CHAPTER V.
CHICHESTER AND THE HILLS.
Goodwood--The art of being a park--The Cenotaph of Lord Darnley--Boxgrove--Cowper at Eastham--The Charlton Hunt--A famous run--Huntsman and Saint--Present day hunting in Sussex--Mr.Knox's delectable day with his gun--Kingly Bottom--The best white violets--A demon bowler--Two epitaphs.
Chichester may have a cathedral and a history, but nine out of ten strangers know of it only as a station for Goodwood race-course; towards which, in that hot week at the end of July, hundreds of carriages toil by the steep road that skirts the Duke of Richmond and Gordon's park.
Goodwood Park gives me little pleasure.

I miss the deer; and when the first park that one ever knew was Buxted, with its moving antlers above the brake fern, one almost is compelled to withhold the word park from any enclosure without them.

It is impossible to lose the feeling that the right place for cattle--even for Alderneys--is the meadow.

Cows in a park are a poor makeshift; parks are for deer.

To my eyes Goodwood House has a chilling exterior; the road to the hill-top is steep and lengthy; and when one has climbed it and crossed the summit wood, it is to come upon the last thing that one wishes to find in the heart of the country, among rolling Downs, sacred to hawks and solitude--a Grand Stand and the railings of a race-course! Race-courses are for the outskirts of towns, as at Brighton and Lewes; or for hills that have no mystery and no magic, like the heights of Epsom; or for such mockeries of parks as Sandown and Kempton.