several statues. For this act he is entitled to the gratitude of all lovers of art.

In the last half of the twenty-ninth lap it was evident that the race lay between Billy Bonder in his two hundred horsepower Slaughterer and Allie Dollarmark in his five horse-power Smasher. They were coming neck and smell past Forty-second Street, with Billy breathing hard, having just run through a hansom cab, when some one opened a bottle of champagne in the

Waldorf, which diverted Allie's attention long enough to give his machine a convulsive clutch.

This caused Billy Bonder to win the race, Allie putting in a protest that wasn't allowed, on the ground that the wine was last year's vintage.

The cup is ten feet high, made by Biffany and Company. It represents a lifesize bas-relief of Reggie Asterbilt, in the act of tossing off a cocktail, seated in his new Merciless Murderer, now on its way from Paris. The cup will have to be won three times, however, before its ownership is permanent. Arrangements are now being made to have the next race on Broadway at the hour when all the common people are going to work.

The steward of the Automobile Club, when interviewed, said:

"This race seems to demonstrate that the small car of minimum horse-power, while perhaps not capable of running over so many victims successfully, is better able to win. First, it can rush through smaller holes, and second, it is capable of just as much smell as a larger car."

The total results of the race, up to the hour of going to press, are as follows:

That the hospitals have never done such a large business.

That the ordinary cabs and carriages still used in New York are 'way behind the times, few of them being able to get out of

the way.

That the gossip of the clubs, which has lately lagged lamentably, has a fresh start.

That the authorities are still with us, and that the Automobile Club of America is all right.

Women are better conversationalists than men; they have less to talk about.

FIFTH AVENUE AT 3:50 P. M.

BOY WANTED.

FIVE o'clock on a dull day in the city. The stock market was closed. The race track was uninviting. All the best people were away. Castleton and Caterby sat lounging in their club. There was absolutely nothing doing. Both were intensely bored. They were in that idle, almost irritating mood, where the slightest incident, no matter how trivial it might be, would have been interesting, could it be turned to account.

The talk slowly drifted from one thing to another.

"Well," said Castleton, with a yawn, "I suppose we'll have to eat again soon. There's nothing better to do. Let's order dinner at once, so that we won't have to wait."

"I feel just now," replied Caterby, "as if I never could eat another thing. Guess I'll go up into the woods and scare up an appetite."

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," said Castleton. "I often wish. I had my boyhood appetite back again."

"So do I. Ah! when I was a kid how I could eat! I don't believe there is anything in the world to beat the appetite of a country boy."

"Well," said Castleton, contemplatively, "I'll wager that some of these city youngsters can do as well."

Caterby puffed in silence.

"That's so," he said at last. "By Jove, do you know it would be fun just to see how much one of them could hold, wouldn't it?" Castleton straightened up.

"Wouldn't it?" he said. "Say, old man, I'll tell you what I'll do. Each one of us select a boy and see how much he can eat. I'll bet you ten dollars my boy can hold more than yours."

Caterby's face brightened. Anything to break the monotony. "Done," he said. "How will we arrange it?"

"Well, each pick out a boy, take him into a restaurant and

let him select what he wants. The one whose boy eats more than the other will win."

"But we'll have to take one boy at a time."

"Why?"

"Simply because, if they order together, they'll both probably take the same things. We want it to be a natural test." "All right. I'll toss you for the first choice."

Castleton won the toss.

At this moment he looked out of the window. A newsboy was passing on the opposite side. He was thin and gaunt and hungry-looking-just the type.

"There's my boy," said Castleton, "just as if Providence had placed him there."

He opened the window, whistled, and then the two men went out on the front steps. The boy flew across the street.

"Paper, sir?"

"Young man," said Castleton, "would you like a good, square meal-just as much as you can crowd in?"

The boy opened his eyes wide. It was a sudden blow.
"Is dis a guy?"
"No-honest."
"No kiddin'?"

"On the square."

"Sure I would."

"Then come with us."

Castleton led the way over on the next avenue, where there was a good middle-class restaurant. The two men and the boy entered and took a table. A waiter came up.

"Give this young man,” said Castleton, “just what he wantsall he can eat, and I'll pay for it. Here, kid, can you read?” The boy nodded.

"Then order from this bill of fare. Now, don't be afraid, Order anything you want-order the whole thing if you wish."