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SARATOGA AND THE SARAT0 GIANS. Saratoga Springs is the Villa of villages. It refuses to stay dead, no matter how reasonable its extinction appears to be. When racing reached low tide, the sages remarked that Saratoga was a goner; racing might come back, but tlie old watering place could not. But back it is, as popular as ever. It is not the Saratoga of eight or ten years ago, when Canfield and his rivals were wide open and when Gates and Drake pleaded to be permitted to bet five or ten thousand more on the chances of the last king preceding the last ace in the flow from the faro box. But the horses are there, probably because it was known that the people would be there; and the people are there because of the presence of the horses, those noble animals which are raced for the improvement of the human temper. Sticklers will object to the reference to Saratoga as a village, its incorporation as a city having been accomplished last year. But the oldsters will always think of it as a village, just as surely as they will never refer to it as "the Spa." Say "Spa" to any one in Saratoga Springs and he will think you have Ballstou in mind. Going to Saratoga is a habit, like corner lounging. The place is the home of concentrated gossip. If the visitor loses ,000 at the track and his wife rebukes him, everbody knows about it that night,, but nobody blames either visitor or wife. The widest and most harmless gossip is about the horses. AAhy was Regret short in her last race? Is AAhatsthis going to start tomorrow? AVhat was the best price laid against Hot Aeroplaue? Bumble-foot carried two pounds orerwelght. They say Continued on second page. SARATOGA AND THE SARATOGIANS. Continued from first page. Jack McGrcenberg lost the bank roll today. Hrery one is glib about the horses except the few who go to the Springs to drink water. They are a smaller group, for from the maddening crowd. They know that Congress Spring contains S.559 grains of bromide of sodium to the U. S. gallon. They know that the State owns 100 springs of radioactive alkaline, saline water, most of them like the racing crowd, supersaturated with gas. But they could not tell you Mr. Belmonts colors. On the other hand, the racing folk do not know that Father Jogues discovered High Rock Spring nearly three centuries ago; and as for Sir William Johnson, they think he was a horse. There is an older set. the members of which combined racing and water drinking. In their youth the races began before noon and there was "time for lots of water before dinner. The Grand Union pencil, compounded with Santa Cruz rum, was a dainty to be loft for the evening at the hop; not to bo guzzled before rushing to the lake for dinner. This oh! crowd remembers ancient hordes. Some mumble about Harry Bassett and Joe Cotton. Others, who stSl wear hats with gay ribbons, will not go back further in their talk than thirty years. They saw Emperor of Norfolk beat King Fish. They picked up a days expenses when Hanover, ridden by McLonghlin. won the United States Hotel Stakes at 1 to 10. They chatter of Kingston and what a sprinter he was. They are inclined to be pessimistic. Colin? No such two-year-old as Morello. Stromboli? You should have seen Hamburg. Jockeys nowadays cant judge pace as Isaac Murphy did. Even the drinks have gone back; a Union punch ought to have three blackberries in it. The natives are unchanged, except that where John Sanders kept a livery stable in 1890 John Sanders, Jr.. now runs a garage. The natives arc-too busy making money to go to the track. Once in a while, when John Sanford starts a new colt, they plunge. To them the greatest horse ever foaled was Chuctanunda. New York Sun.
