WORD PAIXTIXG. 63 



The militant band of the Cleveland Greys was dis- 

 coursino^ inspiring music. The roads were thronged 

 with an interminable procession of carriages and street 

 cars. The steam cars were rolling in long trains of 

 eager passengers, and the entire tout emenible pre- 

 sented a scene of tip-toe expectation, such as pre- 

 cedes the consummation of some lono^-heralded, o-reat 

 event. 



" But when the bell rang for the appearance of the 

 horses to contend in the free-for-all race, the impatience 

 of the vast throng to catch the first glimpse of the 

 grand entries rose to the very height of enthusiasm. 

 The first to make her appearance was the wonderful 

 queen of the turf, Goldsmith Maid, then in her twen- 

 tieth year, yet looking as lithe and delicate as a. colt, 

 although she had campaigned for eleven years, and 

 had asserted 'her supremacy in many desperate turf 

 contests, from the lengthened shadows of the Green 

 Mountains of Vermont to the golden gates of the 

 jeweled daughter of the Pacific. 



" As she moved gracefully past the grand-stand, ten 

 thousand applauding hands and waving handkerchiefs 

 welcomed her and her master trainer, Budd Doble, be- 

 tween whom it is ditficult to determine which has 

 showered the greatest honors upon the other. Then 

 Fullerton, with Dan Mace bowing profusely to the 

 ladies, as if he was the Beau Brummel of the trotting- 

 turf, came by with his poise of head and neck, and 

 high, determined knee-action, in exaggeration of the 

 movement of that incomparable trotter, Dexter. He 

 was closely followed by Lucille Golddust, whose driver, 

 Charley Green, had, within a few years, risen to the 



