The Bath Road climbs, with some show of steepness, out of Reading, presently to enter upon that stretch of nearly seventeen miles of comparatively flat sandy gravel road which, for speed cycling, is the best part of the whole journey. The surface is nearly always splendid, save in very dry seasons, when the sand renders the going somewhat heavy, and the cyclist may well be surprised to learn that it was here, between Reading and Newbury, that Pepys and his wife, travelling in their own coach, lost their way, entirely through the badness of the roads. [Illustration: THE STAGE WAGGON. (_After Rowlandson._)] [Sidenote: _THE "BERKSHIRE LADY"_] In spite of these modern advantages, the road is quite suburban and uninteresting until Calcot Green is passed, in two miles and a half. But it is here, amid the pleasant, though tame, scenery that Calcot Park, the home of the famous "Berkshire Lady," may be sought. The "Berkshire Lady" was the daughter of Sir William Kendrick, of Calcot, who flourished in the reign of Queen Anne. Upon the death of her father, she became sole heiress to the estate and an income of some five thousand pounds per annum. Rich, beautiful, and endowed with a vivacious manner, it is not surprising that she was courted by all the vinous, red-faced young squires in the neighbourhood; but she refused these offers until, according to an old ballad-- "Being at a noble wedding In the famous town of Reading, A young gentleman she saw Who belonged to the law." We may shrewdly suspect that she not only "saw" him, but that they indulged in a desperate flirtation in the conservatory, or what may have answered to a conservatory in those times. The "Berkshire Lady" was evidently a New Woman, born very much in advance of her proper era. For what did she do? Why, she fell in love with that "young gentleman" straight away, and so furiously that nothing would suffice her but to send him an anonymous challenge to fight a duel or to marry her. Benjamin Child--for that was the name of the young and briefless (and also impecunious) barrister--was astonished at receiving a challenge from no one in particular; but, accompanied by a friend, proceeded to the rendezvous appointed by the unknown in Calcot Park. Arrived there, they perceived a masked lady, with a rapier, who informed the pair that she was the challenger:-- "'It was I that did invite you: You shall wed me, or I'll fight you, So now take your choice,' said she; 'Either fight, or marry me.' Says he, 'Madam, pray what mean ye? In my life I ne'er have seen ye; Pray unmask, your visage show, Then I'll tell you, aye or no.'" The lady, however, would not unmask:-- "'I will not my face uncover, Till the marriage rites are over; Therefore take you which you will, Wed me, sir, or try your skill.'"