THE NIGAT 15 sTILL. The night is still, the moon looks kind, The dew hangs jewels in the hesth, An ivy olimbs across thy blind / And throws a light and misty wreal The dew hangs jewels in the heath, Buds bloom for which the bee has pined; I haste along, 1 quicker breathe, The night is sul, the moon looks kind. Buds bloom for which the bee has pined, The primrose slips its jealous sheath, As up the flower- watched path I wind And come thy window-ledge beneath. The primrose slips its jealous sheath— Then open wide that churlish blind And kiss me through the ivy wreath! The nights still, the moon looks kind, IT ERS, A NEEDED CHANGE. A horse and buggy stood at the front | gate. The horse, though high-checked and fairly well groomed, had a certain | heaviness of form and movement that | indicated the drudge of every day, the | roadster only for occasions, The har- | ness was dulled by perhaps two years of | age and brightened again by oll and f polish, The buggy had a top—it was | called a “‘carriage’’ by its owner—and | seemed of equal date with the harness. | It was high, narrow-seated, comfortless, without an element of beauty, but | plentifully covered with varnish. On each side of the ‘“‘coffin’” box was a highly-colored design, which appeared at first glance to be a coat of arms, but which in reality, was only the bold em- | blazonment of the maker’s name. From | the gate ran a path to a spot a little in | front of a neat farm house and there divided into two parts, one of which, | broad but grass-grown, continued to the front entrance, while the other, narrow but deeply-worn, led under lilacs and straggling roses in bloom, to a porch 1n the rear. The side path was the one pursued by a young man who, by hus dress and manner, was as evidently the proprietor of the equipage at the gate as the latter was evidently the property of one of the wealthier class of country lovers. Like all lovers, he wore tight- boots. His coat was a ready-made Prince Albert, too long in the sleeves and waist, too amply huge in the skirt. To give elegance to his attire he wore a pair of dogskin gloves, but the fingers were too long and their extremities had become crumpled and dejected. The young man’s eyes were clear and bright, his head well formed, and he had an air as if he had made life a success. As for his age, one might have guessed that from the age of the harness and buggy. The son of a well-to do farmer has what he calls a *‘rig” for himself at 20, The “rig?” was two years old; Mr. George Morns, 22, The horse started off at a good trot, Mr. Morris sat suuarely in the middle of the seat. He s-emed happy and tri- umphant. Occasionally he gave a com- placent glance at either of his broad shoulders and ¢ rrected their position by some rule evidently evolved from his position by some rule apparently evolved from his own knowledge. When he bad adjusted each shoulder satisfactorily be leaned back and took a limited but pleased view of both at once. Occa sionally, too, he critically examined a little, straggling pair of side-whiskers, or looked approvingly at his length of limb, Indeed, so weil did he beguile the tame that he was quite unconscious that the long drive was over when he arrived at hisdestination. Well know- ing the way, the horses had turned off from the main road, and entering in a graceful but neglected drive, had drawn up in front of a rambling weather-beat- en villa, There was no servant to take the horse—the time of footmen in that place had gone by-—but the absence might have been considerel well com- pensated for by the appearance of a lit- tle femmine world in muslin who, with an exclamation of delight, had tripped around from the side verandah. “I knew you would come,” she re- peated, when Mr. Morris, after having slowly alighted and fastened the horse, had joined her. “Yes; I thought I would come over, | It’s a mice afternoon, and I thought you might like a ride. Besides, 1 wanted to say good-bye.” “Of course I want to ride, but you must come around here frst and let | themn congratulate you. Remember, I congiatulate you first. You'll remem ber that?” she cried looking at her | heavy companion, ‘‘and 1 said you'd get 1t when you first thought of it.” In this way George was conveyed to the side verandah where were the | family of the house. “So yon are going to West Point?” | said a weary-looking gentleman in loose black. **Very good place for an ener- | getic young man,” and more weary | than ever, apparently, for baving thought of such a thing as energy he | resumed his reading. “Do you think you will like it?” asked the mother, “you will be 80 long away,” and she looked at Dora, the vison in muslin, **Tell us about the | examination.” George would not understand soy | allusiong to Dora, and he had before | determined to take his success in the competitive examination as a matter of course. George always laid | down rules for himself in advance | knowing that in following good au-| thority he could never go astray, Ac- cordingly, he cut description nonchal- antly short. The mother looked dis- | tressed, i “Are you going to ride?” she asked | Dora. Geore arose and fumbled at his dog- | skin gloves, while Dora went for her | hat and her mother sat thinking that at least when George returned from the academy he would have lost some of his ue . i run up for her hat, and now she ran down with her hat, and it was seen at once to be a very captivating young hat, It was one of those tremend- ously captivating hats that are made on- ly for pretty Js, whom kind poverty shields from the unmeauing composition of mullmert Aud wish this hutoad hous ‘ecty adjusted it took up Jlnce n the buggy by the side of Mr. M.’s some- whith oid-tashiched tile, and the two went swaying off together. **Arxe you going to-morrow?” asked ye answered George, rather , “Couldn’t you come over yesterday?’’ “Why rather than Today? “ “What?” said Dora, mystified. “Why come yesterday instead of to- day?” “I don't mean that; I mean both days of course.” Why ‘of courer’” Because, silly child, she believed herself 1n love with this egotistic, mathamatieal Orson, and the ostentatious gloves. And why had George not visited. Do- ra on both days? Simply because he had decided not to, To be sure an antici- pated engagement with Dora was some- thing to be proud of when he was only one of a hundred neighboring farmer's sons, and she the daughter of *‘the had changed all that, Now, in imagi- nation, George saw the worldat hus feet, He was going to be ‘an army officer— ideal of the 1air sex.” must be made in him; superficial alteration he would step from West Point a glorified combina- tion of Chesterfield and La-place, Then a8 he understood a might easily do—he Madison avenue heiress, he had decided not to both days. “I suppose we will write,” said he, keeping his broad face turned from the little lady; and the remark was rather cowardly, inasmuch as he had craftily detegnined to break%fl with her by stopping the correspondence, “You will be my only correspondent” answered Dora, “I used to write my old grandfather, but he doesn’t us now." George had never before heard of any relative, and it was a matter of no in terest anyway, still it was the last day and he could afford to be agreeable. “Ought to write to your grandfather,” he said with what he thought a tine wit: **he might leave you a farm.” “Well, I think he might give papa some out of all he has,” replied Dora, innocently. George thought very poorly of any property this enraged grandfather might possess, He talked of the flelds, the crops, and the cattie-—his style of topic for airy nothings—and after saying, in his clumsy way, that it was getting late, he drove her back, and, with much relief, bade her good-bye atl the gate, A few days, and Mr, George Morris, representing the “Ninth district,” sented himself at the adjutant’s office Vest Point, He blushed, in giving hi description, when asked his father's business, No doubt at that moment the father was thinking anxiously and proudly of him, but choked when he answered ‘‘farmer.,”’ The ad- jutant rewarded him with a look of dis gust for his snobbery, and sent him off under charge of a messenger, The lat- ter conducted him to barracks, and left him at the open door of a lower hall room. George threw back his shoul ders, put the dogskin gloves up to his side whiskers. for moral support, and glanced in. He saw a chipper looking young man in white trousers, gray coat, and a dark-blue cap. The young man, who had a very affable turn to his head, was seated with his back to the door and his feet on an old, yellow table, ““Are you fu charge?” asked George at length, “Yes, yes, sir,’ hastily jumping charge while the you come in?" (reorge made a tered, shi Lay down.” George did both, Then he crossed his legs and waited for the “general.” “Have a smoke ?’’ said the chipper young man, “No, sir.” ““(yame 0’ cards?” “Sir rm “Have a game of card “1 don’t play cards,” “Have a drink?’ “I don't drink,” sald George repress. ively. “Of water 7" continued the polite young man, “If you please,’ “Hydrant’s broke. billiards?” George was silent, ‘1 suppose you are the new secretary would marry a This is why visit Dora on + Lo like a littl & LLLie, pre. (reorge y said the young man, “Yes, sir; I'm in Won't up. general is out. grave bow and en- aside your vallese and sit Have a game of a birdlike way. once— Prince whiskers,” “I am a cadet." “Why, that's puzzling, Prince Al bert coat and side-whiskers; that's the description in the papers. Side-whisk- ers and Prince Albert cont. Confusing. You have side whiskers, **1 recognized yon at Albert coat and side- “Yes,” blurted George, startled. At the end of hall an hour the Ninth district prodigy found his dream of electrifying West Point rudely dissi- pated. “Without exaggeration.” sid the severe, and wishing to give George some worst looking youth that ever entered this institution. you throw back so proudly are also the worst shoulders that I ever saw; they are around than your waist. It was easy to was at the window, and witnessed your overwhelm us, But be less imposing. Go to Room No. 12 and stay there. Don't write the anticipated letter home saying that you have been made a ca. det officer for your physique or an assis. tant professor for your learning. Say that we've got you in a backyard trying to straighten you out, and that John the janitor, is teaching you anthmetic,’ So ended George's long-looked for first day at West Point. But he recov- ered with the elasticity of “conceit from with some astonishment that Dora's grandfather had left her a fortune, and that she with her parents had gone to another state, - When we see George again his tour years at the acaderny were drawing toa close, The mysterious changes that were to convert him into an “‘oflicer and a gentleman,’’ he considered, had He wondered how he awkward and ill-man- nered as he remembered himself, He thought with disgust of the big coat and ugly gloves, But perhaps he was even less a gentleman than ever, for when his father and mother had written that he and *“‘mother'’ were coming (o see him graduate he had written them not to. He said, **You musn’t go to such an expense,” In reality he was ashamed In the season of gayety at West Point George had not been idle. For the to Dora, he now aspired to Miss Ly- man, the sister of his roommate, and he He mother. had had been recommended as a good solid german, elegant proposal with good hope, Young Lyman, rich, handsome, nial—he expected a partner, too; a part- ner who was also rich and handsome, to him at howe, with whom he fell desperately in love on “furlough,” and to whom he was to be married a few days after graduation. I'he day before the ball Miss Lyman and George were walking in front of the library. He was twirling her paro- sol, trying to make himself entertain- ing, wondering if he would ever have courage to say the words he had plan. ned, and thinking, with a cuning smile, what a change there would be in his companion if she knew the sordidness of his early life. While they were 1 ng an old gentleman and lady detache themselves from a group that had just alighted from the stage and came to the flagging. They were looking riousiy about them. “Wonder where he is now?” old gentleman, *‘But we'll him Surprise { sald the him, too—eh? He'll think we won't mind expense when we went and look at our “West Pointer.” “Bless his heart!” said the old lady, juite overcome with the near prospect if eed to come ing “Bless his heart, of course, for here he comes, with a girl dressed like a pic- Don’t say a word—1"11 ' and the old man with his badly- ut clothes, his nervous, gnaried hands, it with a happy beam upon in the Surprise by 118 face, 8 planted himself middle of the walk. teorge looked up as the old man’s head was turned, started, stopped, turned about, and with his companion, walked quickly away, concealiug bim- self behind the parasol. “Come here!’ cried the old gentle. man and running after George, you haven't auy eyes for fathers this afternoon.” “11 come back,” sald George, with ys boiling-red face *'Y ou sit here--1"il back, of course.” *No intrusion, 1 hope.’ said the old man, but with a litte pride in the phrase; “‘no intrusion, I bope, young adv. You goon, George; mother and i wait.” “Guess ‘twas company,” he said slyly, when he returned to his wife, I'he old lady's face was working ner vously. Sbe couldn’t help it—the tears started from her eyes. at dress she had made in George's nonor, at the gloves—her concession to fashiion—at a little satchel in which was money she had been saving ever since (3eorge went to West Point to buy his sword and uniform; she looked at the puzzled old father, who had been anti- wg this visit so long; and so-—she n't help it—the tears did come, HIATNOURY, Hguess Lue She looked $ x 114 the place for us. He isn’t a little boy now, O, If we had only kept him with us. Let us go away and not make him ashamed.” *s Gy 8 a touch of pride. **No; now we're here we'll stay--not be put out by our own We can enjoy a trip, you old sim» guess, the great SON. pleton, 1 ago, before thought of.” George and Miss Lyman walked on in an embarrassed silence. At last the lady's indignation prevailed over her amazement. “i think, Mr. Morris,” she said, haughtily, extending her hand for the parasol, ‘that 1 can find the reat of my and mother George gave her the parasol turned back. His father and were goupe from the library, and he walked towards the barracks, On the “My part. ner has come,” said Lyman; ‘‘she is prettier than ever, Tell me, where is my sister?’ George told him, and con- tinued to his room, knowing that he Presently it came, and Lyman delivered it very “Miss Lyman wishes to excuse herself from being Mr. Mors’ partner at the German.” George made no answer, and his roommate went Then George saw that the world was against him. He cursed the fate that mans for looking down on him, He turned for comfort to people who had been kind to him, He thought of Do. ra, and for the first time felt a sort of pity for her that she had been treated ua he conside.ed Miss Lyman had treats ed him, *Confetnd it,” he smd, fe ning to compare her with other ladies he had seen, *‘she is as fine & iady as any of them, I will find out where she is and go and make it up.’”” As he sat ht he found hime proud of. He remembered how his mother had stood waiting for him to- day; he remembered her dress and every- thiug, and there flashed upon his mind @ picture of her as she must have been at home carefully planning that simple dress and patiently working on it with her own hands for many days to make it worthy of him, Two big tears jumped into his eyes; he made a desperate swallow and seized his cap and started for the hotel on a run. Fathers and mothers are easily won back; half an hour—in less time—the three were walking together toward the famous ball room, “We won’t goin, George,” said the old lady tremblingly ~-he had wanted her to go In, that was enough —and she cned again and said to herself that George was the biggest and the best of them all, George just ordering people around and getting his mother a seat, and when professors who had taught him. be familiar with such splendor, midst of all she exclaimed: there's Doral “Doral” struck. “Why, cried George, thunder- “Dora! Where?” the figure, Just the same as in the old ful—golden-hair, cherry-lips, peach- bloom cheeks—only more beautiful than ever, Her dress was a soft glim- mering white watered satin, and as she timid pearls threw lttle swinging shadows on her cheeks, wish for every step of her flying “Peace be in her true and gentle He watched her through the good feel, heart? seal, and it that there was no prise when he saw that her seal with Lyman. So Dora beautiful partner of the evening, who was man of life, After the hop George met young Ly- man in their room. “You have been finding me out, Lyman, but the same discovery has taken me all my life. If we ever meet again perbaps shall be a different man, They did meet again. It was in New York at the marriage of Miss Gertrude Lyman and Lieut, George Morris, So it was that the last day at West Point he took his first step on the road to being a gentleman. So it was thal not only the bul some* ous change thal changes cut of Prince Albert coats thing else as well oma—————— i ————— Approaching Venlos, Venice 18 not a great ratlroad centre, I think there 1s but one iron road lead- ing there, The train stops at a little wayside station that reminded me of the wild, uncivilized stations =: America. It is hard to belleve thay you are within 8 couple miles of Venlee, Here there is a dreary wail while the italtans, with the calm, unruffled me- thodicalness of a péople with several thousand years of leisure behind them and the same length of time ahead, col- lect the tickets, A railroad ticket is a continual sur- prise to an Italian railroad official, It has always a pleasing novelty for hum, He reads both sides with care and inte- rest. He never punches it. His re- spect for it is too great. Occasionally you have to stop off at big stations and take in the ticket to the chief official, who regards it affectionately, stamps it with care and sometimes writes his au- on it. A person traveling through Italy thus collects ail the auto- graphs of the principal men on the road. When the tickets are collected the train moves slowly on and comes to an ap- parently interminable embankment with the shallow reedy salt waler on each Away to the left appears Venice, The sight is most disappointing. It the classic regions of ie New Jersey marshes or the low land below London. filled, The fact was that these were the water works of Venice, They go out to where a river tumbles over a dam, and shove their boats under the Then they work their way back and empty the water in the locked wells of Venice—land-locked and pad- locked. After the run of a mile or so the train enters the dark station, A person feels sold and oppressed. The place is as romantic as a Chicago treight shed, One feels like taking the next train back, He Is ready and will- ing to write down the famous Queen of the Sea as aswindle, AA ARIAS The Wild Dogs of Wyoming. . Two years ago two domestic dogs strayed into the mountains on the head of Wind River and became wild, They have now increased to some twenty mn trous to the young stock of the ranges, the dogs killing and devouring the ine tans Tee 3 Bor i ng down a ng. w / of the employes of one ult of FASHION NOTES, Jet fringes are shown in more elab- orate designs than ever before, —It 18 a mistake that black has gone by—it never will go out of fash- on, —'The peasant skirt still continues in favor for simple toilets, house dresses and for young girls, — Pointed bodices are the rule for evening dresses, — Yokes and wide collars are coming in again for day wear. Trains are to be once more en regle for all full-dress costumes, —Steel springs are now run in the by fashionable dressmakers., ~The large long mantles are prop- erly reserved for carriage wear, comfort. season and which are so universally | becoming. { ~—A new stuff just brought out is | erocodile cloth, a rough woolen fabric | with an interwoven design resembling a i crocodile’s skin, —A novelty in bustles is of braided wire, which is s0 tempered by a pecu- lar process as to resist the pressure of one hundred pounds, ~—Some of the silk cords much used on outside garments is very expensive and comes as high as §5 per yard. ~{3reek key patterns and graceful i arabesques are in the open passemen- i teres that are made of rosary beads set on velvet or plush, Chenille 18 very much used in mar- tail,” in very fine strands, each tipped { with a bead of wood, jet, gold or acorn, is very popular, - Basques have the same cut as for- merly. They may be single or double- {| breasted, may have ope or two points, or may. be quite long and buttoned all the way down. sides are medium short—a few are shown very short on ithe hips—and the back is either square or pointed, pleated or puffed. A few are fin with wide, flat, ribbon loops, are hi and round, | and is stiffened with buckram, which serves to keep the chin high. ished Collars gh —The dolman is the favorite for dressy | winter wraps. Long cloaks are used for cumfort, Short jackets are shown for ordinary wear for young ladies, { The dolman is almost unchanged in shape, those longer in the front being more popular than any other cut. These garments appear in a vanety of mate- ral and innumerable shades, The front and large sleeves of many are of brocaded plush, while the back is plain | plush or cloth. In wake your doiman according Ww your h and | taste and will be short, clot fashionable, | Fringes in irridescent and jet beads and { furs of various varieties are used in | Ginishing. is is — Wool costumes more popular than those of almost any fabric for street wear. The imported suits are of two distinct styles, The French im- portations show a combination of two | fabrics the overdresses ing made in almost every case of wool. The smooth Amazon cloth for basque, drapery, and jacket, with the skirts and trimmings of the basque of plush or of wool with rough stripes of Aslrakan, make the prettiest suits, —The French costumes are marked by long frout and back draperies, The Sides are drawn up very high so as {| show the skirt material from the waist to the foot, Rich cords are used to lace the two draperies over the hips, Passementene ornaments in jet and variegated beads are used for the same purpose, The apron is laid in flat kilt | pleats presssed into shape, or 1s festoon- ed according to taste, The back dra peries of many French costumes are without loopings, falling in folds to the bottom of the skirt. The high boul. fant effect is still very popular with slender Indies. A long, wide sash made of the dress maternal when not 100 heavy, is added to many costumes when the { back drapery is in straight folds, ~The English homespun cloth has already become very popular, These cloths are shown in all dark, solid co- lors, in small checks and stripes. The material is heavy and will give service- | able wear, although in most cases its | beauty is lacking. The frieze or boucle stripes are most effective for skirts, are be i i | graduated stripes, while friezes with | large stripes of velvet, Astrakan or | plush are in great demand. Suits of { homespun have in some instances a | Norfolk jacket, with belt and hood, for | an outside wrap. The bell, | cuffs and hood of the jacket may be of the same or of some contrasting shade, jacket trimmed with seal or alligator skin, ~Small, neat bounets are preferred by most ladies. These are in all the old shapes; the only really new one is the capote, wade over a frame which comes 1n two pieces and is joined down the back. The pieces of the frame are covered with plush and ribbon of the pleats around the edges. two pieces are then joined, the stitches being hidden in the folds of ribbon. Pleated ribbon is extended around the back and forms the strings. High, full bowsare seen on all bonnets, Strings appear on all imported goods. They are a little than last season, but many ladies the neat throat bows Embroid- ered crowns come in great variety, An affective one is formed of large rosary beads interwoven with chenille, These are used with Sioa costumes, The English turban will be very fashionable for street wear. A preity and graceful hat is the “Evelyn,” with a narrow, round brim and high crown, HORSE NOTES. - Kirkman is reported to have res covered from his lameness, ~Toledo Girl (2.15) has been sold to Eastern parties for $5000, so it is said, { ~The Washington Park entries for | 1886 numbered 530, against 445 this Year, | ——Archer issaid to have been paid | $1500 for riding Paradox in the Chain. | pron stakes, i | ~The Coney Island Jockey Club hag | chosen June 10th as the opening of its 1886 race meeting, | =—~Josh Evans sold last week his fast | mare Lizzie BR. to Mr, Heusbel, of Balt. imore, for $2500, | -—King Midas trotted two miles in | 5.02, last mile in 2.27, at the Brooklyn Driving Park last week, — Miss Woodford has arrived at the {| Runnymede Stud, Paris, Ky., where she will be bred to Hindoo. ~Island Park claims June 15 to 18 | for the spring meeting, and A ugnst 25 to 29 for the grand circuit, 24 ~ Robert Bteel has brought from Kentucky a colt by Calaynos, dam by Onward, a full cister to Wedgewood, 2.194. - Nathan Strauss, owns a b:year-oid Flora Temple. She mile in 1.16} recently. of New York, grandaughter to trottea a half — William M. Deitz, worked the oid white gelding Hopeful a mile in har- pess in 2.34, at New York thus week making the first half in 1.14. —The brood mares find chased by J. B, Hagmn fifte-three head in safely at California, yearlings pur- in Kentucky, all, have arrived —The New Orleans winter race meet- ing will open in December, Applica- tion for stabling room for 124 borses has already been sent in, — Bots caused the death of the 4-year- old stallion Shelby Chief, Jr., by Shelby Chief, at the Stock Farm of his owner, F. San Bowman, near Matamoras, Mex- ico, recently. -—W. E. of Newcastle, Pa., has sold to C. F. McCurdy, of Youngs. town, O., the b-year-old bay gelding Tanzy, by Kentucky Jr., dam by Wild Bashaw, Price, § —D. R. Baird, of Ji has purchased of Mr, son, of brookvilie, Pa., the 3-year oid bay filly Bowena, by Keystone (by Woods’ Hambletonian), dan Molle, by Bed Bank. ~**Brown Dick,” ful traiper t Young, has engaged to train Barnes’ Melbourne stable next year, ~The trotting broodmare Ware, by Almout, dam Ellen, by Er- icsson, the property of 1, L. Dousman, Artesian Stock Farm, Prairie du Chien, Wis,, died on October 6 after giving a filly foal by Lumps. The eis, $ Hender- the BERN VETrY SUOCess- for Mito: W. & Annie birth to foal took kindly to the bottle, and may possibly be saved. Mr, Dousman valued Annie Ware at §2,000, —"The death is aunounced of Hurst, a wellknown Kentucky ting borseman., He pever from his injunes received thrown from a horse last was about 40 years old. —The death of J. C. McFerran, proprietor of the Glenview Stock Farm, about six miles east of Louisville, Ky. removes one of Kentucky s most noted horsemen, Mr. McFerran was the youngest of ten children. ~A. J. Cassatt is likely to import a son of Hermit. He has long indulged a desire for one. While he was in Europe, last season, he priced Tristan, but his owner put him at rather a high figure for an untried horse. Mr, Cassatt dwells upon the soundness of Tristan's legs, which, considering the amount of work the horse has done, are marvels, Mr, Cassatt has a strong fancy for Hermitage, son of Hermit and Doll Tearsheet, by Bormielaw {son of old Queen Mary). He 5 a baby colt, 4 years old, in the stable of Mr, C. J. Lefevre, ‘ ~The Newmarket, Houghton, En- gland, Meeting, opened 26 October, Race for the Criterion Stakes for two. year-olds was won by the Duke of West- minister's bay colt Ormonde, with Mr Manton's bay colt Oberon second, and Prince Saltykoff®s chestout colt Me. phisto third, Six horses started. The betting was 6 to 4 on Ormonde, § to 1 against Oberon, and § to 1 against Me- | phisto. —ctober 27th was the first day of the Second Autumn Meeting of the Amer ican Jocky Club at Jerome Park. The | first race was for all ages, purse $500, non-winners’ allowance six furlongs, | It was won by Jim Douglass, with Weasel second and Florence E. thad. | Time 1.19, Second Race, — Handicap sweepstakes of $35 each, with §750 added, $150 to | second horse; one mile, Fosteral won, | Greenfield second, Bella third. ~The races on October Z0th were !ran in a steady down-pour of rain at | Jerome Park. An unforianate acci- | "ent occured in the first race, After { the start the thirteen horses engaged | in the contest ran to the turn around | the elub house, when Maggie J, with oung Potter on, slipped and fell. rookwood, with Meaton on, fell over Jrvant rot- recovered by being spring. He g for a few mo- ments, till horses and riders were ex- tricated, Then it was found thet Potter
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