DERBY DAY 177 



is crowded to its utmost capacity with excited spectators, 

 and the hill opposite is swarming like an ant-heap, while 

 the dull roar of a restless and distant multitude strikes 

 the ear. 



At the starting-]:)ost is a dense crowd ; while long lines 

 of people in holiday garb, reaching down to Tattenham 

 Corner, and more thinly skirting all round the running track, 

 have there taken up their positions to watch the race. 

 There are noisy showmen shouting out their wares ; men in 

 booths selling fruits, pies, cold joints and eatables of all 

 sorts ; persistent vendors of everything under the sun ; 

 gipsies everywhere, ready to tell you a good fortune if you 

 only cross their palm; singers and dancers disguised as 

 negroes ; musicians of all sorts, bad and worse ; shooting 

 galleries ; games of skittles and sticks — all this, and much 

 more, proclaim Epsom racecourse on the great Derby day. 



Whatever can carry on wheels is there, from the stately 



turnouts of the nobility and gentry, the four-in-hand 



coaches, the less pretentious private carriages, and even 



the latest motor coach, to the humble donkey-cart and 



ubiquitous bicycle. In incredible confusion they converge 



from every point of the compass, while the never-ending 



stream of enthusiastic pedestrians, who would not miss 



the glories and excitements of the Derby, if they had to 



come on hands and knees, throng the dusty roads. On 



the hill, the spectacle of rows of carriages, five and six 



deep, filled with elegantly dressed women, is something 



to remember; although 'the splendid turnouts of the 



Dukes and Earls, the magnificent coaches, each drawn 



by six superb horses decorated with various-coloured 



favours and rosettes, the smart livery servants, the twenty 



outriders, and the goodly cavalcade of tenantry on horse- 



M 



