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