" HAPPY DAYS " 



for it is a certainty that there would be thirty per 

 I cent, more business done. This scarcely comes into a 

 book of reminiscences, but is noted chiefly that after 

 generations can know the conditions in which we raced 

 at the beginning of the twentieth century. 



For many years it was my custom to pay a visit to 

 Ostend, usually just after the London Cup Meeting at 

 Alexandra Park, when there was a lull for a week or so, 

 and a holiday could be prolonged if desired. Many a 

 merry little party has left Charing Cross for Belgium 

 with myself as one. I can recall so many who have 

 accompanied me. Sometimes it has been to one hotel, 

 and then to another — and in different company. Harry 

 Otter — a brother of Frank — and Harmon Hargreaves 

 ("Happy Days ") travelled over once with me, and it 

 was a cheery time. " Happy Days " — always hospit- 

 able — excelled himself in the morning, because he 

 would never allow us to have any of the cold bottle 

 in his right hand unless we had a good sprinkling 

 of the Perrier — the soft stuff — from his left hand ; 

 he had all sorts of theories about how the delicate 

 stomach should be treated. Harmon Hargreaves 

 originally hailed from Bolton, Lancashire, where his 

 father was one of the most prominent citizens, 

 I much respected, and a most liberal supporter of local 

 I institutions, including the Bolton Wanderers F.C. 

 j I never came across a man map his year out more 

 consistently than Harmon Hargreaves, who is as well 

 I known in club enclosures and to all the layei^ in 

 j Tattersalls as he is at Grindelwald, Davos and St Moritz 

 I — or Princes — as a competitor in winter sports. Har- 

 greaves might be seen at Lincoln and Liverpool ; 

 then he would disappear — he would say we should 

 not see him again — until Epsom. Cricket took the 

 best part of his summer, at which he has been 



297 



