It was Derby Day at Churchill Downs this afternoon, and the enclosure was crowded as it had not been for a long time previous. It was an ideal racing day, the hard rain of the morning thoroughly laying the dust. The rain made the track just a bit slow but this was more than compensated in the absence of dust. The good people of the Falls City were hungry to see a race and they turned out in large numbers, irrespective of color, class or circumstances. A free field made it possible for those who were unable to pay the price of admission to see the racing at little or no cost at all. There was an immense crowd in the infield, and the fence from the head of the stretch to the clubhouse turn was lined with a dense mass of humanity, each moity of which was struggling to either gain or maintain his position. The Derby of 1894 had not about it quite that glamour and fascination that has characterized several former contests for this event perhaps because there was no horse in it of particularly high-class, and of such individual prominence as to attract and absorb public attention for weeks prior to the race, which reaches the public thru the medium of the press. Horses are something like men in that some of them possess a kind of magnetism that draws around them a coterie of admirers, who become as much infatuated with him as does the most ardent admirers of a political leader. Such a horse was Proctor Knott, and never before nor since in the West, was as much written about and as much attention paid to a horse as was to him. The press teemed with articles about him from day to day, for weeks prior to the Derby of 1889, so that when the great day rolled around thousands of people went to the track impelled by an uncontrollable curiosity to see the horse that had been written so much about. Well, every one who went on that day, saw a race, the like of which they never saw before nor since. The idol was dethroned but even in defeat he was greater in the hearts of his admirers than was the winner.