Lord William Beresford, V.C., Some Memories of a Famous Sportsman, Soldier and WitMenzies, Stuart, Mrs.
History
Lord William Beresford, V.C., Some Memories of a Famous Sportsman, Soldier and Wit
Menzies, Stuart, Mrs.
Beresford, William Leslie de la Poer, Lord, 1847-1900
Snuff ” Dr. Hart 900
One or two of the best were bought by Mr. Hard for one or other
of the partners of the Confederacy, Reputation and Little Charlie
amongst them. Bassanio, the Australian, who fetched 5,700 rupees, was
bought back in March by Lord William. The Government bought several
for the Stud Department, and a little later purchased good old Jack
from Dr. Hart and sent him as a present to the Amir of Kabul for stud
purposes. Prospero was back again in the stable, and a week or two
before Lord William started for home won the Grand Annual at Meerut,
also the Hurdle Race, and Dynamite a handicap of sorts.
In April Lord Bill started for home. India felt lonely when he had
gone, especially amongst some of his fair friends. With women absence
often makes the heart grow fonder, but with men it is proximity that
plays the mischief, and Lord William I am afraid forgot to be sad
over the partings, for he found so many more fair friends in the Old
Country anxious to greet him and be kind.
There was no doubt about it he was beginning to age, to realise how
quickly we drop into middle age. It all comes about so imperceptibly,
perhaps a few grey hairs first awaken us to the change, it suddenly
dawns upon us, time is not standing still, that we have reached the
top of the hill that looked so long and unending, and now behold we
are slipping down the other side, and where are all the lovely views
we expected to find on reaching the top of the hill? Surely they must
have been mirage! It is a curious fact that you may look at yourself
in the glass many times a day but until something happens to force
the fact of a change on you the only image you behold in the mirror
is yourself in _youth_. Even after elasticity has left us, it still
does not dawn upon us we are--of the past. Perhaps nothing brings it
home to us more quickly than meeting some friend of our youth and
finding he has grown ponderous, lost the sparkle, hair grown grey,
eyes dim, and possibly a corporation, this makes us turn an anxious
eye on ourselves to see if similar changes have taken place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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