A FOXHUNTING JOURNAL 177 



Lord, what a pace! He'll break his knees — 

 Ouch! There, I knew it! "Lakewood 's" come 

 A beastly cropper; clear the course! 

 Gad, how I love that rhythmic drum 

 Of hoofs — Ah! — Watch him! There 's a horse! 

 Lord, what a jump! Come on! Oh, ride — 

 Ride, you two beggars! Head to head. 

 Boot-leg to boot-leg, stride for stride ^ 



O Lord, make me a thoroughbred! 



THE FOXHALL FARM CUP 



Saturday, October 2)0th, 1920 

 Ever since Sam Riddle decided not to race "Man-o'-War" 

 any more, the one topic of conversation among the sport- 

 ing fraternity has been Foxie Keene's great race in Harford 

 County for teams of three horses representing the various 

 Hunts. 



It was a great race and a most delightful sporting tour 

 that a good many of us made from here by motor on the 

 Friday before; and the hospitahty of the Harford Hunt, 

 where most of us (forty-nine, to be exact) were put up by 

 Colonel and Mrs. Valentine, was unsurpassed. 



How they did it, I don't see, but everybody had a bed 

 and everybody was happy; even though some were cold, 

 none were frozen. There was also that good old combina- 

 tion of Wine, Woman, and Song, but I should say song 

 predominated, although there was wine and woman in 

 plenty; but I 'm a bit off my track, as I started to tell about 

 the race, and not tales out of school. 



However, after walking the course on Saturday morning 

 and admiring the beauties of it and the surrounding coun- 

 try, and after a very big luncheon at the Club, we motored 

 back to Foxhall Farm for the great event. 



The parade to the post was most impressive; never was 



