The June Cricket. Tented in the short green grass, While the moon shone in the sky, A cricket, close to those who pass, Uttered the old familiar ery. Little heeded he the noise Of the crowded ¢ity street, But blew his flute with strident voice Unmindful of the tramp of feet, Hundreds briskly hurry by, Listless to the song they pass; No policeman stops his ory, Or orders him “Keep off the grassl’ 1 who note the steady tune That he with such relish plays, Wonder how this note of June Came to take the city ways, Far from native haunts withdrawn, He sings the old song at my feet— The prelude of & country lawn Salutes the curious city street. Rustic scenes are not at hand; No nippling rivulet wanders near: Hard is it to understand This volee in such an atmosphere. Brave little cricket, pipe away; Let your blitheness melt in song! "Tis the cheenest roundelay; 1 shall thank you for it long. Torn from spring-time robbed of June, Shut up to the city street, Much I thank you for your tune Uttered from this strange retreat. A PLAIN STORY. “An’ next week I'll finish up them puffs, an’ then I’ll wash that woolen wrapper for Calista, an’ that'll be done, n remorselessly wrung the water from her cloth, and hanging the dish-pan on a nail, vigorously rubbed out the sink with a bit of flannel mnois- tened with kerosene, There was no one had a habit of thinking aloud, just as for forty years, It was like some one what she thought, or what she saw, or did, or heard. As she step- ped briskly across the kitchen floor a voice from the back roem called. “Sister!” The squeak in Miss Jane's shoes gasp- ed helplessly, and then died. “Well?” said she, interrogatively. “Are you going out?”’ “Only jes’ to hang these dish-rags on the fence. What 1s it?” “1711 wait till you come back,’ said the voice, and the old rocking-chair re- sumed its creechy-crawch, and Miss Jane's shoes tapped a little more briskly than before, for a minute had gone out of her lifetime while she waited to hear what her sister had to say. ‘‘Looks kind o'ketehin’,” she muttered, spread- ing her towels on the picket fence, and tipping back her head to squint one eye at a small black cloud that was creep- ing up from the hor zon. “1 b'lieve I must try for another mess’ 0’ them strawberries, though; there's nothin’ makes so rich sauce for me,” and Mss the cellar door, where they had been lazily sunning themselves since five o'clock in the morning. and went in, She announced herself as “goin’ down to the son’west corner o’ the back pas- tur’,” when she appeared at the back- room door a few minutes later, tying a calico sunbonnet under her chin; *‘that is,” she added, “if you didn’t want nothin’ that you wanted me to keep in for.” The old rocking-chair creaked nerv- ously a few times, and Calista’s fingers trembled as she tried to coax the thread into the eye of the needle. Miss Jane waited. dle, and drew a long breath. “Do you remember, sister: what the minister's wife was saying yesterday?’ “ A bout that slack piece, Sereny Jack- son, going to be married? Can't make a pudding saucel Not that Miss Chand- ler said anything about that, but lal don’t 1 know the whole kit?” “No, not that, sister, What she said about the poor children coming out into the country for a little vacation. Oh, sister, I laid and thought last night’’— Calista choked a little, and then she spoke out bravely-—*‘I've been thinking why couldn’t we take one for the two weeks?’ The shot was fired now, and the half- frightened gunner waited for the smoke to clear away before sbe could reckon the effect on the enemy. Miss Jane, who stood for the enemy in this case, certainly wasn't dead, but it was equal- ly certain she was pretty well stunned. a little after a few minutes, ‘I badn’t thought nothing about it, an’ I don't believe you could stan’ it one day an’ night, Calista;”’ and this tiny plant of an objection being well sprouted, it grew with a rapidity that almost amazed the cultivator herself, and Calista was informed tha. such “a yonng one bein’ uneddicated and unmannered, would bang up the dishes, eat the preserves, smash the eggs and kill the chickens, worry the cat, and finally ery nights for its mother, if it bas one, which I shouldn’t surprised if it hadn’t,” added the good woman, grimly. ‘‘An’ it's two chances to one but 'twould be a foreigner when we got it, and sarsy at that; for you know, Calista, as well as | do, that a good part of the city is made up of foreigners—one kind and an- other.” Miss Jane had emptied her quiver, and , but Calista was running her needle slowly through the block of pink print, as if every arrow had flown over head, She laid her work on her knee now, and looked through the window away to the blue hills that melted into the hori zon. ‘I didn’t sleep much last night,”’ she said, gently—a shade stole over Miss Jane's sharp face, but Calista went on, quietly—"and I thought, as 1 laid in my good clean bed, just as the hght was coming, and heard the birds sing- ing everywhere, and the lay-locks brushed against the window, and they smelled so pretty—I thought how Mis’ Chandler said some of them dear little things never smelt a a8 seen any The voice Yose, Nor 80 much sald, “I'll think it over, and-—we’ll sea,” “Dear Lord, do Thou be m her thoughts,” silently prayed the sister left at home, but she only said, cheerily, as Miss Jane's shoes ereaked out across the kitchen fioor: “They're the Lord’s little ones, you know,” but Miss Jane vouch- safed no reply. “Never saw no grass.’ she sniffed, rubbing her nose, “What nonsense! as much grass as there 18 In the world! An’ I won't have 4 Sarsy young one here,’’ shons trod energetically over the short, crisp grass and crushed the fragrant pennyroval, she found herself wonder- ing vaguely how it would seem if this were the first time, No one but herself and her God knew of the warfare that went on the southwest pasture that afternoon, but Calista knew who had the victory when they sat down to their five o'clock supper. But she sad nothing. And even after the dishes were washed and and sald, after a little hesitation, that she guessed she'd run over to the min- ister’'s and tell him *if he can ketch hold of a likely little girl, we’ll try an’ git along with her two weeks’ '—even : then Calista only said: ** Well, 1 would, sister. A little girl wouldn't be so | likely.” { But after Miss Jane had gone on her i errand Calista went into her bedroom { and shut the door. Sue had entered | into her closet. she trudged away was: fisa pig, Lord, help me not to squeal ! and knock over my vittles every time I can’t have em to suit me.” And she | backed up her prayers by her deeds, Twenty years ago Calista had closed the eyes of her husband, young Lieuten- ant John Emmons, in a Southern hos- pital. She stayed with the sick and wounded two years longer, and then came home with the malaria that made | her an valid for life, Jane Sewall had heard, as her neigh. | bors had, that Alcander Merrill was aliot through the head as he flung him- | line of the pen at Andersonville; but { there had been no engagement announ- ced between them, blooming apple trees the night before would wait until he came back, and after his death it was whispered about that he had been “kind o’ shining up to Jane Sewall,’”’ and the postmaster was sure *‘*he had wrote to her; but modesty of the New England village would have been shocked if she had pre. sumed to openly mourn for him, And s0 the sorrow that flowed from Calista's wound leaving it sweet and ready for and formed crust that few broke through. she and Calista lived comfortably on the old place with a little money and Calista’s pension; and though their lives might not lie in the sunshine, and the light was subdued, it was tender, not gloomy, and the only real shadow that darkened the path was the dread that sometimes thrust itself forward that one | might be left alone, The fatal Tuesday, would have expressed it, came and | found Miss Jane frying so many dough- nuts that Calista sald, laughingly, she must be expecting a boy, after all; but they are both surprised when the minis. | tar stopped al the door with a boy in his wagon, “I sad a girl,” said Miss Jane, em- | phatically, meeting the minister on the door-step. “] know you did, Miss Sewall, { know vem did,” said the good man, “but now I'll tell you how it is. This boy has brought a dog with him" Miss a | ness—**and nobody wants him. He ! brought the dog aboard the boat in that pasteboard box, and there he's kept him | till somebody caught him putting in | part of his luncheon for the little crea- | ture to eat. He cut holes in the box so keep still, and the knowing little thing | hasn’t made a sound since they started jast night, The boy sald he was afraid | to leave him for fear he would be abused { or lost.” Miss there, “I can’t say I blame you, though, for not wanting aboy,’’ he continued, **and | I'll see if we can’t stow him away some- | where with ours.” Miss Jane caught a glimpse of Calis- ta’s face, Jane's face. He read nothing can’t have everything your way," said | she to herself, and *“*Stop,” said she to the minister; “bring him in.” “1 hope you will never regret it,’ said the minister, shaking hands when he went away. Jane ina tone that sad “I know I shally’? but Mr, Chandler, was used to a lack of faith. and he rode away, leaving the boy; with the box under his arm, standing on the broad, flat door-stone, in the morning sunshine, Miss Jane sald she ‘“‘never did see such a fool for a boy that seemed to have wit, too,” as the days wore away: ana he asked her ‘‘what held up the stone wall’’ that fenced the pasture across the road, or wandered that ras. berries grew on bushes, or puzzled at the connection between the hea or the nest and the egg found in there after ward, Miss Jane was, as she said, really “nonplussed at such ignorance.'’ The dog, Snap, proved to be a harm: | less littie ragged-hased thing, who paid great respect to the enormous yellow. and-white cat Sarah, and moliified her mistress by catching the rats the lazy Sarah had allowed to gambol about the barn almost under her nose, Quite a friendship grew between Ca lista and Jack for he loved to listen to her stories of the war, though he never hesitated to tell her when he thought highway of of imagina- 1" Georgia” apd “Annie Laurie,” and Jack rattled them off, while Calista hummed them in a soft little voice, an accompaniment balf a measure ahead or pehind, as it happened. Miss Jane paid little heed, apparently, to the boy, bat it was not Calista who crept up and murmured: ‘If he had lived,” and then blushed hotly alone in the dark at what seemed, to her rigid creed, almost a sin for the unwed to think of wife- hood or motherhood, even though it might never be, The second week of Jack's stay was extremely sultry, and one night in a terrible shower, Calista was taken with { one of the attacks of illness that had { hung about her ever since her Southern campaign. As Miss Jane hurriedly prepared the looked in at the door. “Sick, bain't she?” “Ohi The house shook as a peal of thunder, like the boom of guns cracked about it, and Miss Jane cried out, for the bottle fell from her hand and shattered on the floor, “Hain't ye got no he whispered, more?” | the doctor’s. I know where the doctor | lives,’ { Miss Jane didn’t answer, | It would be dire cruelty to send that | morsel of humanity out in such a storm, but Calista — | Before she could collect her thoughts i the rain beat heavily in at the open door, and Jack was gone. she sprang out to call after him to go | by the road and not by the stepping- i stones; but the wind rushed round the house and carried her words away, and Jack with Soap at his heels, had swallowed up by the night, Jack had been in Stoneham long enough to know i that it was a half mile to Dr. Mcln- tyre's by the road, while the path that led on the stepping-stones across Mad Brook was only half as far, | “We'll goover the steppin’stones, for may be she’s a-dyin’,” said Jack to | 1 i | howl as they fled down the path, Dr. Melnlyre was sick himself, and young Dr, Harry bad driven off to Bo- badil to set a man’s leg, but Mrs, | Woodbury, the housekeeper, and the old doctor together put up the medicine { which, as Mra, Woodbury said, ‘always fetched Mrs, Emmons right round | when she had them spells; but I'm afraid you'll tumble down and spill it, you poor little dear,” the kind woman added, Jack from his the bottle fast to Suap's neck. “He can’t tumble down,” sald the master, but Mrs. Woodbury was only divided as to the risks Nothing better presented itself, how- ever, so she dubiously rolled the pow- ders in a bit of oiled milk, and started the two homeward, with very little hope the medicine would reach there, if the boy and dog did. Mad Brook was roaring when the dog reached it, foaming over the stepping- ‘stones, but the moon was struggling now, and showed a tree blown across from bank to bank, “Keep close to me, old fellow," said Jack, starting nimbly across, Almost over, a dead branch snapped, and Jack i fell. He caught alimb with each hand, | and drew himself out of the water; but the boughs swayed and creaked, and | threatened to break, and Jack dare | trust them no further. *She's got to have the ’'potecary stuff.’? he said, pulling the roll out of pulled a dirty plece of string out | one hand, “Here, Soap, take it an’ go home.’’ Snap howled, | peated the command, and Snap trotted | to the shore, laid down his bundle and | howled again. | ‘Go home,” repeated Jack, in his | sternest tone, and Jack's word was law ing, laid it at Muss Jane's feet, as she | opened the door for perhaps the hun- | dredeh time to look and listen. i With trembling hand she bundle and untied the bottle, and, as Calista’s agony was relieved, with a | terror of she knew not what, she sped | fair and smiling, peeped over the hills | “She's a livin’?"" called a feeble voice | from the water. {but she marghed straight into the | brook, and, taking Jack in her arms, { put him on the ground. {| “I coulad’t hold much longer,” said | he, and dropped at her feet, Two or three days afterward the min. | ister came round to ask if Jack would {be ready to go back with the other children, **No,” said Miss Jane, ab- rupily: “I can’t let him go, and Calis | ta, she wants him, an’ we'll keep him a | spell longer. I guess by what he tells i me about his aunt he lives with, there won't be any trouble there.” “Bless the Lord, mister!” said the minister earnestly. He had heard the story of Mad Brook. This spring Miss Jane, with a beam- ing face, put down her name for four children to spend two weeks with her. “Jack and Calista will enjoy it,” said she, apologetically. “How about Snap?’ laughed the minister, “There, ain't he the knowin'est little thing you ever saw?" exclaimed Miss Jane, with enthusiasm, and the mins. ter assented; and she walked homes murmuring: “What a mess o° vittla, you'd ’a’ upset, Jane Sowall, if the Lord had let you had your own way. During 1883 the Mining Office of Finland reports that the quantity of iron ores ralsed from the mines was small, but from the Finnish lakes and bogs not less than 38,000 tons were raised, at a cost of about $50,000, There were twenty-six furnaces in the country, of which fourteen were in blast, returning about 18.000 tons of pig iron, for the manufacture of which were used ing tons of bog and works is estimated at 17,000, Patchouly 18 supposed to be the most permanent of all odors, The Taio pars of Tn November's Evening Skies, November is not so fruitful in nei. | dents as many of the preceding months { of the now fleeting year, She presents, | a8 proininent In Importance, the Opposi- in size among the brotherhood draws {and gives the telescopist a chance | find out something new concerning the | great sphere that, in terrestial view, | looks like a tiny ball, {to nearly a hundred planets like the | earth piled upon each other. Novem- { glows on the celestial canvas, that of | as the fair evening s'ar, deigning to | peared, and growing more bewitchingly | beautiful as the shadows gather, until { her turn comes to descend below the | western hills, Saturn 18 another gem in the November sky. | his smaling face in the small hours of the | morning, and Mercury may be seen in | fitful phase as the month draws to a { close. November holds the exclusive right to one unfailing source of inte- | rest, when, on the 13th, and the day | before and after, the earth plunges | headlong through the November met-or zone, | mentioned will find proof of the passage | in a few stray meteors, radiating from | the constellation Leo, and set on fire by | a concussion with the earth’s atmoe- | phere, | by the earth encountering a swarm of its orbit. not equally scattered, and the earth meets the densest portion once in 334 | years, sage. and the grandeur of seribable, records give accounts of grand | meteoric showers, Humboldt witness. od a wonderful shower 1790, A great shower was seen in IR 13 occurred in 1866-7, and one is coufi- dently expected in 1809. Leverrier thus The heavens seem Lo be on fire, these in zone in the system. As far back as the year 126 of our era Uranus captured a meterorie comet and imprisoned it by his attractive power within domain. It has a period of | The orbit crosses the earth's orbit al a { point passed by our planet on the 13th lof November. and extends beyond the | orbit of Uranus, grating and extending over the whole zone, this occurs ages the grand dis- plays will cease and "he comet 1s disinte- hence encounter a more populous portion of be more abundant The best time for observing the Leon- 1ls, as they are called, 18 about Jo'clock in the morning, when the constellation Leo is nearly halfway bet ween the east- ern horizon and the zenith. ———— - In the Country Lawyer's Office. He wanted justice, that in his eves afar off He didn't coarse brown paper, but he wanted jus- ti by the car load and at wholesale | rates. He hitched his old white horse and dilapidated buggy in front of the up outside to the second story, and his sign on the door: ‘‘George Boxem, At- | torney at Law.” The lawyer was in, | 80 were a two-dollar desk, two fifteen | cent chairs, a huge cuspidor, and a i rusty stove, “Morning.” “ Morning." “I'm Jim White, sir. Live out by | Gray’s Corners. Bought the Tompkins | farm, you know." i “AhM “Skinner fines farms with me, His 1 want dama- | steers get into my corn. I turn my | ges, but he laughs at me. | hogs into his "tater patch.” “Good! 1 hike a man of spunk.” “And he kills one of "em." “What!” “He kills a hog worth two dollars.” “You don’t savl Well, that man | ought to be made to understand that he | doesn’t own this county, | rage! Bave you demanded pay?" “Oh, yes, and he said he'd like to shoot me.” “Is it possible? Why, he’s a danger- ous man, very dangerous, ”’ “1 came to ask you ifeif a’? “Why, of course yot have the best kind of a case against him, and it is your duty to push it.” “Yes, 1 want justice, but how—how much willow? “Oh, the cost will be nothing. Just leave me $5 as a retainer and we'll make Skinner sweat, I haven’t heard of such ap outrage for years. He probably reasons that you are chicken- hearted and afraid of him “Well, bell find that the Whites have as much grit as the Skinners,” “And as munch money to law with?” “You bet!” “That's the talk! We'll make him a very sick man Your case appeals to me as a citizen as well as a lawyer. Now, we'll secure a warrant as a start- ar. Skinner visits the other lawyer in the same village, and the comversation Is about the same, White gets a warrant for Skinner, and Skinner wets a war- rant for White, First year—T wo adjournments, a dis- agreement, twenty-four days lost time, and ca ash expense of $58 to each far- mer, Second year-Three trials, one disa- greement, four: adjournments, one ap- , and a cash expense of to each hy Fins lot thirt, ve days. two decisions, and two farms pass into the hands of two lawyers, fi Aa PATI — HORSE NOTES FASHION NOTES. —Broad-striped materials worn under ~John Splan will winter in Boston. | poaices and tunics of plain textiles are —W, C. Prance has sold Lowden, ein in high vogue, 2.204. | —Featherstriped woolen novelly ~Mr, Johnson has purchased the ch, | goods are not really striped with feath- | ers but with a silken cashmere goat's. | hair textile . 4 » | ~—Green Morris will winter this year | hatiz textile of great beauty aad dura at Mobile, Ala., Instead of at Charles- | lity. | ton, ¢lalining that the latter city is too | | m. Mamie B. for Boston parties. —There are few fabrics that combine | war, ~The b, gaJudge Parsons (2.264) and { Little Fred (2.204), the property of | Abraham Barker, of Albany, are being driven as a team, ~— Frees Knight, half brother to Free. | land, is already spoken of as a likely candidate to carry off the American | Derby next year at Chicago. | —A ten-mile trotting match, for $50 | a side, took place on the highway near | Sheflield, Eng., October 8, Early Morn | winning easily in 40 m. 234 8. | «~The trotting stallions Messenger | Chief and Rienzi, owned by George A. | Singerly, are now in charge of the Ma. | cey Brothers at Versailles, Kentucky, | Charles Schwartz, of Chicago, has {| gone to New York with his team Ade- | laide and Charley Hogan. The pair {| were driven a mile in 2.304 just after | arriving. | black m. Inez, 2.22}. by Sweepstakes, | dam by Kentucky Bertram, from W. | C. Trimble, of Newbargh, N. Y., to use as a mate for Cornelia, 2.214. — Phyllis has just completed a re- markable season's work, She has cam- paigned for a whole year, appearing on most of the principal tracks between | Texas and Massachusetts, | ~The rule disqualifying a horse when his jockey dismounts without obtaining permission from the judges is a bad one, and is likely to be changed, ~The celebrated race-horse St, Blaze, | owned by Mr, Augustus Belmont, ar- | rived recently at New York on steamer Holland from London. animal is in splendid condition, | —Miss Russell, the dam of Maud S| has again been bred to Belmont, Her | last foal, the gr. ¢. Pilot Russell, has | suffered considerably from distemper, and is still ranning with ils dam, —~Onward (2.201), by Knigkerbocker dam by Reserve, has been sold to Mr, Hall, of B | Hotel and the Adams House, stated abont $4000, which what was paid for him last year, ~—Maxey Cobb and Neta were twice speeded at New York re cently. On the firs al Was made 1n 2.274, and 2 was reeled off a day or two later, mmy Dustin gone to Kentucky quarters for the team. a fast Pric is ¥ 3 # 3 iB RUOUUN or the mie g 2% ’ = : The pair will wd at Louis. oi 1 € re { be driven for rec ville, —A 18-year-old brown Woodford Mambrino, dam Midmght, | the dam of Jav-Eve-See, is used on U) | farm at the Woodburn Stud, ting lineage was discovered after joints had been stiff I ihe girol- his sped by hard work | be worth a fortune for the stud, ~The Third Annual | the National Horse Show was opened on the 3d at Square Garden under favorable auspi- ‘ces, There was a large | visitors and there were many | For four-year-old stallions A. J. gatt. of Haverford College, the first prize, $200. The seSond prize, Cas of Owen Sound, Canada, | second prize, $50, to Peter Doolger, of | Philada.,., For four-vear-oid | ed to C, J, Hamilton, of Buffalo, N. Y. {and the second prize, $50, to R. B | Wallace, of Philadelphia, | trampled on in a race at Jerome Park | more of the best qualities of woolen | goods than the woolen serges, They are durable, ladylike, and just now very popular, | ~All medium shades of dark and | pale green are fushionable—reseda, sage, cress, ChArtreuse, olive, Russian or bottle or invisible green, bronze and even pea green, { ~The newest stockings have the feet, ankles and half-way the calf in solid color, the upper half in contrasting | color, sometimes striped, again barred, and frequently plain, but in color of | a sharp contrast to the lower half of the | hose. —A stylish cloth costume is made in i this way: The overskirt is mounted in wide, flat plaits in front, while Lhe back is draped. The jacket is open in front, being turned back on aither side, show- ing a chemisette of silk to match or of | 8 contrasting color, Tinsel is a steadily increasing ele- ment in millinery decoration. Tinsel plush, where shining lines of gill or silver lie imbedded, is shown in endless { designs and rich colorings, and heavy | tinsel and chenille cordings, bands and soft, rich networks are among Lhe very recent importations, —A promenade serge gown has a plaited skirt, draped overskirt and bod- ieee of navy-blue serge trimmed. with red mohair braid. Another is made up of woolen check, The skirt, which is full, is otherwise perfectly plain. The tunic is draped en pannier, with pouf behind. A sash of ribbon matehing the nd or predominating color of the eck fall It has a gathu- ed plastron, and collar and cuffs of 1 — A white | square train, he breadihs are of gol by a frill of gold bodice has folds of the silk laid on either side of the pointed opening, hich, as well as the elbow sleeves, is filled with Duchesse lace under a frill of gold lace. Broad while and brocaded ends, edged with gold lace, fall from beneath the bodice al the left grou cl Is at the side. o utine robe has a loose front and side d brocade, bordered Ibe pointed lace, 3 . in loops side. live-green faille francaise re. full draped apron The back drapery is long and showing a plush panel al one The is of plush of the same shade, with a full plastron of Taille bordered with olive green | lace, interwoven with threads of dull gold. The sleeves have folds of the silk covered with a full {rill of the woolen ~The muffs in fashion plates are © bodice | francaise, Wir face, the newest French scentricily itself, Some are gathered at 1 ends 30 that they look like muskmelons; some ap- pear to be drawn together in the center and flare open so as to seem like lwo fans fasteved together under a ribbon; some are hooped like a barrel; ang one, otherwise simple is ornamented Ly a bow of ribbon from which depemdsa shield with armorial bearings. | Blanket wrappers, made of woolen stuffs such as never yel on sea or shore were used for blankets, however art fully they may imitate them in the bands of coloring used for trimming, appear in great heaps on the diy goods counters. They are pretty and make i good winter dressing gowns, and alse | ‘fire gowns like that described by ! Mrs, Whitney in “We Girls,” — Late ideas Introduce styles of bon. nels that compare agreeably with the heavy blanket fabres, Fur felt. fine moleskin, plush and felt bonuets add the finishing harmony to the aunticipa- ted heavy winter toilets which consist of bison homespuns, rough (willed he | weight jockey of the Dwyer Bros.’ sta other described fabrics, The nbbons partake of the general shaggmess in imitation of bands of Astrakan, and others of frise velvet, striped wool and and very promising jockey, | day's racing at Jerome Park on Thurs. day was given for the benefit of Mrs, Potter. The net receipts werd about $4000, ~ Another change has taken place in Rancocas affairs. As 18 well known, Mr, Pierre Lorillard over a year since special partner in his racing enterprises, and, in the event of bis death, to become sole proprietor of Rancocas. Bug, while young Mr, Lorillard attended the races, he never seemed to enter into the spirit of breeding and racing. As Mr. Lorillard once said to us: “My son Griswold is interested with me in the stable, but somehow he doesn’t take to racing as I thought he would, He inclines rather toward pony racing, po lo playing, ete. My son Plerre, on the other hand, is too enthusiastiz a turl- man, I often think it would be better if he were associated with me. Griswold is willing that such an arrangement be made.” We believe the change has been made. Mr. Griswold Lorillasd has goné on an extended tour of the world, in company with some friends He has, or will if he has not already, withdrawn from the racing enterprise, An arrangement will be made whereby, if the elder son, erre Lorillard, Jr. does not actually become heir to Rane cocas, he will be made trustees for his little son, the third Pierre Lorillard, now 4 years of age, who is the future Master of Rancocas, Mr. Pierre Lor- illard, Sr., is very proud of Rancooas, He desires that it shall remain linked with his posterity, and maintained in all its ony Hos little grandson is the sixth of the nam»; he ly shows the sporting instinot in his for and the friends of the may rest i 0 of the Lorillards 1s de Ty for a one long and glorious yellow other soft, thin wool ribbons with edges of narrow plush, velvel or heavy silk. hese ribbons are set in long loops from the crown drooping over to the brim, with the addition of two or three quill | feathers, or an ornament of metal, | wings of fanciful feathers that lose their identity beneath the weight of { beads or glittering silver or gold incru- stations, Imitation cat-tails and pyra- | pndal grasses are used for this stifi { style of trimming. especially for the high-crowned toques and turbans. | Theve are some models of mingled fab | ries, as a velvet bonnet of beaver brown { with a slashed brim coverad with three {or four folds of heavy moleskin plush | of a aarker shade; the stringsare brown | satin with picot edge; a large nondescrip | bird sits with folded wings on top just | where the folds meet in a nest of long | velvet loops. Heavy bonnets of plush {are decorated with several rows of | carved wooden beads placed around the | wage and brightened with a cluster of | rouge, pansy-colored, and asparagus. i creen and Iudian-red feathers on top. | The Astrakan cloth bonnets are seen | with the Alpine crowns, high round | crowns, aud horseshoe crowns; small | shapes covered with one fabric, asa charge from the mixed are narrow aod the horseshod crown fr . either simulated with beads or the crown itself takes that shape. The ems poiderad cloth bonnets take OK aver the other wool styles ends not only with the richest cost cloth costumes,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers