To-day will ever be historic in the turf annals of Kentucky, as the first "Derby Day," of what I hope to see a long series of turf festivities. If the officers of the Association could have had the pick from the calendar of the year, there could not have been a more delightful and charming day. The morning broke without a cloud visible in the heavens, while a cool breeze was wafted over the course, tempering the increasing rays of the sun. It was just such a day in May When the sun is rejoicing above in heaven, The clouds have all hurried away. Down in the meadow the blossoms are waking, Light on their twigs the young leaves are shaking, Round the warm knolls the lambs are a leaping, The colt from his fold o'er the pasture is sweeping, But on the bright lake, The little waves break, For there the cool west is at play. The course was in splendid order, and all the appurtenances requisite for the comfort and convenience of racing was ready to hand. In company with a friend we started early for the course, thinking that we would reach it before the crowd, but by half past eleven o'clock we found enough people to make a respectable show. As the hour approached for the opening of the ball, every avenue leading to the course was thronged with people making their way to it. It was indeed a Derby Day in all respects. With the two railroads leading to the course, the street cars, hacks and private vehicles, when the first bell was rung for the riders, the Grand Stand presented one solid mass of human faces, while the quarter-stretch, the public stand, and a portion of the field was covered with people. There could not have been less than 10,000 persons on the course, composed of all grades of society, the banker, the merchant, the gentleman of leisure and pleasure seeker, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, _et id omne genus_. That portion of the Grand Stand devoted to the ladies was one grand bouquet of beauty, refinement and intelligence. The ladies in the various costumes looked like so many parti-colored butterflies, balancing themselves on their wings, in the slanting rays of the bright sun. At one time you met a beauty with such sweetness in her upturned eyes, such as fancy lends to the Madonna; at another point, one on whose lips the words laugh, and whose stately steps Are light, as though a winged angel trod Over earth flowers, and fear'd to brush away Their delicate hues. All the shades of beauty is fully represented, from the blonde to the brunette, from the matron, whose hair is threaded with the silver, to the young girl just blushing into womanhood, whose cheeks are as ruby red as a peach that has been kissed by the sun.