FUST DAY.
A puss ov ten dollars was trotted for by sucking colts, that had never trotted before for munny.
Thare waz thirteen entries.
Thare waz 60,000 people on the track to witness the rase, (if mi memry serves me rite, and i think she duz.)
The puss was won amid vociferous exclamashuns by a red colt, and the waving ov handkerchiefs, with a strip in his face, and the fainting ov several fust-class females, and one white foot behind.
SEKOND DAY.
It rained like a perpendikular aul day, and no trotting could be had, so the audience aul went hum, cussing and swaring, and offering tew bet four tew six on the Pete Tucker colt.
THIRD DAY.
The sun highsted up in the east more butyfuller than i ever saw her before, (if mi memry serves me rite, and i think she does.)
It waz a fust rate day for agrikultur, or enny other man.