  Scene—In Town. Jones meets Brown. Jones. Going to Epsom? Brown. No, I think not. Fact is, the place gets duller year by year. The train has knocked the fun out of the road. Jones. Such a waste of time. Why go in a crowd to see some horses race, when you can read all about it in the evening papers? Brown. Just so. No fun. No excitement. And the Downs are wretched if it rains or snows. Jones. Certainly. The luncheon, too, is all very well; but, after all, it spoils one's dinner. Brown. Distinctly. And champagne at two o'clock is premature. Jones. And lobster-salad undoubtedly indigestible. Brown. Yes,—in spite of the luncheon. (Two hours pass. Scene changes to Epsom.) Jones. Hullo! You here? Brown. Hullo! And if it comes to that, you here, too? Jones. Well, I really found so little doing in town that I thought I might be here as well as anywhere else. Brown. Just my case. Not that there's much to see or do. Silly as usual. Jones. Quite. Always said the Derby was a fraud. But I am afraid, my dear fellow, I must hurry away, as I have got to get back to my party for luncheon. Brown. So have I. MAXIM FOR THE DERBY DAY There's many a slip 'Twixt the race and the tip. Jockey discussing another. "LAST, BUT NOT LEAST" "Why do you call him a good jockey! He never rides a winner." "That just proves it. He can finish last on the best horse in the race!" Man talking to bookmaker. In Search of a "Certainty." Cautious Gambler. "Four to one be blowed! I want a chaunce of gettin' a bit for my money." Bookmaker. "Tell you what you want. You ought to join a burial society. Sure to get somethin' out o' that!" Two pickpockets talking. An Echo from Epsom. "Wot's the matter, Chawley?" "Matter! See that hinnercent babby there? 'E's got 'is pockets full o' tin tacks!" Mam lecturing group of ladies. WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR GIRLS? (Why not give them a few lessons in the science of book-making?) Mr. Professor. "And now, ladies, having closed our book on the favourite, and the betting being seven to three bar one, I will show you how to work out the odds against the double event." Men discussing horse. Cold Comfort. First Sporting Gent (to second ditto, who has plunged disastrously on his advice). "Told yer he was a foregorne conclusion for this race, did I? Well, and what more d'yer want? Ain't he jolly well the conclusion of it?" Donkey cart alongside coach and four. Derby Day. Down the Road.—Matches that strike upon the box. |
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