"weights" and all that sort of thing-necessary knowledge for the accomplished turfman. Out in front is the great oval race-track, with its distant borders of stables, all the centre clear of trees and shrubbery, so that nothing obstructs the view, and the ground sloping down from the lawns and stands toward the lower level of the race-track, keeping every part in full sight as the race proceeds. Watching the sport from the greensward below or the stands above-at times wild with excitement or breathless with hope or despair when some "neck-and-neck" contest gives an electrical shock to the anxious wagerer as it goes unexpectedly wrong or otherwise-is a grand mixture of wealth and fashion with the "lower ten thousand;" for all manner of men and women love the pleasures and the chances of the race-track. During the June meeting of 1889 this noted race-course at Sheepshead Bay witnessed some great contests, among them the "American Derby," the " Suburban," run on the 18th-one of the best races of the season, watched by twenty thousand people, with nine noted horses contesting for ten-thousand-dollar prizes, and the estimate being that bets aggregating two million dollars changed hands on the result. This wonderful race, which had been talked about for a half year, as the vast crowd saw it, was a flying bunch of glossy-coated horses and little jockeys in bright silk colors passing around the track in barely two minutes time, the close being a mighty cheer as the victor rushed under the wire at the judges' stand and won the race.

In that supreme moment many of the deeply-interested spectators lived fast, and, as their betting fortunes were made or marred, their faces told the story. The winner was August Belmont's Raceland. This race-course is masked from the railways by a border of foliage which makes almost the last cluster of thrifty trees on the edge of the fast land. The racing ended, the crowds moved in vast procession out to the trains to go down and cool off in

THE FAMOUS SAND-STRIP.

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the evening at the Manhattan or Brighton Beach of Coney Island.

THE FAMOUS SAND-STRIP.

It does not take long for the railway-train to cross the salt-meadows from Sheepshead Bay and the little bordering creek, and then to run over the sand behind the great Manhattan Beach Hotel. Here the passengers empty out, and, passing to the front, are in a moment brought in full view of the Atlantic Ocean beating against the protecting bulkhead. The enthusiastic antiquarians of Coney Island insist that this was the earliest portion of these coasts that was discovered, and they tell us how old Verrazani came along in 1529 or thereabouts to find the narrow strip of sandbeach, and how Hendrick Hudson nearly a hundred years later held conferences with the Indians on the island. However that may be, it was not settled until comparatively recently, being used for grazing cattle, while the present wonderful development as a summer resort has been a matter of the last fifteen or twenty years. The hard and gently-sloping beach faces the Atlantic Ocean and gives excellent facilities for bathing. The place can be so easily reached and in so many ways, both by land and water, and at such a small cost, that it is no wonder on hot afternoons and holidays the people of New York and Brooklyn go down by hundreds of thousands. Coney Island is separated from the mainland only by a little crooked creek, and it has two deep bays indented behind it-Gravesend Bay on the west and Sheepshead Bay on the east. The name is said to come from Cooney Island, meaning the "Rabbit Island," rabbits having been among its chief inhabitants in the earlier days. At present, during probably one hundred days from June until September, the Coney Island season is an almost uninterrupted festival, and no French fête-day can exceed the jollity on these beaches when a hot summer sun drives the people down to the sea

shore to seek relief and have a good time. They spread over the four or five miles of sand-strip, with scores of bands of music of various grades of merit in full blast; countless vehicles moving; all the minstrel shows, miniature theatres, Punch-and-Judy enterprises, carrousels and merry-go-rounds, big snakes, fat women, giant, dwarf, and midget exhibitions, circuses and menageries, shooting-galleries, concerts, swings, flying horses, and fortune-telling shops open; with oceans of beer "on tap," not to speak of liquids of greater strength; and everywhere a dense, good-humored crowd sight-seeing, drinking, and swallowing "clam chowder."

THE UNIVERSALITY OF THE CLAM.

The only country approaching this place in similar scenes is France, and there is nothing like Coney Island elsewhere on the American continent. Our French cousins, however, while they may drink wine and beer, can hardly be accused of consuming" clam chowder" to any appreciable extent. The clam is universal, and is the bivalve to which Coney Island and its visitors pay special tribute. This famous bivalve is the Mya arenaria of the New England coast, which is said to have been the chief food of the Pilgrim Fathers for years after they landed on Plymouth Rock. Hence the devotion of New England and New York to the mysteries of "clam chowder," which, like the "baked beans" of Boston and the "scrapple" of Pennsylvania, has become a national dish. Being found in abundance in all the neighboring waters, Coney Island naturally serves up the clam as its most popular food, and it can be got in every style according to taste, amid the unlimited magnificence (including the bill) of the gorgeous hotels and restaurants of the Manhattan and Brighton beaches, or of varying quality and surroundings at the cheaper shops farther westward toward Norton's Point. At one establishment of renown the visitor, besides his " chowder," also

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gets a copy of the "Song of the Clam," the following being the most thrilling stanzas:

The crowds going to Coney Island on a summer afternoon or evening usually rush back home again the same night, although the lodging and hotel accommodations are upon a vast scale. The aggregation of buildings here, some being of magnificent proportions and decorations, represents, I am told, with the elaborate general improvements and the extensive means of getting to them, an investment of over thirty million dollars. A season at Coney Island is said to be poor indeed that does not have ten millions of visitors, who will leave behind as many dollars, besides paying fifty cents fare to get here and return, making five millions more. Thus an enormous fortune is expended on one brief watering-place season, and with the preparations for gathering this golden harvest it can be readily believed that some of the huge hotels lose money unless they take in an average of five thousand dollars a day. When the season is in full movement five thousand waiters are said to be employed in the hotels and restaurants, besides the necessary regiments of other help. These are huge figures for a watering-place, but they are the outgrowth of its enormous business. No other summer resort has such an aggregation of near-by population to draw upon, for it is estimated that over three millions of people are within a brief ride of this wonderful sand-strip,

and hence its great popularity among the masses around New York harbor.

XI.

THE AMERICAN BRIGHTON.

CONEY ISLAND stands pre-eminent as the greatest watering-place in the world. There are often poured into it, by the dozens of railway and steamboat lines leading from New York and Brooklyn, half a million people in a few hours when the idea gets possession of them to go down. The long and narrow sand-strip may be divided into four sections, being a succession of villages chiefly composed of restaurants and hotels, built along the edge of the beach and a single road behind it. As best known to the New York rough of a past generation, the original Coney Island was the western end or Norton's Point. The better classes of visitors do not now go to this end, which has been a resort of long standing and occupies a considerable portion. The middle of the island is a locality of higher grade and is known as West Brighton Beach. Here are the great iron piers projecting into the ocean for steamboatlandings, being surmounted by pavilions used for restaurants, while beneath are bathing-houses. Music, electric lights, and fireworks are displayed on these piers, and many visitors thus get access by water. At West Brighton is also the Observatory, moved here from Philadelphia after the Centennial Exhibition, and rearing its tall framework high in the air. Here also are the "Big Elephant," and the "Sea Beach Palace," another Centennial building, used for a hotel and a railway-station. It must not be forgotten that every hotel of pretensions in this lively place has its own railway, and that the competition to get posses