your lakh of rupees, you cannot become my beloved son-in-law."
So, as Mr Bhosh was a confirmed impecunious, he departed in severe despondency. However, fortune favoured him, as always, for he made the acquaintance of a certain Jewish-Scotch, whose cognomen was Alexander Wallace McAlpine, and who kindly undertook to lend him a lakh of rupees for two days at interest which was the mere bite of a flea.
Having thus acquired the root of all evil, Bindabun took it in a four-wheeled cab and triumphantly exhibited his hard cash to SirJones, who, being unaware that it was borrowed plumage, readily consented that he should marry his daughter. After which Mr Bhosh honourably restored the lakh to the accommodating Scotch minus the interest, which he found it inconvenient to pay just then.
I am under great apprehensions that my gentle readers, on reading thus far and no further, will remark: "Oho! then we are already at thefinis, seeing that when a hero and heroine are once booked for connubial bliss, their further proceedings are of very mediocre interest!"
Let me venture upon the respectful caution that every cup possesses a proverbially slippery lip, and that they are by no means to take it as granted that Mr Bhosh is so soon married and done for.
Remember that he still possesses a rather formidable enemy in Duchess Dickinson, who is irrevocably determined to insert a spike in his wheel of fortune. For a woman is so constituted that she can never forgive anindividual who has once treated her advances with contempt, no matter how good-humoured such contempt may have been. No, misters, if you offend a feminine you must look out for her squalls.
Readers are humbly requested not to toss this fine story aside under the impression that they have exhausted the cream in its cocoanut. There are many many incidents to come of highly startling and sensational character.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE UNWIELDY GIFTHORSE
When dormant lightning is pent in the polished hoofs of a colt,And his neck is clothed with thunder,—then, horseman, beware of the bolt!From the Persian, by H. B. J.
When dormant lightning is pent in the polished hoofs of a colt,And his neck is clothed with thunder,—then, horseman, beware of the bolt!
From the Persian, by H. B. J.
IN accordance with English usages, Mr Bhosh, being now officially engaged to the fair Princess Jones, did dance daily attendance in her company, and, she being passionately fond of equitation, he was compelled himself to become the Centaur and act as hercavalier servanton a nag which was furnished throughout by a West End livery jobber. Fortunately, he displayed such marvellous dexterity and skill as an equestrian that he did not once sustain a single reverse!
Truly, it was a glorious and noble sight tobehold Bindabun clinging with imperturbable calmness to the saddle of his steed, as it ambled and gamboled in so spirited a manner that all the fashionables made sure that he was inevitably to slide over its tail quarters! But invariably he returned, having suffered no further inconvenience than the bereavement of his tall hat, and the heart of Princess Petunia was uplifted with pride when she saw that her betrothed, in addition to being a B.A. and barrister-at-law, was also such a rough rider.
It isde rigueurin all civilised societies to encourage matrimony by bestowing rewards upon those who are about to come up to the scratch of such holy estate, and consequently splendid gifts of carriage, timepieces, tea-caddies, slices of fish, jewels, blotter-cases, biscuit-caskets, cigar-lights, and pin-cushions were poured forth upon Mr Bhosh and his partner, as if from the inexhaustibly bountiful horn of a Pharmacopœia.
Last, but not least, one morning appearedasaiceleading an unwieldy steed of the complexion of a chestnut, and bearing an anonymously-signed paper, stating that said horse was a connubial gift to Mr Bhosh from a perfervid admirer.
Our friend Bindabun was like to throw his bonnet over the mills with excessive joy, and could not be persuaded to rest until he had made a trial trip on his gifted horse, while the amiable Princess readily consented to become his companion.
So, on a balmy and luscious afternoon in Spring, when the mellifluous blackbirds, sparrows, and other fowls of that ilk were engaged in billing and cooing on the foliage of innumerable trees and bushes, and the blooming flowers were blowing proudly on their polychromatic beds, Mr Bhosh made the ascension of his gift-horse, and titupped by the side of his betrothed into the Row, the observed of all the observing masculine and feminine smarties.
But, hoity-toity! he had not titupped verymany yards when the unwieldy steed came prematurely to a halt and adopted an unruly deportment. Mr Bhosh inflicted corporal punishment upon its loins with a golden-headed whip, at which the rebellious beast erected itself upon its hinder legs until it was practically a biped.
THE CANTANKEROUS STEED EXECUTED A LEAP WITH ASTOUNDING AGILITYTHE CANTANKEROUS STEED EXECUTED A LEAP WITH ASTOUNDING AGILITY
Bindabun, although at the extremity of his wits to preserve his saddle by his firm hold on the bridle-rein, undauntedly aimed a swishing blow at the head and front of the offending animal, which instantaneously returned its forelegs toterra firma, but elevated its latter end to such a degree that our hero very narrowly escaped sliding over its neck by cleverly clutching the saddleback.
Next, the cantankerous steed executed a leap with astounding agility, arching its back like a bow, and propelling our poor friend into the air like the arrow, though by providential luck and management on his part he descended safely into his seat after every repetition of this dangerous manœuvre.
All things, however, must come to an end at some time, and the unwieldy quadruped at last became weary of leaping and, securing the complete control of his bit, did a bolt from the blue.
Willy nilly was Mr Bhosh compelled to accompany it upon its mad, unbridled career, while all witnesses freely hazarded the conjecture that his abduction would be rather speedily terminated by his being left behind, and I will presume to maintain that a less practical horseman would long before have become an ordinary pedestrian.
But Bindabun, although both stirrupholes were untenanted, and he was compelled to hold on to his steed's mane by his teeth and nails, nevertheless remained triumphantly in the ascendant.
On, on he rushed, making the entire circumference of the Park in his wild, delirious canter, and when the galloping horse once more reappeared, and Mr Bhosh was perceived to be still snug on his saddle, thespectators were unable to refrain from heartfelt joy.
A second time the incorrigible courser careered round the Park on his thundering great hoofs, and still our heroic friend preserved his equilibrium—but, heigh-ho! I have to sorrowfully relate that, on his third circuit, it was the different pair of shoes—for the headstrong animal, abstaining from motion in a rather too abrupt manner, propelled Mr Bhosh over its head with excessive velocity into the elegant interior of a victoria-carriage.
He alighted upon a great dame who had maliciously been enjoying the spectacle of his predicament, but who now was forced to experience the crushing repartee of histu quoque, for such a forcible collision with his person caused her not only two blackened optics but irremediable damage to the leather of her nose.
The pristine beauty of her features was irrecoverably dismantled, while Mr Bhosh—thanks to his landing on such soft and yielding material—remained intact and able to return to his domicile in a fourwheeled cab.
Beloved reader, however sceptical thou mayest be, thou wilt infallibly admire with me the inscrutable workings of Nemesis, when thou learnest that the aforesaid great lady was no other than the Duchess of Dickinson, and (what is still more wonderful) that it was she who had insidiously presented him with such a fearful gift of the Danaides as an obstreperous and unwieldy steed!
Truly, as poet Shakespeare sagaciously observes, there is a divinity that rough-hews our ends, however we may endeavour to preserve their shapeliness!
A RIGHTABOUT FACER FOR MR BHOSH
Halloo! at a sudden your love warfare is changed!Your dress is changed! Your address is changed!Your express is changed! Your mistress is changed!Halloo! at a sudden your funny fair is changed!A song sung by Messengeress Binda before KrishnageeDr. Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong).
Halloo! at a sudden your love warfare is changed!Your dress is changed! Your address is changed!Your express is changed! Your mistress is changed!Halloo! at a sudden your funny fair is changed!
A song sung by Messengeress Binda before KrishnageeDr. Ram Kinoo Dutt (of Chittagong).
THOSE who areau faitsin the tortoise involutions of the feminine disposition will hear without astonishment that Duchess Dickinson—so far from being chastened and softened by the circumstance that the curse she had launched at Mr Bhosh's head had returned, like an illominous raven, to roost upon her own nose and irreparably destroy its contour—was only the more bitterly incensed against him.
Instead of interring the hatchet that had flown back, as if it were that fabulous volatile the boomerang, she was in a greater stew than ever, and resolved to leave no stone unturned to trip him up. But what trick to play, seeing that all the honours were in Mr Bhosh's hands?
She could not officiate as Marplot to discredit him in the affections of his ladylove, since the Princess was too severely enamoured to give the loan of her ear to any sibillations from a snake in grass.
How else, then, to hinder his match? At this she was seized with an idea worthy of Maccaroni himself. She paid a complimentary visit to the Princess, arrayed in the sheepish garb of a friend, and contrived to lure the conversation on to the vexed question of prying into futurity.
Surely, she artfully suggested, the Princess at such a momentous epoch of her existence had, of course, not neglected the sensible precaution of consulting some competent soothsayer respecting the most propitious dayfor her nuptials with the accomplished Mr Bhosh?...
What, had she omitted to pop so important a question? How incredibly harebrained! Fortunately, there was yet time to do the needful, and she herself would gladly volunteer to accompany the Princess on such an errand.
Princess Petunia fell a ready victim into the jaws of this diabolical booby-trap and inquired the address and name of the cleverest necromancer, for it is matter of notoriety that London ladies are quite as superstitious and addicted to working the oracle as their native Indian sisters.
The Duchess replied that the Astrologer-Royal was afacile princepsat uttering a prediction, and accordingly on the very next day she and the Princess, after disguising themselves, set forth on the summit of a tramway 'bus to the Observatory Temple of Greenwich, where, after first propitiating the prophet by offerings, they were ushered into adarkened inner chamber. Although they were strictlypseudo, he at once informed them of their genuine cognomens, and also told them much concerning their past of which they had hitherto been ignorant.
And to the Princess he said, stroking the long and silvery hairs of his beard, "My daughter, I foresee many calamities which will inevitably befall thee shouldest thou marry before the day on which the bridegroom wins a certain contest called the Derby with a horse of his own."
The gentle Petunia departed melancholy as a gib cat, since Mr Bhosh was not the happy possessor of so much as a single racing-horse of any description, and it was therefore not feasible that he should become entitled to wear thecordon bleuof the turf in his buttonhole on his wedding day!
With many sighs and tears she imparted her piece of news to the horror-stricken ears of our hero, who earnestly assured her that it was contrary to commonsense andbonos mores, toattach any importance to the mereipse dixitof so antiquated a charlatan as the Astrologer-Royal, who was utterly incapable—except at very long intervals—to bring about even such a simple affair as an eclipse which was visible from his own Observatory!
'MY DAUGHTER, I FORESEE MANY CALAMITIES WHICH WILL INEVITABLY BEFALL THEE''MY DAUGHTER, I FORESEE MANY CALAMITIES WHICH WILL INEVITABLY BEFALL THEE'
However, the Princess, being a feminine, was naturally more prone to puerile credulities, and very solemnly declared that nothing would induce her to kneel by Mr Bhosh's side at the torch of Hymen until he should first have distinguished himself as a Derby winner.
Whereat Mr Bhosh, perceiving that the date of his nuptial ceremony was become adies nonin a Grecian calendar, did wring his hands in a bath of tears.
Alas! he was totally unaware that it was his implacable enemy, the Duchess Dickinson, who had thus upset his apple-cart of felicity—but so it was, for by a clandestine bribe, she had corrupted the Astrologer-Royal—a poor, weak, very avaricious old chap—to trump out such a disastrous prediction.
Some heroes in this hard plight would have thrown up the leek, but Mr Bhosh was stuffed with sterner materials. He swore a very long oath by all the gods that he had ceased to believe in, that sooner or later, by crook or hook, he would win the Derby race, though entirely destitute of horseflesh and very ill able to afford to purchase the most mediocre quadruped.
Here some sporting readers will probably object! Why could he not enlist his unwieldy gifthorse among Derby candidates and so hoist the Duchess on the pinnacle of her own petard?
To which I reply: Too clever by halves, Misters!Imprimis, the steed in question was of far too ferocious a temperament (though undeniably swift-footed) ever to become a favourite with Derby judges; secondly, after dismounting Mr Bhosh, it had again taken to its heels and departed into the Unknown, nor had Mr Bhosh troubled himself to ascertain its private address.
But fortune favours the brave. It happened that Mr Bhosh was one day promenading down the Bayswater Road when he was passed by a white horse drawing a milk chariot with unparalleled velocity, outstripping omnibuses, waggons, and even butcher-carts in its wind-like progress, which was unguided by any restraining hand, for the milk-charioteer himself was pursuing on foot.
His natural puissance in equine affairs enabled Mr Bhosh to infer that the steed which could cut such a record when handicapped with a cumbrous dairy chariot would exhibit even greater speed if inpuris naturalibus, and that it might even not improbably carry off first prize in the Derby race.
So, as the milk-charioteer ran up, overblown with anxiety, to learn the result of his horse's escapade, Mr Bhosh stopped him to inquire what he would take for such an animal.
The dairy-vendor, rather foolishly taking it for granted that horse and cart were gone concerns, thought he was making the goodstroke of business in offering the lot for a twenty-pound note.
"I have done with you!" cried Mr Bhosh sharply, handing over the purchase-money, which he very fortunately chanced to have about him, and galloping off to inspect his bargain, which was like buying a pig after once poking it in the ribs.
In what condition he found it I must leave you to learn, my dear readers, in an ensuing chapter.
THE DARK HORSE
Full many a mare with coat of milkiest sheen,Is dyed in dark unfathomed coal mines drab;Full many a flyer's born to blush unseen,And waste her swiftness on a hansom cab.Lines to order by a young English friend, who swears they are original. But I regard them as an unconscious plagiarism from Poet Young's "Eulogy of a Country Cemetery." H. B. J.It is a gain, a precious, let me gain! let me gain!Oh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!The shower of thine secret shoe-dustOh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!Dr. Ram Kinoo Dutt(of Chittagong).
Full many a mare with coat of milkiest sheen,Is dyed in dark unfathomed coal mines drab;Full many a flyer's born to blush unseen,And waste her swiftness on a hansom cab.
Lines to order by a young English friend, who swears they are original. But I regard them as an unconscious plagiarism from Poet Young's "Eulogy of a Country Cemetery." H. B. J.
It is a gain, a precious, let me gain! let me gain!Oh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!The shower of thine secret shoe-dustOh, Potentate! Oh, Potentate!
Dr. Ram Kinoo Dutt(of Chittagong).
WE left Mr Bhosh in full pursuit of the runaway horse and milk-chariot which he had so spiritedly purchased while stillen route. After running a mile or two, he was unspeakably rejoiced to find that the equipage had automatically come to a standstilland was still in prime condition—with the exception of the lacteal fluid, which had made its escape from the pails.
Bindabun, however, was not disposed to weep for long over spilt milk, and had the excessive magnanimity to restore the chariot and pails to the dairy merchant, who was beside himself with gratitude.
Then, Mr Bhosh, with a joyful heart, having detached his purchase from the shafts, conducted it in triumph to his domicile. It turned out to be a mare, white as snow and of marvellous amiability; and, partly because of her origin, and partly from her complexion, he christened her by the appellation ofMilky Way.
Although perforce a complete ignoramus in the art of educating a horse to win any equine contest, Mr Bhosh's nude commonsense told him that the first step was to fatten his rather too filamentous pupil with corn and similar seeds, and after a prolonged course of beanfeasts he had the gratificationto behold his mare filling out as plump as a dumpling.
As he desired her to remain the dark horse as long as possible, he concealed her in a small toolshed at the end of the garden, ministering to her wants with his own hands, and conducting her for daily nocturnal constitutionals several times round the central grass-patch.
For some time he refrained from mounting—"fain would he climb but that he feared to fall," as Poet Bunyan once scratched with a diamond on Queen Anne's window; but at length, reflecting that if nothing ventures nothing is certain to win, he purchased a padded saddle with appendages, and surmountedMilky Way, who, far from regarding him as an interloper, appeared gratified by his arrival, and did her utmost to make him feel thoroughly at home.
The next step was, of course, to obtain permission from the pundits who rule the roast of the Jockey Club, thatMilky Waymight be allowed to compete in the approaching Derby.
Now this was a more delicately ticklish matter than might be supposed, owing to the circumstance that the said pundits are such warm men, and so well endowed with this world's riches that they are practically non-corruptible.
Fortunately, Mr Bhosh, as a dabster in English composition, was a pastmaster in drawing a petition, and, sitting down, he constructed the following:—
To Those Most Worshipful Bigheads In control of Jockeys Club.
Benign Personages!
This Petition humbly sheweth:
And your Petitioner will ever pray on bended knees that so truly magnificent an institution as the Epsom Derby Course may never be suppressed on grounds of encouraging national vice of gambling and so forth. Signed, &c.
The wording of the above proved Mr Bhosh's profound acquaintance with the human heart, for it instantaneously attained the desired end.
The Honble Stewards returned a very kindanswer, readily consenting to receiveMilky Wayas a candidate for Derby honours, but regretting that it wasultra viresto concede her a few minutes' start, and intimating that she must start with a scratch in company with all the other horses.
Bindabun was not in the least degree cast down or depressed by this refusal of a start, since he had not entertained any sanguine hope that it would be granted, and had only inserted it to make insurance doubly sure, for he was every day more confident thatMilky Waywas to win, even though obliged to step off with the rank and file.
TRUST HER NOT! SHE IS FOOLING THEE!
As the Sunset flames most fiery when snuffed out by sudden night;As the Swan reserves its twitter till about to hop the twig;As the Cobra's head swells biggest just before he does his bite;So a feminine smiles her sweetest ere she gives her nastiest dig.Satirical Stanza (unpublished) by H. B. J.
As the Sunset flames most fiery when snuffed out by sudden night;As the Swan reserves its twitter till about to hop the twig;As the Cobra's head swells biggest just before he does his bite;So a feminine smiles her sweetest ere she gives her nastiest dig.
Satirical Stanza (unpublished) by H. B. J.
Now that our hero had obtained that the name ofMilky Waywas to be inscribed on the Golden Book of Derby candidates, his next proceeding was to hire a practical jockey to assume supreme command of her.
And this was no simple matter, since practical jockeys are usually hired many weeks beforehand, and demand handsome wages for taking their seats. But at last, after protracted advertisements, Mr Bhosh had the good fortune to pitch upon a perfect treasure,whose name was Cadwallader Perkin, and who, for his riding in some race or other, had been awarded a whole year's holiday by the stewards who had observed the paramountcy of his horsemanship.
No sooner had Perkin inspectedMilky Waythan he was quite in love with his stable companion, and assured his employer that, with more regular out-of-door exercise, she would be easily competent to win the Derby on her head, whereupon Mr Bhosh consented that she should be galloped after dark round the inner circle of Regent's Park, which is chiefly populated at such a time by male and female bicyclists.
But in order to pay Perkins charges, and also provide a silken jockey tunic and cap of his own racing colours (which were cream and sky-blue), Mr Bhosh was compelled to borrow more money from Mr McAlpine, who, as a Jewish Scotch, exacted the rather exorbitant interest of sixty per centum.
It leaked out in some manner thatMilkyWaywas a coming Derby favourite, and the property of a Native young Indian sportsman, whose entire fortunes depended on her success, and soon immense multitudes congregated in Regent's Park to witness her trials of speed, and cheered enthusiastically to behold the fiery sparks scintillating from the stones as she circumvented the inner circle in seven-leagued boots.
Mr Bhosh of course asseverated that she was a very mediocre sort of mare, and that he did not at all expect that she would prove a winner, but connoisseurs nevertheless betted long odds upon her success, and Bindabun himself, though not a speculative, did put on the pot himself upon the golden egg which he was so anxiously hatching.
One evening amongst those who were gathered to view the nocturnal exercises ofMilky Waythere appeared a feminine spectator of rather sinister aspect, in a thick veil and a victoria-carriage.
It was no other than Duchess Dickinson,who had somehow learnt how courageously Mr Bhosh was endeavouring to fulfil the Astrologer-Royal's prediction, and who had come to ascertain whether his mare was indeed such a paragon of celerity as had been represented.
The very first time thatMilky Waycantered past with the gait of a streak of lightning, the Duchess realised with a sinking heart that Mr Bhosh must indubitably succeed at the Derby—unless he was prevented.
But how to achieve this? Her womanly instinct told her that Cadwallader Perkin was far too inexperienced to resist for long such mature and ripened charms as hers—even though the latter were unfortunately discounted by the accidental nose-flattening.
So, lowering her veil till only her eyes were visible above, she waited till he passed once more, then flung him such a liquid and flashing glance from her starry and now no longer discoloured optics that the young jockey, who was of an excessively susceptible disposition,all but fell off the saddle with emotion, like a very juvenile bird under serpentine observation.
"He is mine!" said the unscrupulous Duchess internally, laughing up her sleeve at such a proof of her fascinations, "mine! mine!"
She had too much intelligence and mother-wit, however, to take any steps until Mr Bhosh should be safely out of the way—and how to accomplish his removal?
As an acquaintance with the above-mentioned usurer, McAlpine, she was aware that he had advanced large loans to Mr Bhosh, and so she laid her plans and bided her time.
There soon remained only one day before that carnival of all sporting saturnalians, the Epsom Derby day, and Bindabun formed the prudent resolution to avoid any delays or crushings by puttingMilky Wayinto a railway box, and despatching her to Epsom on the previous afternoon, under the chaperonage of Cadwallader Perkin, who was to engage suitable lodgings for her in the vicinity of the course.
But just as Bindabun was approaching the booking hole of Victoria terminus to take a horse-ticket, lo and behold! he was rapped on the shoulder by a couple of policemen, who civilly inquired whether his name was not Bhosh.
He replied that it was, and that he was the lucky proprietor of a female horse who was infallibly destined to win the Derby, and that he was even now proceeding to purchase her travelling ticket. But the policemen insisted that he must first discharge the full amount of his debt and costs to Mr McAlpine, who had commenced a law-suit.
"It is highly inconvenient to pay now," replied our hero, "I will settle up after receiving my Derby Stakes."
"We are infernally sorry," said the constables, "but we have instructions to imprison you until the amount is stumped up, and anything you say now will be taken down and used against you at your trial."
Mr Bhosh remainedsotto voce; and as hewas being led off with gyves upon his wrists, like Aram the usher, whom should he behold but the Duchess of Dickinson!
Like all truly first-class heroes, he was of a generous, confiding nature, and his head was not for a moment entered by the suspicion that the Duchess could still cherish any ill feelings towards him. "I am sincerely sorry," he said with good-humoured gallantry, "to observe that your ladyship's nose-leather is still in such bad repair. I was riding a rather muscular steed that afternoon, and could not thoroughly control my movements."
She suavely responded that she was proud to have been the means of breaking his fall.
"Not only my fall—but your own nose!" retorted Mr. Bhosh sympathetically. "A sad pity! Fortunately, at your time of life such disfigurements are of no consequence. I, myself, am now in the pretty pickle."
And he explained how he had been arrested for debt, at the very moment when he had anappointment to meet his mare and jockey and see them safely off by the Epsom train.
"Do not trouble about that," said the Duchess. "Hand me your purse, and I myself will meet them and do the needful on your behalf. I have interest with this Mr McAlpine and will intercede that you are let out immediately."
Mr Bhosh kissed her hand as he handed over his said purse. "This is, indeed, a noble return for my coldheartedness," he said, "and I am even more sorry than before that I should have involuntarily dilapidated so exquisite a nose."
"Pray do not mention it," replied the Duchess, with the baleful simper of a Sphynx, and Mr Bhosh departed for his durance vile with a mind totally free from misgivings.
STONE WALLS DO NOT MAKE A CAGE