A GOODWOOD CUP DAY. 251 



the huntsman and whip of Lord March's hounds 

 in the yellow coats, red cuffs and collars of the 

 hunt, have taken their places. 



One of the most peculiar spectacles which 

 Goodwood presents, and one the most interesting 

 for sensible racegoers who do not find the chief 

 attraction in the ring, is gained by an ascent of 

 Trundle HiU, at the end of the course, part of 

 the way up which competitors sometimes go in 

 a race before they can be stopped, when full of 

 running. At the top the view over the wooded 

 country, with the noble trees, its patches of 

 woodlands, golden harvest fields and green 

 meadows, with the waves of the Solent sparkling 

 in the distance, is altogether delightful. The 

 lawn seems like a bed of moving tulips, and the 

 broad course, probably the best in England, a 

 narrow green roadway between the dark border 

 formed by the crowd in the rings and opposite. 



A couple of races of no great importance 

 are run, races with which social Goodwood, 

 unless friends own competitors, have little to do. 

 Luncheon time is coming, and with many 

 anxious glances upwards from kindly hosts and 

 hostesses, to say nothing of hungry guests, 

 parties are arranging themselves round hospitable 

 tablecloths. If on the beech leaves overhead 

 the raindrops should begin to patter down lunch 



