_First Country Boy._ Arrah, they're off, they're away!
_Second Country Boy._ Thin let us down to the big double, avic, and be the grace of God we'll see a corpse.
_Girl in Brown (hopping from one foot to the other)._ Can you see Freddy, Uncle George? Is he in front? I'm sure he is. He hasn't fallen, has he? He won't fall, will he? I'm sure he will. I do hope he'll win; I _know_ he won't. The jumps look frightful, and I'm certain he'll break his darling neck. Oh, where _is_ he, Uncle George?
_Uncle George._ Here, take my field-glasses.
_Girl in Brown._ I can't see, I can't see.
_Uncle George (drily)._ Try looking through them the other way round.
_Beshawled Crone (towing an aged beggar-man who wears a framed placard reminding the public that "charity covers a multitude of sins," and announcing that the bearer is not only "teetotally" deaf and dumb, but also blind, barmy and partially paralysed)._ May God's blessin' and the blessin's of all the howly Saints an' Martyrs be on ye, and would ye spare a little copper for a poor owld sthricken crature an' I'll pray for ye this night an' ivvery night of me life?
_Girl in Brown._ Give her a shilling, Uncle George, and tell her to pray for Freddy _now_.
_Beggar-man (miraculously recovering his speech)._ Whist! Was that a shillin' he gave ye? That makes ten ye have now, thin. Bun like a hare an' put ut on Acrobat at the best ye can get.
_Dealer._ Thin 'tis a hardy rider will dare pass the owld foxey mare now, for she'd reach out an' chew the leg off him, she's that jealous.
_Farmer._ Woof! Pat Maguire is into the wather head-first an' dhrinkin' a bellyful, I'll warrant--which same will be a new sensation for him.
_Dealer._ It will indeed. 'Tis a wonder he wouldn't send a lad round the course before him givin' the ditches a dash from a pocket-flask the way he'd be in his iliment should he take a toss--the thirsty poor fella!
_Farmer._ The foxey mare is down on her nose an' Clancy throwing somersets all down the course. Acrobat has ut.
_Dealer._ He has not. He is all bet up. He's rollin' like a Wexford pig-boat. Beau Brocade has the legs of him.
_Girl in Brown (jumping up and down)._ Beau Brocade! Beau Brocade! Oh, Freddy darling!
_Beggar-man (miraculously recovering his sight)._ Acrobat! Put the whip to him, ye lazy varmint! Acrobat! Och, wirra, wirra!