doubtfully cheerful, as by this time it was raining again, but the people did not seem to be at all doleful over it even when we arrived, after about an hour’s run along the coast, in a steady downpour.
Lake scenery was of course out of the question in such weather, and we were quite seriously discussing the relative merits of the Lunatic Asylum and the gaol, not as permanent residences but as places of interest to visit, as we had been told that both were worthy the notice of visitors to Hokitika, when the landlord of the hotel suggested the races as an alternative. And as he seemed confident that the weather would not affect our enjoyment of the sport, which certainly offered more enlivening prospects than the other way of spending a wet afternoon, and pressed ladies’ tickets and race-cards upon us, we, too, lunched early and went off in a shandrydan to the course.
It proved to be the finest entertainment we had yet enjoyed. At first, when only uninteresting men in steaming overcoats, smelling of rank tobacco, appeared on the stand, which was leaky and very draughty, we were inclined to think that even the stuffy sitting-room of the hotel would have been preferable. But suddenly the rain stopped, the sun shone out, the sky rapidly cleared, and the land smiled after its shower-bath. Then the “Hokitika Citizens’ Band” opened proceedings with a drum-solo that shook the stand and made us think we were at last to experience an earthquake, and very soon the fair of the district began to put in an appearance. Then a fat man came panting up to a row of seats next to us and put half-sheets of note-paper with “reserved” scrawled over them on to about a dozen chairs, and immediately a party of local celebrities arrived and took possession. After that we had not a dull moment.
First the band struck up in immense enthusiasm but somewhat erratic time, the classic composition, “Come, Come, Caroline,” and at the same moment the riders in a race new to us, called “Dash Handicap Trots,” rode round from the weighing room and walked their horses up and down in front of the stand. One of them wore a washed-out blue silk too short everywhere, so that it more nearly resembled a bolero than a jacket, with blue serge trousers tied round the ankles with twine over stout walking boots. Another, a man with a flaming red beard, rode in shirt-sleeves and moleskin breeches; and a third had blue linen trousers and top boots with an antique tail-coat of rusty black cloth. Golfcaps were the favourite headgear, but some wore none at all. and in the race that followed most of those who had any lost it.
It would take too long to write a full and true account of all the comedies, costumes, and customs we witnessed that afternoon. The local paper of the next morning devoted a whole column to the affair, though its opening paragraph really said all that was necessary, for it described the grand stand as “a sight unsurpassed in the annals of Hokitika. with is beautifully dressed lovely ladies . . . !” We gambled recklessly in half-crown bets at totalisator odds, and found that when we took the advice of the bookie we patronised, we
