CHAPTER VII

EARLY RACING EXPERIENCES

First Racing Partnership--Some Successful Horses--The “White Mutiny”--Military Secretaries Come and Go--Fleur-de-lys’ Affection--Racing--Paperchasing--An Exciting Drive--Ponto’s Admiration for the Fair Sex--Inverarm--How a Sick Soldier Fared--Love of Children--A Children’s Party and How it Ended--The Home for Lost Dogs--Simla Gymkhanas--A Sore Head--A Change of Mounts--Sipi Fair and Marriage Market--What Some of Lord William’s Friends Said--Why he was like King Solomon

Early in 1880 Lord William and his friend, Mr. Monty Stewart, joined hands, forming a racing partnership, and their horse Warrego won the St. Leger at the Umballa meeting. They had also purchased Kate Coventry for 5000 rupees, a big sum for those days. She won the Grand Annual the very next day for them, which was encouraging. At the same meeting Gazelle won the Pony Handicap, Warrego the Trials, and Oliver Twist the Selling Race. On the last day’s racing Oliver Twist rather upset the public’s and everybody else’s calculations by defeating his own stable companion Warrego, who was favourite.

At Lahore Kate Coventry won the Maiden Chase, Pompey the Dwarf Chase, Lielle the Arab and Country-bred Handicap, Ronaleyn the All-horse Handicap, and Potboy the Pony Handicap, not a bad performance. Lord William now engaged Ryder as his trainer and jockey; he had been successful for Baboo Mohini Mohun Doss of Dacca.

At Dumdum Kate Coventry won the Handicap Chase as well as another race. After this, luck seemed to desert the combined stable, though Kate Coventry still played up nobly, winning the Ballygunge Cup, and Lawyer the Trial Chase Cup. At Deccan, Pot Boy and Lawyer also won a race or two.

Then came the Umballa Autumn Meeting, where their luck was so crushing Lord William vowed he would get rid of the lot of his horses, and advertised the majority for sale. He may have deceived himself through disappointment, but nobody else thought for a moment he would be able to live without racing, in taking which view they were correct, for in July, 1881, he purchased Camballa and Western Princess through the dealer and importer known by the name of Teddy Weekes. Luck seemed once more to be returning, for at the October meeting at Dehra Fleur-de-Lys won over the hurdles, Kate Coventry the Himalayan Chase, and Warrego the Corinthian Stakes, while Probably, a country-bred pony, showed the way in the Gimcrack Stakes. Again at Umballa the good Kate Coventry, Fleur-de-Lys and Probably also each won a race.

Lord William was now recognised as a rising racing man, and as one come to stay. He began to do great things when the Government moved down to Calcutta for the cold weather of 1881-2. His new purchase Camballa, a black Waler gelding, began well by winning the Viceroy’s Cup, steered by Ryder. I see in an old paper of that time “the unpopular Governor-General was not present to see his cup run for.”

It will be remembered I have already pointed out the reason of Lord Ripon’s unpopularity with his own countrymen, though never was a Viceroy so loved by the natives, into whose hands he played all the time, no doubt thinking it would lead to future good, but causing at the time dread and consternation amongst Europeans. Whether his scheme of equalisation between the races has been a success or not I leave to my readers to decide, though perhaps it is still early days to say definitely one way or the other. Certainly, if we may judge by the way India has assisted us in our present struggle, we should feel inclined to think it had, but it is necessary to look a little beyond our noses, and think what may be expected in return--the _quid pro quo_.

I do not suppose Lord Ripon troubled much as to whether he was popular or not, he was there to do the best for the country and its people, according to his light, after that it must be left in the lap of the gods. The public opinion I have heard expressed of the Viceroys during the time Lord William was on the staff ran as follows--that Lord Lytton was charming, hard-working, and that his work would live long after him; Lord Ripon unpopular, as it was thought he would make life impossible for the white man in the country owing to his enormous sympathy with the natives; Lord Dufferin, popular but left a great deal in the hands of his private secretary; Lord Lansdowne, universally popular, and Lady Lansdowne especially so. These being the only Governor-Generals under whom Lord William served I need go no further. He spoke of them all with affection and gratitude, saying he had received “the greatest kindness from all officially and individually.” I must confess when he said this I felt much as I do when parents say they love all their children alike, which cannot be in the least true; they may love them all, but it must be in different ways and degrees, so I think Lord William felt, if he had spoken literally, he had affection for all his chiefs but in different ways and degrees.

Even Viceroys have a good deal to “put up with.” First and foremost they have to act on orders from home, after which, if the measures do not prove successful or satisfactory, the blame of course falls on the Viceroy’s head; then when settling down and getting into his stride, finding help and comfort in some of his staff--say the Military Secretary, that office bringing the individual more closely into association with him than the rest, forming an important part of his daily life--it has not been unknown for one Military Secretary after another to find that their health will not stand the strain, or that they wish to return to their regiment, another has married a wife who will not live in India and so on, so resignation follows on resignation, leaving the unhappy Viceroy in a constant state of explanations and instructions to new-comers, and with nobody to lean on, while possibly feeling anxious over work of which he has had no previous experience and hardly knows where to turn to find someone who does. Occasionally, perhaps, Viceroy and members of the staff find “incompatibility” a reason for divorce.

The cold weather of 1881-2 proved to the Beresford-Stewart partners that they had a good thing in their new purchase Camballa, besides winning the Viceroy’s Cup, he also won the Burdwarn Cup. Many people speculated as to this horse’s lasting powers, as he stood rather straight on his pasterns, and in India the ground is very hard. However, he did all that was required of him, caused no disappointment, and then was sold again at no loss, so was not a bad bargain. Lord William also won a race himself on Alien; his pretty little Australian mare Fleur-de-Lys, which he had bought from Mr. Abbott, the Tirhoot planter, also won the Tom Thumb Stakes for him. This little mare was charming as well as pretty, and as intelligent as a dog. She had a great affection for her syce, who had been her close companion from the time she arrived in India, and her owner used to give his friends little exhibitions of her affection at times. He would hide the syce somewhere, and then let Fleur-de-Lys loose out of her stable, telling the man to call her, while he kept dodging about hiding from her, but she always found him in spite of all the dodging, whinnying with pleasure when she came up to him. If anyone caught hold of the syce and pretended to beat him and he howled, the mare would go straight for whoever it was she supposed was hurting her friend and companion, would savage and trample on the offender if she could get at him. So great was her affection for her syce that it was unnecessary when moving about the country to put a bit into her mouth, for she would follow him anywhere. She was eventually sold amongst others to the Prince of Jodhpore, where she would be well cared for.

Warrego was now the property of the Beresford-Stewart stable, and won the two mile Durbangah Cup for them. Camballa beat several good horses for the Merchants’ Cup, proving himself _the_ horse of the year.

At the end of the cold weather 1881-2 Mr. Stewart was obliged to leave India and go home owing to ill-health.

Kate Coventry was still going strong and doing wonders, winning the Ballygunge Cup, and again later in the year the Grand Annual, at Lucknow, Ryder in the saddle. After this meeting Ryder was sent to England to buy some horses for Lord William.

The Autumn Meeting at Dehra Doon was very poor, the unsatisfactory settling after their last meeting had made people a little shy, many declaring it was not worth while running their horses under the circumstances; another reason, I think, being the course was not in very good order, but none of these things troubled Lord William, though now I come to think of it he certainly rode other people’s horses, and did not run any of his own, as far as I can remember.

The Umballa Autumn Meeting was not a great success either, owing to much the same reason. The rules regarding betting were a trifle lax, but Ryder, who had returned from England, rode an Australian horse named Blackthorn for Lord William, winning the Sirhind Derby, also several other races; but Island King, a horse Ryder had brought back with him, had a terrible fall when running for the Cup, and had to be put out of his pain.

Paperchases were much in vogue in India during the cold weather. In Calcutta they were very popular, large fields collecting, but eventually they became little short of steeplechases. A number of women used to ride in them, and go right well, but so many who joined in the chase were given to racing it became a little dangerous, as will be readily grasped by anyone who has been closely followed either in the hunting field or in a paper-chase by a racing man, who may, and at times does, forget all about waiting his turn at a fence, and just pushes and rushes wherever he sees a chance, quite regardless of consequences. What matter whose face they trample on so long as they get there!

There were some great chase riders in those days, Captain David Papillon, Colonel Oliver Probyn, with his one arm, Lord William Beresford, and that good sort Mr. Sydney Hartwell of the Oude and Roulicund Railway. What nerve that man had! I remember a wonderful grey roan pony he drove, with a knee as big as an apple dumpling, the result of one of his many accidents, arising from the fact that he was almost impossible to hold. I doubt if many people would have cared to drive the gee. Mr. Hartwell was a strong man, yet it took him all his time to hold this handsome quadruped. He was like a miniature carthorse, and exceedingly fast. An extra pair of reins were always buckled on to the bit and rested under a clip on the dashboard in case of the first lot giving way under the strain. The traces generally dangled loose, the whole cart and contents, no matter what weight, being pulled from the bit and reins.

Several times I was asked if I would like to risk my life behind this steed, and gladly consented, as Mr. Hartwell was a first-rate whip and most cheery companion. It was arranged during one of these drives that we should meet Lord William on the Lucknow Racecourse to see a pony he thought would suit me, put over the jumps. We arrived safely at the appointed spot, Mr. Hartwell put me down and took the pony and cart a little distance away to wait until we were ready, the pony raising no objection to standing. After the matter of trying the pony Lord William thought would suit me, it was agreed that both Mr. Hartwell and Lord Bill should come back and refresh at our bungalow, his lordship said he would jump up behind us on the cart; he received the same instructions as myself, namely, to nip in quick, the moment our Jehu took hold of the reins; this was safely accomplished by both of us, and off we shot like a rocket. The syce in his anxiety to give the place of honour behind to Lord Bill, did not leave himself quite enough foothold, and was shot off at the first rear and bound given by the pony, given just to express pleasure at being on the move again. Mr. Hartwell was the only person or thing in the cart retaining a firm and upright position, Lord William was heard to say “By Jove,” I was speechless shuffling back into my seat trying to look as if I had never left it, the syce I heard later was last seen tearing frantically in rear of the cart, after falling flat on his face and losing his puggery, which was flying out in yards and streams behind him as he ran trying to re-wind it round his head. I was too busy holding on to turn my head to see what had happened to anybody.

After this preliminary all went well, as we proceeded to drive round the course to have a look at the pony jumps, the grey roan flinging himself along delightfully though keeping us in a state of expectancy, when my lord and master, who had been on duty and delayed, therefore not able to be present at the trial of the new pony, came galloping up in hot haste to overtake us. This was the signal evidently to the roan that a race was on, it was really thrilling, and instead of going straight home as we had intended after inspecting the jumps, we were raced round the racecourse at top speed about three-quarters of the way, then on one wheel were hurruished down an awkward dip and carried like birds through the Barrack Square, then on through a mango tope, where Lord William disappeared. Various people who saw us _en route_ were pleased to be funny about our appearance, and one or two sketches were made, in one of which Lord William was supposed to be holding me on to the seat, but looked much more as if trying to sit on my head.

I regret much that in the course of my travels a book full of such souvenirs has unaccountably disappeared. Eventually Mr. Hartwell got the pony in hand, and thanks to his brilliant driving I was landed at our bungalow to find Lord William and my spouse complacently refreshing themselves in the verandah. Lord William said he and a bucket, which appeared from under the seat somewhere, were tipped out under the mango trees while we were being carried over what looked like a newly filled-in grave.

Mr. Alfred Abbott was another great chase rider; he was seldom seen without a cigar in his mouth, and died with one between his teeth on the Barrackpore Racecourse; and many more old friends of Lord William and mine, in fact it would be easy to fill many books with the doings of old friends of that period.

Young and old took part in these paper-chases, Sir George White with grey hairs when Commander-in-Chief, and youths with growing down on their upper lip. One very noticeable thing about people in India is the way they keep young in spite of their years, taking part and interest in all that is going on, old ladies and gentlemen dance until the early hours with the best of the young ones, ride races, play tennis and racquets, in fact everything that is going.

One year Lord William offered a prize for a Ladies’ Steeplechase over the Calcutta Racecourse. There were many competitors, some coming from a distance to show what they could do.

When Lord William presented the prize of a beautiful silver inkstand to the winner, who happened to be a Mrs. Somebody he did not know, he expressed the hope that she would find it useful and persuade her to write long letters to her husband. This was unfortunate, as the lady and her husband had agreed to part. It was a most unusual thing for Lord Bill to make a _faux pas_.

The Simla Season of 1882 passed much in the usual way, a round of social gatherings and festivities. One character I must not fail to introduce to you, namely, Ponto, Lord William’s poodle; he appears in many photographs, and so he ought, being quite a personage; he lived with his master after he became Military Secretary in quite a palatial house called “Inverarm,” standing on the hill, not far from the Viceregal Lodge.

Ponto and his master were inseparable; there were times of course when he was not wanted which he failed to realise or appreciate, and in spite of the efforts of those who had instructions to keep him at home, searched Simla until he located his master, sitting proudly outside the door until he put in an appearance. Once Lord William left the house he was visiting by a different route, and Ponto sat on far into another day, when he was remonstrated with by the inhabitant of the bungalow at whose door he sat.

On another occasion Ponto broke away from custody and turned up in church at Simla during a marriage service; the church was very full, but Ponto managed to squeeze his way through amongst the multitude of legs, and gave a brisk “Wuff” of delighted greeting when he located his master. This affection at times was embarrassing, but as he meant it all in good part his master was obliged to accept it in the same spirit, while vowing he would find some other means of keeping Ponto at home. Both the latter and his master had many things in common, both admired beauty; if Lord William was sitting at luncheon and said in the usual conversational voice, “There goes a pretty girl,” Ponto would be up and off in a moment, on to a chair to gaze right and left out of the window, or to the door, to look out for the pretty girl. This was always a sure draw for Ponto, and used to amuse Lord William, showing him off.

Inverarm was like a museum for its many trophies of the chase and sport generally. Tables groaned under cups and beautiful silver. Some of Lord Bill’s silver bowls were remarkable for their delicate workmanship; he used often to lend them to people giving parties when they wanted to make a little splash. Indeed, so interesting and comfortable was the house that whenever there was an overflow from the Viceregal Lodge, which was not infrequent, Peterhoff being very circumscribed, the extra guests were put up at Inverarm.

One day when riding along the Mall, Lord William saw a doolie being carried along with a sick man inside; he asked the bearers who was inside, and being told a cavalry officer from the plains, and hearing they were going to take the invalid to an hotel, he told them to go straight to Inverarm, and escorted them to it, keeping the sick man until well again, doing everything possible for his comfort and to expedite his recovery. The individual in question was the present Sir Robert Baden-Powell, at that time in the 13th Hussars, now father of that most important and valuable institution the Boy Scouts.

No season either in Simla or Calcutta was allowed to pass without the children being catered for; the parties the Military Secretary gave for them were amongst the most delightful and eagerly looked forward to by the young folk, who all adored Lord Bill; he in his turn adored them. The vocabulary of children is so small and yet so sufficing. Bairns are very dramatic little persons, and their patois delightful. He would at any time give up an engagement for his own pleasure to go and amuse a sick child, telling them stories, taking them presents and flowers, and always being robbed of the one in his button-hole. He used to have great confidences and secrets with them, which children always enjoy. One small boy who had broken his leg and was much devoted to his delicate mother, wanted to give her something on her birthday as a great surprise, and could not make up his mind what it should be, as his saved pennies were not excessive. For days Lord William made suggestions, none of which were favoured, some being too costly, others she would not care for. Each visit Lord William paid he had some fresh list of suggestions. If the boy had decided on an elephant Lord Bill would have said he was sure he could get one for the money and procured it; but at last the boy had decided in his own mind, and joyfully told Lord William, saying, “I have found out what mother would like; it is a book she often reads. It got spoilt with the white ants eating it, and I want to give her another.”

“That is capital,” said Lord William; “what is the name of the book and who is it by, I mean who wrote it?”

“Oh, I don’t know that,” replied his little friend, looking rather dismayed, “I think it is called _Infernal Hope_, but I don’t know who wrote it.”

“Never mind, little man, I will soon find out, don’t worry, it is a funny name, but I will soon get it for you. If I write to a man I know who keeps a big book shop, he will be sure to know and send it at once.”

Lord William made a point of finding out from another member of the family what the book was without giving away his little friend’s secret. It was Archdeacon Farrer’s _Eternal Hope_, and it arrived duly in a beautiful cover in time to give pleasure to both the little invalid and his mother.

Some years after this, when I was giving a children’s party at home in England, Lord Bill asked, “May this child come, please?” Of course I replied I should be charmed, and certainly the children were; I never saw bairns enjoy themselves more. He pretended he was an elephant at the Zoo, and allowed them to sit all over him while he travelled about on all fours giving them rides, then pretending to fall down and roll with them. When he thought they were tired of this he crawled under the table in the dining-room and pretended he was a bear in a cage, and had to be fed by the children through the bars formed by the legs of the chairs arranged around him.

After the last happy child had gone home, Lord William and my youngest brother, who had likewise been assisting, feeling rather limp and exhausted, suggested they would like a wash and brush up. After this operation both were due at opposite ends of London; it was pouring with rain, and there seemed to be a scarcity of cabs. The servants whistled until they were nearly black in the face, as my brother expressed it; at last they succeeded in attracting the attention of one hansom; then each man was too polite to take the cab from the other, and as they were going in opposite directions they could not share it. My brother told Lord William to jump in and he would find one for himself, or wait with me until another arrived.

Lord William would not agree to this, and told my brother to jump in. It ended in their struggling fiercely in the street, each trying to put the other into the cab. The cabby at first looked on in awe and wonderment; he was anxious to keep the cab dry, and each time one of the strugglers was nearly deposited in the cab, up would go the glass, then as they subsided for a fresh effort on the pavement down went the glass again, as the cabby saw all was not decided. He was now entering into the spirit of the game, and settled down to watch and be ready to receive the missile when it eventually arrived.

By this time another cab had turned up, but nobody took the least notice of it. A small crowd of wet errand boys had collected to watch the fun, and I was momentarily expecting a policeman to appear on the scenes and take them both into custody.

At last Lord William won the day, and from behind the curtains in the dining-room window I saw my bruised and shin-barked brother chucked into the cab while in response to the cabman’s “Where to?” Lord William replied, “Home for lost dogs, and drive like the devil.” Needless to say neither my brother nor Lord William looked like paying visits after this romp; their hats had been knocked off and clapped on again by the servants, and small boys looking on, only to roll off once more. Ties had waltzed round, and were looking out from unaccustomed places, collars looked shy and drooping; but I am flying too far ahead; and the Simla Gymkhanas require and deserve a little space before passing on.

The subject of these memories was always full of new ideas for the amusement of Simla. Amongst other races he organised, was the Victoria Cross Race, which was exciting, the idea being that each rider had to place a dummy figure of sorts lying on the ground or in some perilous position, the riders would then have to ride as hard as ever they could over certain jumps, pick up the figure, and bring it back over more jumps into safety, just as if they were trying to save life. These figures were often really well got up, one perhaps dressed as an ayah, another as a child, a soldier, war correspondent, and so on. It was most amusing to watch the struggles while picking up the figures and remounting again. During one of these races Lord William elected to rescue a war correspondent who was supposed to be wounded. He succeeded in picking him up, and was coming over the last fence with him in great style, when a post, which had no business to have been left where it was, caught Lord William on the head, or his head came in contact with the post, giving him a nasty wound, which bled profusely and caused him to lose the race, but the rescued correspondent came in useful, as he helped to mop up the gore. Lord William swore he was none the worse, but must surely have had a very sore head.

Another invention from the same brain was the cigar race. The riders had to start, go over some of the jumps, then change mounts. It was arranged beforehand whom they would change with, it had to be one that had started in the race; then light a cigar, remount quickly, and finish the race with the cigar still alight. This was essential. The agitation was great when the matches would not light, their heads broke off, or the ponies objected, some of which saw no fun in it and declined to wait and see the rest.

Then for another change the ponies and their riders had to jump through big paper hoops after the fashion of circus entertainments. This race generally led to merriment, as the ponies did not care for the game, and ran in every direction to avoid the ordeal. The umbrella race was a good one. Riders had to be mounted on their own ponies, which they had to saddle themselves, when a bell was rung, then open an umbrella, which had to be carried open over the jumps. The opening of the umbrella generally caused trouble.

The race for people who had never ridden in one before was usually comic; elderly sportsmen and timid youths were persuaded or goaded into entering, and it provided all sorts of novel conditions and situations.

Riding up from one of these gymkhanas on a newly purchased pony, which had seemed to me very quiet and suitable to narrow paths and hill-climbing, it suddenly turned nasty on hearing the clatter of a horse coming up hurriedly behind him, promptly laid his ears back and turned his tail over the side of the khud, while I had the unpleasant experience of hearing loose stones and earth giving way under his feet and rattling down hundreds of feet below. I thought I had seen my last gymkhana. I leaned as far forward as I possibly could, to keep my weight off his quarters and give him a chance, for he was beginning to think he had done something foolish, and was scrambling to keep foothold with his fore feet, when Lord William, whose horse’s clatter had caused the outbreak of displeasure on the part of my mount, came to the rescue, and seizing me more or less by the hair of my head landed me safely, the pony slipped down a little way, but got entangled in some bushes, and so gave time to several kindly helpers who rescued him. Lord William then insisted on our saddles being changed, as he would not hear of my riding the wicked pony any more; I therefore had a charming beast of his to take me home, while he taught mine a lesson. When he turned up later he told me he thought the pony must have been drugged when I bought it, as it was a nasty, vicious brute, and had tried to crush his legs against first a tree and then some railings after I had left him with it.

The fair held once a year at Sipi, a few miles outside Simla, was usually a day of extra festivities. Lord William’s picnics there were most enjoyable, being arranged and managed as everything he undertook was managed, with forethought for everybody’s comfort. His organising powers were extraordinary, while his peculiarly gracious and courtly manner added charm to all the functions he arranged. Even in the matter of food everyone’s particular taste was catered for.

With the exception perhaps of Sir Spencer Ponsonby Fane, I never met anyone with such a talent for organising State functions and great occasions as Lord William, and certainly the latter was the more popular and caused less offence than his old friend did at times.

The road from Simla to Sipi is just a pleasant distance for a ride, but along the edge of precipices and through an alarming dark tunnel, which is quite exciting if riding a quarrelsome horse, for in the darkness you often meet a crowd of ponies being driven through with big bundles on their backs. They are usually being driven through by pedestrian natives. The situation at times lends itself to some mix-ups and chatter.

The surrounding tribal women gather themselves together, decked out in all their best, some with a view to finding suitable mates, others to sell their jewellery and gew-gaws. The Thibetan women often realise big prices for their turquoise and silver ornaments. It is a great day amongst the hill tribes for exchange and barter, indeed sales of all sorts.

There is also ceremony attached to this fair, as some of their gods are brought to shower blessings on all the chosen ones. Such curious figures some of these deities possess, they baffle description, being quaint figures, half man, half beast, half nothing. Some do not possess any legs, others we presume have, but are clothed in mysterious garments, leaving much to the imagination. One year Lord William gave his picnic in a villa built there by an Italian confectioner, which sounds strange in the Himalayan mountains surrounded by Thibetan females and other hill tribes. We also must have looked a little out of place, indeed I think we always do look out of place in the gorgeous colour-loving East.

Lord William was the life and soul of Simla, and exceedingly popular with everybody. One of his most charming traits, and one which I admired much, was his gentle, polite manner to natives. Once young Englishmen arriving from home considered it fine and grand to be rude and rough to natives when they were stupid, and made mistakes, which very often arose from their own ignorance of the language, and therefore being unable to express themselves intelligibly; I have heard a young subaltern saying he had saddled his pony, when what he wished to say was the syce was to do so, the young man’s grammar being defective, for which the natives had to suffer. Lord William was most particular in giving his orders to see they were understood, and gave them in a clear polite way which was most refreshing; naturally the natives loved him, would do anything for “Lord Brasspot Sahib.”

Many of his friends said he was a great loss to the Service. Once when a great friend of his was walking round Jakko (the only decent road round on one side of Simla, a sort of continuation of the Mall) with General Sir George Chesney, who wrote that clever book _The Battle of Dorking_, Lord William rode by at a gallop, taking his hat off to Sir George in a way quite peculiar to himself; it always seemed to imply so much, respect, affection, compliment, pleasure at seeing you, and everything else of the kind, leaving each individual feeling comfortable and pleased. As he passed, Sir George, who was walking with one of the members of the staff and as already stated an old friend of Lord William’s, turned to his companion remarking, “There goes a leader of men. Instead of being Military Secretary to the Viceroy he ought to be commanding a cavalry brigade; he would be unequalled at that work, always supposing he was not turned out of the service for disobedience to orders.”

Another friend, a clever lady of that time at Simla, speaking of Lord William’s character generally, said, “It is not Bill’s cleverness or quickness to grasp the situation, but what he has got in an eminent degree is what Solomon had. I have always thought that Solomon’s great wisdom was much exaggerated, and that what he really had in pre-eminence, and Bill has too, is tact, doing the right thing at the right time. For instance ... it was not Solomon’s great knowledge that bamboozled the Queen of Sheba, but knowing when she wanted a foot-stool!”