TROTTING RACES. 103 
this point; but Smuggler gained on the Maid inch 
by inch, and finally dashed under the wire, three 
quarters of a length in advance, amid tumultous ap- 
plause. Time, 2.16}. “The scene which followed,” 
says a contemporary and graphic report in the 
Turf, Field, and Farm, “is indescribable An elec- 
trical wave swept over the vast assembly, and men 
swung their hats and shouted themselves hoarse, 
while the ladies snapped fans and parasols and 
burst their kid gloves in an endeavor to get rid of 
the storm of emotion. The police vainly tried to 
keep the quarter stretch clear. The multitude poured 
through the gates, and Smuggler returned to the 
stand through a narrow lane of humanity, which 
closed as he advanced. Doble was ashy pale, and 
the grand mare who had scored so many victories 
stood with trembling flanks and head down. Her 
attitude seemed to say, ‘I have done my best, but 
am forced to resign the crown.’ ” 
“During the intermission,” according to the same 
account, “the stallion was the object of the greatest 
scrutiny. So great was the press that it was difficult 
to obtain breathing-room for him. He appeared fresh, 
and ate eagerly of the small bunch of hay which was 
presented to him by his trainer after he had cooled 
off. It was manifest that the fast work had not de- 
stroyed his appetite. The betting now changed, for 
it was seen that the Maid was tired.” 
The race, however, was not over yet. Smuggler 
had two heats to win before victory would be his, 
whereas Goldsmith Maid needed only one more. She 
was leg-weary, to be sure, but then she could be 
counted on to make a humanly sagacious use of her 
