MORE RACING 203 



I never was a sprinter, but I recall witli great 

 satisfaction winning an impromptu hundred yards 

 race, for a Cup presented by Lady De Crespigny, 

 between the rival cricket teams, Champion Lodge 

 V. 3rd Hussars, in which every man in each team 

 had to compete. A race with twenty-two runners 

 is "some field." I put down my being able to 

 win to the fact that I had partaken meagrely of 

 the excellent repast provided by our hosts. 



Anyone who can remember Ascot and Epsom 

 in the early eighties, and compare the scene with 

 the present time, must surely have a feeling akin 

 to sadness. The Grand Parade of four-in-hand 

 coaches is a thing of the past. Instead of the 

 picturesque array of well-appointed coaches, a 

 gloomy mass of smelling motors assails both eye 

 and nose. Coaching among the mounted branches 

 of the service was part and parcel of racing. The 

 Regimental Coach was an institution and invariably 

 attended all races within drivinor distance, well 

 provided with refreshments. Officers could then 

 repay a willing tribute for hospitality received, 

 a tribute in many cases impossible to offer under 

 other conditions. To drive a team in style is by 

 no means such an easy job as it looks. I believe 

 every regiment had its crack whip who could drive 

 a team instead of "toolinor it." As coaches swune 

 into the enclosures at Ascot, and sprang the hill 



