A FOXHUNTING JOURNAL 173 



we were taken to the garage to see the moving pictures of 

 the great ^75,000 match race with Sir Barton at Windsor. 

 It was really a remarkable picture, and altogether so en- 

 joyable an evening, that no one who was there will ever 

 forget it. "Man-o'-War's" name is carved in the annals of 

 the " Sport of Kings " for all time, and written in the minds 

 of our present generation alongside those of our lovable 

 host and hostess of Glen Riddle. 



At dinner the other evening I asked Mrs. Cooke (Amory 

 Hare) to write a poem for my journal, and, true to her, fox- 

 hunting form, I received in a day or so the following de- 

 lightful bit of verse, which, no doubt, is quite the piece de 

 resistance of this humble effort. 



THE ROSE TREE MEETING, 1920 



WOULD some power the gift bestow, 

 To see ourselves in racing season, 



As to the meet we briskly go, 

 Though one might often ask the reason; 

 For I will prove that we must pay 

 Time well for parting with its treasure — 

 The twenty minutes of the day 

 In which nags gallop for our pleasure. 

 In truth, a madness must descend 

 Upon those persons who can find 

 Such store of gladness without end. 

 Such strange and awful peace of mind 

 In mud and cold and drifting wet — 

 In shivering by the paddock fence, 

 Or fighting through to place a bet 

 Lunchless and drinkless; hasten hence 

 And join this mad and happy few 

 In their pursuit of ecstasy — 



1 '11 name them as they come for you. 

 If you will but lend your courtesy. 



There's "Stanley" with his lacquered legs, 

 His greyhounds and his pearly hats, 



