CHAPTER VI. 

 The Ladies' Cup. 



*' Now I wish I were the bridle in the fingers of my idol, 



" Now I wish I were the bonny steed that bore her through the run !" 



Whyte Melville. 



We think our readers will agree with us that we have 

 now arrived at the real "rasper" of this adventurous 

 journey, and that we may be forgiven if we confess to a 

 feeling of something approaching nervousness and trepid- 

 ation as we take a fresh pen and give it a preliminary 

 drink of ink, hoping the while that this will not, as is the 

 case with race-horses when given a bucket of water 

 before a race, cause it to stop half way and flounder hope- 

 lessly ! A great — we might almost say the greatest — 

 authority upon horses and ladies — Mr. John Jorrocks — 

 has said that there is nothing so uncertain as scent 

 '^'cept a woman " — he has also ungallantly expressed the 

 opinion that " wimmen are werry weary warmints !" 

 Although we may find it possible to subscribe to the first 

 of these two quoted opinions, we do not go so far as to 

 entirely endorse the second ! We pride ourselves that 

 in Calcutta, at any rate, the age of chivalry has not 

 passed, whatever it may have done in Handley Cross ! 

 It will, however, be readily understood that with the 

 opinion of such a connoisseur before us we feel that a 

 heavy weight of responsibility rests upon us in attempting 

 to do justice to the matter in hand in this present 

 chapter : if we say too much, we may offend : if we say 



