The Autumn Race Meeting at Meerut saw Prospero win the Merchants’ Purse, value 1,000 rupees, for Lord William, Ryder up; also the St. Leger, value 1,500 rupees, with Tim Whiffler. The same month (October) FitzWilliam won the Steward’s Purse at Lucknow, 2,110 rupees, the Pony Derby, 2,410 rupees, with Little Nell, all ridden by Dunn. I have heard the winner of the Pony Derby called “Little Hell,” partly from affection and partly because she gave others so little chance, I presume! I have always been under the impression that there is more money to be made out of ponies and pony racing than in Viceroy’s cups. In India a man who is a good judge of horse-flesh and knows their points can often pick up ponies fairly cheaply in the serais, sort of village cattle-market, where dealers are to be found with horses and ponies for sale. Then if the purchaser has good hands and good temper, he may be able to train some into good polo ponies, and possibly win a race or two in a small way, after which good prices may be realised, though some of the ponies bought in the rough, have a tiresome way of growing after having reached the required height, skilful shoeing is then the best chance to make them register the proper standard. If after this they still persist in being too big they can be sold as ladies’ hacks, if a woman has ridden them once. Many poor men have been able to enjoy their lives and have all they wanted in reason, thanks to their training and selling ponies they have bought with an eye to business. I am speaking of some years ago, possibly ponies and prices are different now. The Simla season ends in October, and the gaiety and festivities are carried on at Calcutta on a more pronounced scale though with less of the family party feeling, owing to the larger community. The poor big-wigs do not have much peace in either place, it is so difficult to escape from people, who, though doubtless are many of them charming in themselves, the amount of bowing and scraping they entail is fatiguing. One Commander-in-Chief I knew simplified matters by riding along looking straight ahead and seeing nobody, taking no more notice of the crowd of amiable people waiting to bow and smile than if they were so many little dogs wagging their tails. At first this gave offence, which did not greatly upset the good man’s calm, but before long it was recognised as a mercy and something to be thankful for. Lord William’s coach was quite a feature in Calcutta Society, the turn-out was smart, the driver cheery, and a good whip, small wonder that most people liked to receive an invitation to accompany his lordship on some of his jaunts. I have sat beside some pretty whips one time and another in my life, far and away the most accomplished being Lord William Beresford; next to him a good second was the late Mr. Ben Cotton, for some time Master of the Isle of Wight Foxhounds.