The morning call., 1894-07-25

is the richest thing out That yellow
coated woman on the sorrel horse is the
one who proves the cow story. And the
man who follows! Alb, you will eXclaim,
what acti0ni But there really has to be
great deal Of it, you know. The yellow
jacketed woman on the sOrTel-c0ated
horse, you know, is jumping over the
Mississippi River at one Of its widest parts.
Notice how the fore feet of the sensitive
steed cleaye th empyreaD while his hind
ones are just spurning the green sod mile
and half to the rear. There never was
such another horse no. not even Fin
Macoul, and Fin, Iyou will remember. was
an Irish giant before Paddy Ryan won the
bet. Truly, there never was such a another
horse, except, of course, the one of the
man who follows-and he's only mile
and a quarter long, taking the picture
for it.
Ana then down in the rolling river be-
low. Just mile directly beneath the girth
Of the yelIow-j acketed woman's sorrel-
coated horse the blacklist kind OF smoke is
pouring from a steamboat funnel. The
black specks you see On the decks are
human beings gazing in swestruck wonder
as you will probably when you view the
jacketed woman.
There, look at that! She has just flicked
a cobweb off the ARREST kind of cloud.
just two miles away. with her whip. The
whip is only half mile long. Her arm
did the rest.
That about describes the picture as it Is.
There is lot of detail in pink and blue
and green and old gold, representing sky
and cloud and foliage. There was clever
bit of hyperboTeah sunset in rose at one
time, but that is hidden now. They have
tied negro on the safety valve and he
casts ebon hues alhwart the rose The
people on the steamer really had TO do it.
See how they are racing now with the
yellow-ja cketed woman on the sorrel-
coated horse.
The picture as it was is a different prop
osition. The changes made in it have
caused all the trouble. They have cha
grined the society belle; have made the
horses-how management sarcastic and put
society and art at daggers' points.
The man who wrought the change in
the picture and put sable hues in the rosy
vistas of horses-how dreams is Charles
Graham. noted for skill and daring with
the brush. He did it in less time than you
could say RO6nsop-Jack. of course, not
the artist-and now the deluge.
1t happened this way: Early in April
the San Francisco Horse Show Associa-
zion was organized and preparations were
at once begun for the first show of the kind
Cd the coast. Sociaty demanded it. What
they could do in New York at the Madison
square Garden. il was boldly asserted could
be outdone in the fairs of America at the
Mechanics Pavilion. They had the horses
here and beauty-well, when it comes to
beauty, that even more important show
than the blo0ded equnes themselves, it
was easily conceded New York wasn't in
it, So it was all settled. There was to be
horse show. Then to inform the world
Of it. The printer and the photographer
were given carte blanche 20 turn them
selves loose and get out the most stunning
things they knew.
They did. The picture you see in the
California bar-or rather before Graham
got in a few artless Japanese touches on
twas one of the results. It was sup
posed to represent a purling brook. bab-
bling away between banks, the bushes
nodding in the gentle breeZes of summer
day. Two figures on horse back-the yell
lOw-jacketed woman on the sorrel-coated
horse and the man in scarlet who follows.
1t was supposed to represent beautiful
water-jump for the beautiful steeds they
bestrode.
But it was only a supposition. You