he
record of the race, on a narrow strip of film two hundred and fifty feet
long, the latent image of thousands of separate pictures.

Then began another race against time, for it was necessary to take that
long ribbon across the city of Brooklyn, over the Bridge, across New
York, over the North River by ferry to Hoboken on the Jersey side,
develop, fix, and dry the two-hundred-and-fifty-foot-long film-negative,
make a positive or reversed print on another two-hundred-and-fifty-foot
film, carry it through the same photographic process, and show the
spirited scene on the stereopticon screen of a metropolitan theatre the
same evening.

That evening a great audience in the dark interior of a New York theatre
sat watching a white sheet stretched across the stage; suddenly its
white expanse grew dark, and against the background appeared "The
Suburban, run this afternoon at 4:45 at Sheepshead Bay track; won by
Alcedo, in 2 minutes 5 3-5 seconds."

[Illustration: BIOGRAPH PICTURE OF A MILITARY HAZING SCENE
These pictures are not consecutive. The difference between those that
follow each other is so slight as to be almost imperceptible because of
the rapidity with which they are taken. These pictures were probably
taken at the rate of thirty to forty per second.]

Then appeared on the screen the picture of the scene that the thousands
had travelled far to see that same afternoon. There were the wide,
smooth track, the tower-like judges' stand, the oval turf of the inner
field, and as the audience looked the starter moved his arm, and the
rank of horses, life-size and quivering with excitement, shot forth.
From beginning to end the great struggle was shown to the people seated
comfortably in the city playhouse, several miles from the track where
the race was run, just two hours and fifteen minutes after the winning
horse dashed past the judges' stand. Every detail was reproduced; every
movement of horses and jockeys, even the clouds of dust that rose from
the hoof-beats, appeared clearly on the screen. And the audience rose
gradually to their feet, straining forward to catch every movement,
thrilled with excitement as were the mighty crowds at the actual race.

To produce the effect that made the people in the theatre forget their
surroundings and feel as if they were actually overlooking the
race-track itself, about five thousand separate photographs were shown.

It was discovered long ago that if a series of pictures, ea