AT THE HORSE SHOW.
Time—About 3·30. Leaping Competition about to begin. The
Competitors are ranged in a line at the upper end of the Hall, while the attendants place the hedges in position. Amongst the Spectators in the Area are—a Saturnine Stableman from the country; a Cockney Groom; a Morbid Man; a Man who is apparently under the impression that he is the only person gifted with sight; a Critic who is extremely severe upon other people's seats; a Judge of Horseflesh; and Two Women who can't see as well as they could wish.
The Descriptive Man. They've got both the fences up now, d'ye see? There's the judges going to start the jumping; each rider's got a ticket with his number on his back. See? The first man's horse don't seem to care about jumping this afternoon—see how he's dancing about. Now he's going at it—there, he's cleared it! Now he'll have to jump the next one!
[Keeps up a running fire of these instructive and valuable observations throughout the proceedings.
The Judge of Horseflesh. Rare good shoulders that one has.
The Severe Critic (taking the remark to apply to the horse's rider). H'm, yes—rather—pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though.
[His Friend regards him in silent astonishment.
Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount of daylight.