The next event was an obstacle race for the cashier’s window, open to members of the artistic as well as the literary section of the settlement, the former being subjected to a handicap of three extra “O. K.’s” on account of their superior sprinting qualities with such a goal in sight. This contest was won by a one-legged man, whose infirmity was offset by the fact of his long experience in cashier chasing in the office of the “Illustrated American.” Then came what was called a “Park Row contest,” open to all ex-journalists, in the form of a collar-and-elbow wrestling match for the city editor’s desk, catch as catch can. There were seven contestants in this match, each of whom was obliged to catch all the others in the act of doing something wrong and report the same at headquarters. The prize was given to a gentleman who had filled every position on the “Herald” from window-cleaner to editor-in-chief, and is now spending his declining years at the copy desk in that establishment, and taking a morose and embittered view of life. The running high jump next occupied the attention of the spectators. A huge pile of reminiscences of prominent statesmen, writers, and other famous characters was placed on the ground, the prize to be awarded to the author who could jump over the greatest number of them without touching the top of the heap. This proved to be an exceedingly spirited and interesting contest, and the pile slowly increased in height until there was but one contestant left who could clear it. He proved to be a complete outsider, the grand-uncle of one of the poets, who had asked permission to take part in the sports as a guest of Mr. McClure’s. The old gentleman was visibly affected when the prize was handed to him, and explained his success by remarking that for many years he had been in the habit of skipping all the reminiscences in “McClure’s Magazine” whenever he came across them, and this habit, coupled with his regular mode of life, had enabled him to lead all his competitors, even at his advanced age. Mr. Gilder, of the “Century Magazine,” was kind enough to lend his aid in the manuscript-throwing contest which followed. Forty poets, armed to the teeth with their wares, assailed the “Century” editor with poems, and got them all back again without an instant’s delay. The speed with which the experienced editor returned each wad of manuscript to its sender was the subject of general admiring comment to all present except the poets themselves, who found themselves unable to land a single verse. Mr. Gilder was so fatigued with his efforts that he asked to be excused from playing the part of the bag in the bag-punching contest which the poets were anxious to have given.