The remaining officials are the timekeepers - three in number - for in these days of 'record-breaking' there must be no doubt about times. After each race the three are to compare their watches and then announce the official times. All have 'fly-back' stop watches marking the division of the second into fifths. If all agree upon one time that is the official time; if all three differ, the middle time is given; if one watch differ from the other two, the 'verdict of the majority' stands as the official time. Besides the official timekeepers, there is another timekeeper, who, with the assistance of a 'standard judge,' decides who have got within the standard times. The 'standard timekeeper' stands at the elbow of the 'standard judge,' and when, as for instance, in the first race, the half-mile, 2 min. 2 sec. has been reached, the timekeeper, keeping his eye upon the watch, says 'Now,' and the judge, with his eyes fixed on the line, sees what runners have got within the standard, and will win the 'standard medal.' Last, but not least, are the two 'clerks of the course,' whose business it is to call out the names of the runners in the dressing-rooms, and see that they come out upon the course up to time.

In a club meeting, where there are many handicaps with large entries, the 'clerks of the course' have the hardest, as well as the most responsible, part of the day's work, as if they fail, or get behindhand, the whole meeting becomes demoralised. Here, there, everywhere, now on the track, now in the dressing-room, now soothing the feelings of this or that grumbler (for an athletic meeting is seldom without some competitor or spectator with an imaginary grievance), is Mr. Herbert, the energetic and courteous secretary of the A.A.A., who has had all the burden of preparing for the meeting upon his shoulders.

' The standards are not the same for every year. They are fixed by the championship committer of the A.A. A. for each year, and the general tendency has been to raise them to accord with the gradual improvement in times and performances.

The first race upon the programme is the half-mile, for which there were ten entries; but five of these fail to turn up at the post, Bryden and Nalder keeping themselves for the mile and the others making no appearance at the meeting. And here let us say that the championship meeting has since 1880 been absolutely open to any competitor of any station in life provided he has not run for money or run against a professional in public; so that the old 'gentleman-amateur' who enters for a championship knows that he may have to run a mile against a postman or put the weight against a blacksmith. The five starters for the half-mile are Haines, a countryman from Faringdon, in Berkshire, who runs gamely, but with a stiff, awkward action at the hips, which must waste his strength. Then there are the two crack Londoners, both members of the South London Harriers' Club, E. D. Robinson and Stuart Howard, of whom the latter was for some time thought the coming champion until he was beaten by Robinson in a level half-mile at the Croydon sports. Robinson is a tall bony-looking athlete, with a tremendous and rather slouching stride, which always induces the spectator to think that he is going more slowly than is actually the case.

Stuart Howard has decidedly a more taking style than his club-mate, as he runs with his chest thrown back and erect, and his legs shooting straight out; but a high action is often more taking than successful. The field is made up with two other Londoners, J. A. P. Clarke and Bessell, neither of whom is much in the hunt to-day, though Clarke has done some fine times at a mile. When the pistol fires Haines dashes off with the lead at a hot pace but with laboured action; Robinson hanging close behind him. The first lap (half the distance) is completed in 55 2/5- sec, Haines moving by this time with greater effort than ever. When another hundred yards are passed, however, Robinson spurts by him, and going up the back stretch seems to have the race at his mercy. Meanwhile Howard is creeping up, gets to Haines' shoulder at the top of the ground, and when the three enter the straight, 120 yards from home, Robinson is half a dozen yards in front of the other pair. Howard shoots away from Haines in pursuit of the leader and gains slowly upon him, but Robinson, who is clearly tiring, can still keep his long stride, which brings him home a couple of yards in front of Howard in 1 min. 59 sec.

A fine race and a fine performance is the opinion, for both men are clean run out, and to beat 2 min. is what only some eight or ten amateurs have ever been able to do. Next come the heats of the 100 yards race. Ever since 1868 at the championship meeting the track has been roped off with iron posts and cords, so that each runner may have a clear course to himself. Just now sprinting is watched with peculiar interest, as there are four runners on the path, Cowie, Ritchie, Wood, and the new celebrity Wharton, of each of whom his friends aver that he is 'the fastest man who ever put on a shoe.' Cowie, for the three last years champion at this distance, has unfortunately broken down in training by a sinew giving way, to the intense disappointment of the public, who, however, are looking forward to seeing Wharton, of Darlington, who is a 'coloured gentleman.' The first heat, with Cowie absent, attracts little attention, and is won by Shaw, of Hereford. In the next heat Ritchie, the Bradford crack; Wood, who trains on his farm in Norfolk; Levick, a speedy little Londoner, and Peter James, from Sydney, New South Wales, are the competitors. Ritchie gets away a trifle sharper than Wood, and when both are moving the Yorkshireman is half a yard ahead.

With this distance between them they rush over the hundred, and Ritchie wins by a short head in 10 1/5 sec, Levick being outpaced, and the colonial nowhere. Both Ritchie and Wood are well built for sprinting: the former is of middle height, has a tremendous chest, bull-head and large thighs. Wood is almost a giant, being heavily built all over, has a 40-inch chest and scales over twelve stone. The third heat is known to be a moral for Wharton, but there is intense curiosity to see him move. When at the post with Bassett, of Norwood, Nicholas, of Monmouth, and a Londoner, C. S. Colman, he is seen to shape well, standing like a rock with his feet close together. At the crack of the pistol he is off like lightning, running in a wondrous fashion. Sprinting of many kinds has been seen: some sprint bent forward, some with the head and shoulders thrown back, but here is a man running away from his field with body bent forward and running almost on the flat of his foot. There is short time for wonder, however, as Wharton is half a dozen yards in front of Bassett when he bursts the worsted - for a worsted stretched between the posts breast-high has long since replaced the old-fashioned tape at athletic meetings.