_The Severe Critic._ Is he, though?--but I suppose they _have_ to be here, eh? Not allowed champagne or whiskey or anything before they go in--like they are on a racecourse? _The J. of H._ No, they insist on every horse taking the pledge before they'll enter him. _The Descriptive Man._ Each of 'em's had a turn at the in-and-out jump now. What's coming next? Oh, the five-barred gate--they're going over that now, and the stone wall--see them putting the bricks on top? That's to _raise_ it. _The Morbid Man._ None of 'em been off yet; but (_hopefully_) there'll be a nasty fall or two over this business--there's been many a neck broke over a lower gate than that. _A Competitor clears the gate easily, holding the reins casually in his right hand._ _The J. of H._ That man can ride. _The Severe Critic._ Pretty well--not what I call _business_, though--going over a gate with one hand, like that. _The J. of H._ Didn't know you were such an authority. _The S. C. (modestly)._ Oh, I can tell when a fellow has a good seat. I used to ride a good deal at one time. Don't get the chance much now--worse luck! _The J. of H._ Well, I can give you a chance, as it happens. (Severe Critic _accepts with enthusiasm, and the inward reflection that the chance is much less likely to come off than he is himself_.) You wait till the show is over, and they let the horses in for exercise. I know a man who's got a cob here--regular little devil to go--bucks a bit at times--but you won't mind that. I'll take you round to the stall, and get my friend to let you try him on the tan. How will that do you, eh? _The Severe Critic (almost speechless with gratitude)._ Oh--er--it would do me right enough--capital! That is--it would, if I hadn't an appointment, and had my riding things on, and wasn't feeling rather out of sorts, and hadn't promised to go home and take my wife in the Park, and it's her birthday, too, and, then, I've long made it a rule never to mount a strange horse, and--er--so you understand how it is, don't you? _The J. of H._ Quite, my dear fellow. (_As, for that matter, he has done from the first._) _The Cockney Groom (alluding to a man who is riding at the gate)._ 'Ere's a rough 'un this bloke's on! (_Horse rises at gate; his rider shouts, "Hoo, over!" and the gate falls amidst general derision._) Over? Ah, I should just think it was over! _The Saturnine Stableman (as horseman passes)._ Yer needn't ha' "Hoo"'d for that much! [_The Small Boy, precariously perched on an immense animal, follows; his horse, becoming unmanageable, declines the gate, and leaps the hurdle at the side._ _The S. S._ Ah, you're a _artful_ lad, you are--thought you'd take it where it was easiest, eh?--you'll 'ev to goo back and try agen, you will.