A Bayard From Bengal. Being some account of the Magnificent and Spanking Career of Chunder Bindabun Bhosh…

Whereat Mr Bhosh, perceiving that the date of his nuptial ceremony was become a dies non in 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 in puris 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 good stroke 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 IX

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-dust
Oh, 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 still en route. After running a mile or two, he was unspeakably rejoiced to find that the equipage had automatically come to a standstill and 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 of Milky 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 gratification to 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 surmounted Milky 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, that Milky Way might 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:

1. That your Petitioner is a native Indian Cambridge B.A., a Barrister-at-law, and a most loyal and devoted subject of Her Majesty the Queen-Empress.

2. That it is of excessive importance to him, for private reasons, that he should win a Derby Race.

3. That such a famous victory would be eminently popular with all classes of Indian natives, and inordinately increase their affection for British rule.

4. That for some time past your Petitioner has been diligently training a quadruped which he fondly hopes may gain a victory.

5. That said quadruped is a member of the fair sex.

6. 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.

7. That your lordships may direct that she is to be kindly permitted to try her luck in this world-famous competition.

8. That it would greatly encourage her to exhibit topmost speed if she could be allowed to start running a few minutes previously to older stagers.

9. 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 is Milky 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 kind answer, readily consenting to receive Milky Way as a candidate for Derby honours, but regretting that it was ultra vires to 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 that Milky Way was to win, even though obliged to step off with the rank and file.

CHAPTER X

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.

Now that our hero had obtained that the name of Milky Way was 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.