The doctor has turned up, and a party of ladies.

The visitors' enclosure is fast filling up, and there is a fair show of carriages behind.

Those big fellows in the tall hats are old Parkhurstians, come to see the young generation go through its paces, and that little knot of men talking together in the middle of the ground consists of the starter, judge, and umpire.

Not a few of us, too, turn our eyes wistfully to that tent over yonder, where we know are concealed the rewards of this day's combats; and in my secret heart I find myself wondering more than once how it will sound to hear the names "Adams and Slipshaw" called upon to receive the first prize for the three-legged race.
Hark! There goes a bell, and we are really about to begin.

"Number 1, Junior 100 yards, for boys under 12," and 24 names entered! Slipshaw and 1, both over 12, go off to have a look at "the kids," and a queer sight it is.