Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1891-01-02

and fraudulent entrance, to the tall,
stout man who sighs as his thoughts are
waited back to college days-all are
there, leaning over or in close proxim-
ity to the low fence.
Back of this crowd is the grand stand,
moderately we'll filled with matronly
ladies, papas, carpet knights and pretty
girls, some of whom doubtless have
sons, or nephews, or brothers, or lovers
among the knot of athletes out there
on the green.
1t is a glorious day-a typical October
one. The lawn is elastic; the track is
superb The air is bracing, with an
aroma of Indian summer in it; and over
every thing, as if Jupiter Olympus him
self had blessed this special occasion
with his supernal appreciation, is the
smiling azure of perfect sky.
A very small boy, with his chin just
level with the crest of the railing, to
which he clings tenaciously, refusing to
be bribed or coaxed from his enviable
position, says:
"There they goes on the two-twenty,
Tommy" and looking over the stretch
of green we see bunch of seven or
eight forms, dressed in white and blue
and red, bound off, as If propelled from
the pistol whose sharp report reached
our ears moment later.
Round the end of the course they
come, keeping we'll together; the inev-
liable winners, however, drawing slow
ly ahead. One hundred yards remain
seventy-fve-and look! Out of the
half-dozen stragglers there darts form
dressed in blue-a tall, fair, slender
youth. There is cry of warning to
the two men who are leading, neck and
neck, from some partisanl They turn
their heads as they strain every muscle,
and in that moment the form in blue is
foot behind them-abreast, ahead!
and goes flying past us, the winner, in
twenty-three seconds! hear "well
done, boy" in deep voice that trem-
bles, and | look up and see that the
stout gentleman's face is flushed, and
that there are tears in his eyes. And
then the boy in blue comes over
and shakes the big man by the hand
and the father puts his arm through
that of his son, and goes off with him to
the dressing-room in the seventh
heaven of manly pride, and happier
than he has been for many long day.
The race of the day, the "mile," is on
now; and some of the contestants, robed
in long blankets, are stalking up and
down the path, or running slowly on
their toes, in that preliminary little
canter that is such mystery to the ma
1ority Of the onlookers.
The names are called and "Green" is
missing. Who is ''Green?" Nobody
knows him. None of the clubs or run
ming men have ever heard of him. But
as If replication to the expressed
curiosity, now become general, very
small boy dressed in very large home
spun clothes, and bsdecked in Byron
collar, an enormous cravat and low
crowned stiff hat ambles down the
course between the grand stand and the
fence, and sputters between long inter-
walls of breathing:
'Jim's-comin'l He's COMMIT Here's
Jiml Our-ole mare-she-broke the
shaf this side-of Billin's Holler-
strikin' Rube-Gray's wagginl Rube
'as drunk-blame 'iml An run in-on
Jim! But we got--here-just the same.
Here's Jim nowm
Attention was now centered on Jim"
that genuine, undivided public atten-
tion that will forget you moment later
If your head sinks an inch below the
line of novelty.
"Give you three minutes, Green y"