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.