In the early summer of 1888 my husband and I found ourselves enjoying a well-earned holiday in Japan. He, I may explain, writes books about horses, which have rendered his name widely known among English readers; and having a special talent for making these animals conform to his wishes, he conceived the idea of going on a tour, with the object of teaching all he knew about “breaking” to those interested in the subject. In England, horses, as a rule, are so well “made” that the equine instructor finds much difficulty in illustrating his lessons. But abroad the case is very different. In India he had, during the year he was there, hundreds of buck-jumpers, man-eaters, jibbers, and other refractory creatures, the subjugation of which gained him great credit, as well as a goodly sum of money. Even in China, from which we had just come, there were plenty of examples among the sturdy Mongolian ponies to test his skill and patience. When a horse or pony, which previously would not allow anyone to mount him, was reduced to obedience in an hour or two, a side-saddle was usually put on him, and then I mounted him, took up the reins, put him through his paces, and jumped him over some improvised fences. Although our work “caught on” wherever we went, it proved somewhat monotonous, and I longed for a settled home after this continued round of hotel and steamer life. My husband wanted to go to California, and then on to New York, while I suggested India, where I had spent a pleasant time in the indulgence of my then hobby--theatricals. In those days I looked upon my dear old teachers--Mr. Hermann Vezin, Mr. John MacLean, and Miss Glyn Dallas--as the greatest of man and womankind, and thought more of a favourable notice in some obscure local print of my acting, than of the praise in the _Field_ and _Graphic_ accorded to my riding, when my husband gave a performance at Neasden, near London, in aid of the funds for the “Home of Rest for Horses.” Knowing what a charm novelty had for my husband, and wishing to get back to India, I suggested the advisability of his going to Calcutta and starting there a sporting paper, which, with his name as editor, would be sure to draw! My counsel proved so acceptable that I had only barely time to pack up my boxes and get them on board the French mail, for which my husband had taken tickets. We arrived at Calcutta, started our paper, and, in a short time, settled down to our work as journalists. This came easy to my husband, as he had been connected with the press for many years, and not very difficult to me, as I was deeply interested in the success of our venture, and had been accustomed, during my travels, to write articles for various papers. My _rôle_ on our _Sporting News_ was that of dramatic and musical critic, as well as that of describing events of passing interest, with a certain dash of sporting flavour, from a lady’s point of view. The habit of observation which was forced on me