#
Coming Into Port,
I have weathered the coming cape of storms
‘Where the winds of passion blow;
I have sheered by the reefs That lash to
foam
The shallows they Inrk below;
Ihave joyed in the surge of the whistling
sea,
And the wild strong strees of the gale,
As my brave bark
alive,
To the strain of 11s crowdad sail,
Then the masterful spirit was on ms,
And with Nature [ wrestied glad;
And danger was like a passionate bride,
And Love itself was half mad.
Then Life was a storm that blew me on,
And flew as the wild winds fly;
And Hope was a peunon streaming out,
High up—to play with the sky.
Oh, the golden days, the glorious days
That so lavish of life we spent!
stars
Neath the sky's mysterious tent!
Oh, the light, light heart and the strong de-
sire,
And the pulse’s quickening thrill,
When Joy lived with us and
smiled,
The vouth had its free, fall willl
The whole wide world was before us then,
And never our spirits failed.
And we never looked back, but onward,
onward,
Into the Future we sailed,
Ever before us the far horizon
Whose dim and exquisite line
Alone divided our earth from Heaven,
Qur Life from a Life divine,
Beauty
Now my voyage is well-nigh over,
And my staunchest spars are gone;
And my sails are rent and my barnacied
bark
Drags slowly and Reavily on,
The faint breeze comes from
shore
With its odor dim and sweet,
And soon in the silent harbor of peaco
Long-parted friends I shall greet.
"he voyage nigh over,
Though at times a capfal
Will rattle the ropes and fill the
And furrow a wake behind.
And the sea has becom: r
And glad into port 1 :
With my turled and my anchor
dropped
And my cargo carris
RR HE SIRT IE
distant
the
iI8 well
15%
sails all
home,
wl ao
“You will care for my child
wilt not let my little one sufle
My old friend i
nd eoliege chum, John
Harmon said this as he wrung my hand,
I repeated my promise that in my own
home-nest, where there was a nursery
full of little ones, Sasie Harmon should
hold as daughter's place,
We were standing on the wharf
waiting for the signal that it was time
for my friend to step aboard aa out
going California steamer. He had lost
his wife within the year, and soon after
was beggared by a fire that totally de
stroyed cott mills in which he
had held the position of superintendent
for ten years, With his home desolate,
his purse empty, he resolved, as many
as man had done before him, to seek his
fortunes in the modern El Dorado, and
dig for gold in her mines,
The only drawback to this scheme
was the difficulty of taking his 3 year
old daughter, who had been in the care
of hired nurses since her mother died,
i, who shared every thought of John's
mind, talked with my wife, and found
her eagerly willing to take care of the
little one.
“I am sure I loved Mary as well as
you love John,” she said, *‘and there 1s
no one who can have a stronger claim
upon the child than we have.”
So, sure of her cordial welcome in our
nursery, 1 made John the offer ot a
home for his little one, and it was ac
cepted as lovingly as it was offered
This care removed, my friend hastened
his preparations for departure, and I
sccompanied him to New York and saw
him ofl,
The next morning I returned home to
find Busie almost incensolable, erving
perpetually for ‘papa to come to Susie,’
My wife was distracted at the failure
to comfort this childish sorrow, and our
own three children looked on wonder-
ingly at —
**Nanghty Susie, who eried and cried,
after mamma told her to be quiet.”
n
the
Lic
marriage and the gentle wife and
mother so early called to heaven,
She dearly loved those talks, and no
memories were more precious than my
ing from her, and his desire to win
Time softened Busie's grief, and at
winning girls I ever met. Without
She
and Will at
It would take me quite too long to
from us
He fussed about the
in a vervous way, quite unlike
“Father, you have often said Susie is
dren.”
I looked np amazed at this opening
seeing me, to snuggle in my arms when
I talked to John, to associate me with
her father, and she aliowed me to com-
fort her. In time this violent grief
wore away, and the child became very
happy in ourcare My business, that
tional expense of the child's support a
burden; and as the years wore by, she
But she understood always that she
who loved her fondiy, and was away
her. As roou as she was old ough
she had ner father’s letters read Yo her,
and her first efforts al penmanship were
letters to “papa.”
counting his varying success, sometimes
sending money to buy presents for
Susie. He was winning fortune slowly,
not at the mines, where his health broke
down, but in the employ of a San Fran-
ciseo merchant, and some specuiations
in real estate,
He was pot a rich man, he wrote,
pering, when he purposed paying os a
“Wali?” 1 asked.
“Will you make her your daughter in
fact by giving her to me for a wife?”
Dear! Dear!
blind. Susie
much one of onr children
much astonished as if
fallen in love with Joanua,
dat I soon fonud, when Susie's blush-
ing face was hidden upou my breast,
that too, had given away
beart, and I was only too well pleased
that no stranger had won the precious
He
In Beptember they were married, my
of
begome so
that I was
Atbart had
had in truth
ns
she, her
4
child Our a loption, and
next our own for a
ed ideas about
r it 18 better
I gave them a house
owe, having old-fashion
i
young msrried p
and
such matters, belley
for
all
cople to hive
housekeeping
assume B
CAres,
The pew home was a gem of neatness
Susie's daint and the
it of 1 ve kept it ever bright.
been brother and sister for
s Albert and Susie ¢
y understood each other's
, and 1 have
happiness m
fing
¢8 MOgers,
&1
ariect io
80
VEeRrs or.
disg {
known do-
perfect An
tions never
ie
#4
LAA
mestio ti
heirs,
child, namped for
Harmon, was two
when one morning the mail brought
a letter 10 an unknown hand from
I opened it, and npon a
heet of paper found written, in a
sorawiiog hand, these lines:
“Dear Sin: Will you come to me at
47 M —— street without letting Susie
Jonas Hanus"
first 1 believed it a hoax
had written a bold, clerk-like hand,
ciear as print. This was a scrawl,
straggling all over the paper, uneven as
the first penmanship of a little child
But tke more 1 pondered over
matter, the more | was ined to obey
the summons. So pleading business,
saying nothing of the letter to any one,
I left home by the night train for Cin.
cinnati,
No. 47 M ———street, I found to be a
boarding-house for the poorest classes,
and 1u a shabby room. half faraished,
I found an aged, worn man, perfectly
blind, who rose to greet me, sobbing
“Fred, 1 knew you wonid come,”
“Why, old friend.” I said, when sur.
prise aod emotion would let me speak,
“how is this? We thought you were
dead.” 2
**Does Sasie think so?”
“Yes. We all gave youup.”
“Do not undeceive her, Fred, 1
meant to come home to her rich, able
to gratify every desire of her girlish
heart, Do not let her know that only a
blind, sick wreck
father, Tell me of her, Fred,
well? Is she happy?”
**She is both, John
mother,’
“Marned!
Susie's first
father
her
YOATrS
old,
6%
koow,
At
John
&
the
%
Fvyanl
10a;
or
»
ls ahd
My little Susie?”
you may jndge when I teil you folks
say he is his father over again.”
“1 would ask no more for my child ”
said John, >
Then in answer to my auxions ques
tious, he told me of the years of silence,
He was prepared to pay us his promised
visit when a great fire broke out in
i
!
bad vested all his savings, Worst of
all, in trying to save the books of the
firm, John was injured ou the head by
hospital, When he so far recovered as
impaired, and he could not perform the
leading us to expect to see him, Then
his letters ceased, and he did not come,
I wrote again and again. Susie wrote,
No answer came to either one or the
other, We did not know the name of
his employer, and after nearly two years
more passed we sadiy thought be must
be dead,
it might have seemed to many, un-
pataral for Same to grieve so deeply as
she did for a father almost ankuown lo
ber in reality, but she was a gir! of
most sensitive feelings, with » tender.
jeving heart, and we had always kept
her father’s name before her, striving
to win him a place in her fondest aflec.
tion, That we had succeeded only too
well was shown by her sorrow when
week after week passed, and there was
er ea a.
we really lout all t
to sit be-
ain for
became Busie’s great pleasure
side me and ask me again and
the stories [ remembered of ber Iather's
boyhood and youth, his college our
:
§
i
labor,
*1 struggled for daily bread alone,
Fred,” he told me, *‘and when I re.
ceived your loving letters, and Susie's,
1 would not write, hoping to send better
tiGingy if I waited a turn of fortune’s
wheel. [it never same, Fred, 1 left
California three years ago, and came
here, where | was promised the place of
foreman in a great pork.-packing house,
[ saved a littie money and was hopin
for better times, when my health failed
again, and this time with it my eye-
sight, I hoped against hope, spend
my savings 16 have the best advices, an
not until IT was pronounced incurable
would | write wo you, [I want you to
take me to an asylum, Fred: and, as 1
must be a pauper patient, I must go to
my own town, You wiil take me, Fred?”
“I will take you 10 an ssylum, John,"
I promised.
"And Basie? Yon will keep fny we-
erot. You will not disturt Bases Lon
iness?”
"I will not trouble Buses
ness,” 1 amid,
Yet on bout later I was
Cinennatt till an answer
happi-
to
loving heart, but I said nothing of it to
John,
COaring tenderly for his comfort, I
took him on his way homeward, It
wag ovening when we reached the rail-
way depot of our own town, and, as we
had been long oramped in the car-seats,
I proposed to walk home,
“Is it not too far off?” John asked,
“I thought the asylum was a long way
from here.”
“Oh, the whole place is changed
from the little village you left!” I an-
swered, "We have a great town here
vow, and your asylnm is not very far
from here,”
He let me lead him then, willingly
A Woman's Halrpin,
“Hoe here,” said a gentleman friend
to ua one day, taking from his pocket a
bit of white tissue paper. Unfolding
it, a woman's hairpin lay on the palm
of his hand, “Bee here, I wonldn’t
take muy amount of money for that
little thing; ean you gness why?”
“There's a romance connected with it,”
we hazarded. ‘Not exactly,” he said, |
“but there is a curious little eirouwm-
stance, A year ago I was in Colorado,
and went to the top of Pike's Peak.
I stood alone in the midst of the eold
and the silence and the solitude. I felt |
oppressed, 1 seemed lo myself the |
enough, and we were not long in reach-
ings Susie's home, Bhe was alone in
but obeyed my motion for silence as I
He looked
wretchedly old and worn, and his
clothes were shabby, yet Busic’s soft
eyes, misty with tears, had only love in
their expression as she waited permis-
sion to speak,
“John,” I said to him, “if I had
found you in a pleasant homo, happy
and prosperous, and I had known that
Susie was poor, sick and blind, would
her misfortune from you, and passing
i by your home, to have placed her iu the
care of charitable strangers?”
“Fred, you would never have done
that!” he said, much agitated.
“Never!” I answered, “You are
right. But you, John, ask me to take
| from Basie the happioess of knowing a
father's love, the sweet duty of earing
| for a father's s#ffliction,”
“No, no, Fred, I only ask you to put
no burden upon her young life, to throw
uo cloud over her happiness, 1 am old
aud feeble; I shall troubleno one long.”
““Aud when you die, you wonld de.
prive your ouly ehild of the satisfaction
of ministering to your wanis-
her her father’s dy wailing.”
He tured his sig
me, his whole {ace wor
“Where is she
S50 11 you
toward
ng convuisively,
You woud
t know my child
PAE eves
not ta k
“Fred
1 hurried to
to rise,
to eal him,
$e]
Freal”
the
th
o
my child!” he
ously; ‘vou promised me my ehild!™
I saw at a glance taat the agitation of
1 evening nght back the wan.
had told
who left
want cried,
ha
#tinet th
; for she returned
1 whispered him to be very good
and kine grandpapa, she put him in het
in a md his exeite.
and he fondled the curly
while Johnnie obedieutly pressed
Itps upon the withered cheek, So
a little time, they fail asleep, John-
nestled in the feeble arms, and the
hered face drooping upon the golden
We watched them silently, til
saw a shadow pass over John's face,
snd a change settle there that comes
but onoe in life,
Gaoatly Alpert
child and earried
where Susie and
1 Wo Po
wit!
RI
fa
Ment was gone,
¢v $
head,
fais
arr
Hein,
lifted the sleeping
him to the nursery,
I sat beside the arm.
CHa,
“Uncle Fred,” she whispered, **Al-
bert will go for a doctor. But may I
waken him,
novel
All the wild look was gone from
them as he groped a moment, till Same
put ber hand in his, Then a heavenly
smile came upon the wasted lips, ana
he sald softly, tenderiy:
*Sasie, my own little child, Susie.’
And with the name on his lips, John's
apirit went to seek an eternal asylnm,
in whish there will be no more poverty,
pain or blindness
eves,
A
The Regular Army
Very few young men who desire to
| enlist 1u the reguinr army have much
f an idea of the requirements of the
service. Nearly all think that they cao
{ be soldiers when they have fatied fu
everyihing else. Such an impression is
entirely erroneous. Jt is the aim of the
recruiting officers to secure young men
| of intelligence and good babits, The
as physically qualified for the duties of
| a soldier. Loafers, sots, and idiers will
{find no comfort in the service. The
‘oldier is not, as many suppose, put un-
ler penitentiary discipline, He is ex-
| pected to conform to strict army rules
| only when on duty, and life at the posts
| is as pleasant as it could be at any sim-
ilar out-of-the-way place, Furloughs are
' given to good men when neoessary, and
with hunting, fishing, the post library,
aud other amusements, there is much to
make life futeresting and rob the army
of its disagrecableness, There is prao-
tically no interference with wu soldier's
private habtis if they be good, It must
not be inferred, however, that army life
{is full of pleasure. There are many
{ hard hips to contend with that are not
| encountered at home. The fare is plain
| but good, and plenty to eat can always
be had, The pay of the private is 218
per month for the first two yoars, and
an inoreass of 81 per mouth is granted
in each of the inst three years, this in-
eroane of 872 being paid at time of dis-
charge, If a private works at the poet
as an artisan he recives fifty cents per
day extra, and if as a laborer thirty-five
oonts extra, Clothing is tarnished or a
money allowance for the same to the
extent of $187.50 in five 8, If this
sum fis exceeded the soldier must make
it ai the end of his term, If his
Glothing costs less than that amonnt the
ouly man in the midst of a vest and |
| newly created world, Baddenly 1
| glanced downward, and there I saw on
i the rocks, lying at my feet, this little
i bit of wire, 1t was a woman's hairpin,
I picked it up and put it carefully mto |
{ my poeket. I no longer fell the dread-
| ful oppression of loneliness, The littie
| hairpin gave me an absolute sense of
| compamouship, It was almost like the
| visible presence of a woman, ‘The
{ little loop of wire was the slender
| ink that bound the big world below
{to me, I have kept it ever since, I
think I shall always want 10 keep it.”
In Oliver Wendell Holmes’ story,
“Elsie Veunor,” Elsie, the heroine, is
missing, The young schoolmaster sus-
| pects that she has stolen into the desola-
tion aud wildness of the mountains,
led by the awful inheritance of the
snake-uature that holds her, and Le
in searohh ol her. Up, up he
goes nto steep and rocky solitundes,
It seems to him that a
human being could have ever scaled
these steeps and penetrated these fast.
nesses before, He 1s about to give up
the search when he sees, lying just be-
ore him, a bairpin, It is
Eisie's, Eaeouraged, he pushes on and
finds the young girl down in a nest of
tha whioh has such
strange fellow aliip,
It is not often given these
feminine engines to play so roma
these two incidents, but
d Ind they
affaire of every-
i hairpin, woman
ROOGR
impossible
woman's
+5
snakes with she
to
a role as in
& prowess an
practical
Bereft of
Deg a
@ mercy of aceider
i wey
tha .
a6 Pr
8614
ita
Ara
8
the
weak, defer
jaslance,
i weapon, she faces
1
aud is equal to it
“Her masenln
pocketial
with
and little mechan
cacefal, civi sd
HET DANG, oO
Caries A
sa
the thous.
ul toa
ie 0 Hap sia
os, PICKS, BOOKS,
RO O63, it 10 perior 0
al tricks n
i existence, on
VILE
$
sae MARLO
roady
i fast)
fresscs the faith.
ALG
5 ©
Ye
tiie
in
pincks from amid
f1 | { re, and 1s ready tC
With a
and
letiers
and cuts the magazine. it she
pokes and hooks, picks and scratches,
puils and pashes, or even defends her.
sell from accident or assanlt, BSeores
of 1tricate operations for which a man
would find necessary to employ as
many instruments the tor
tare chamber of a dentist, are disposed
of by a limber wristed young woman
with a few mgenions torus of a hair.
pin, before ber brother has time to haot
ap his tool chest,
“Talk about the limitation of being
# woman! Man, deprived of hairpins
ne an sid to his existence, knows little
of the breadth of usefulness that opons
before womankind when armed with
the instrument whose slender wires
have been her best weapon against so
adverse world.”
#
$
i$
| §1
a8 adorn
casas
| Extravagance in Dress in Old Times
The great dressmakers of those days
wore Mme, Eloffe, the artist who dressed
Mane Antoinette, and whose acoount
books have recently been published,
with notes and carious colored plates,
by the Comte de Reiset; and Mme.
Calaxe, the modiste.couturiere of the
Fauburg 8t, Honore, celebrated for her
| exorbitant charges, One has only to
consult the enrions histoneal researches
! of the Brothers De Concourt in order to
| appreciate the luxury and extravagance
of the Inst century. Imagine that in
the wedding troussreau of Mile. Lepel-
| letier Saint: Fargean there figured twalve
blond wigs, varying in shade from flax
to gold! Mme, Tallien alone possessea
valued at that time at $100-—that is to
say, some $200 of moderu money, None
(of our modern elegantes would ever
| think of buying $6,000 worth of false
| hair, At the same epoch, the ladies
! who had fallen 1n love with Greek and
| old-fashioned shoe in order 4o adopt the
cothurnus; and Coppe, the chic shoe.
maker, or cothurner, of Paris, charged
880 a pair for his imitation antique san-
dals, with their straps, Alss!
came to ithow her torn cothurnus to
the great Coppe, he replied sadly: “The
evil is irremediable—madame has been
walking!”
i -
A Novel Duel.
A duel between a lady and a gentle-
man recently occurred at Warsaw, The
latter had offered the lady his hand,
which she refused, whereupon be
spread abroad reports injurions to her
good name, Soveral gentlemen came
orward in a knightly manner and vol
unteered to avenge her by challenging
her ocalumnistor to a duel. Sune re-
plied that if a duel was required in
order to vindicate her honor she con-
ceived that she had a right and title
to bo one of the principals, The
strong-minded damsel prided herself
upon being a good shot, and resolved
to punish her traducer, but not to in.
FASHION NOTES,
~Veéry elegant carriage robes are
shown in natural seal, bear and wolf
skins,
- Plain, straight skirtsof plush, with |
possibly a panel of brocade of suitable |
color, are combined with a plain basque
having a brocade vest and plain lacing |
of medium-sized cords,
Evening and dinner dresses are !
made with bodices cut low in a point
both In front and at the back, but |
young ladies generally wear some sort
of thin chemisette inside,
—8Some women bay brooches on the
ground that they cost less than ribbons,
and the lovely bunches of enameled flow-
€rs might well be considered as econo.
They
are such exquisite pieces of work that
wearing them certainly evinces artistic
taste,
-—Ribbon i8 extensively used, not
merely in bows, but whole panels are
formed of it, terminating in loops and
ends, which are finished with tassels of
1et or cashmere colored beads, accord-
ing to the color of the dress material.
Half-long wraps,
mantles, dolmans and
sent out by the best
houses, along with: the
and mantles and the very
pelisses,
in the form of
redingotes, are
manufact
short
jackets
=
e ong News
polo: alees, ulsters,
raglans and Huguenot cloaks,
One of the
viceable of
a ground li
al, w Ii
Woo! in fig
name for most
Kan bouretie,
most attractive and ser-
the new boucle cloaking Lins
e all-wool very fine diagon-
is of the Astrak
TT 4
i Ost corre
of these goods 15'* Ast
i} \ Ra y
ial ie Cul “all
set rures, he t
ra~
~ Basques a
and eyes on Lhe
é
aps of the
le of
hie Way
red
#lvie,
One of the most
desirable of all
lard seaisk
the
© =i
Sal
’
t De
% y
Lan
Lwo
every BET V hoes
and paletots, Newmarke
and ulsters, have only their length and
warmih
$
to commend
inches io
Way
the
en
longer Ls
additional
lower limbs them.
is, however, an much
portance to many ladies that the stylish
effect of a short garment has no templa.
tions for them in view of the comfort
they lind in the long styles.
--A plomb grey costume has a box-
plaited flounce on the foundation skirt.
The long overdress is made en tablier
and 18 bordered with wide silver gal-
oon. It is draped high on one side,
disclosing a panel enriched with the
galloon, The back drapery is long and
straight The postilion bodice has vest,
high collar and éuffs of the silver gal
loon. The visite worn with this is of
the same material as the dress, and is
bordered with chinchilla, The high
crowned hat is of felt of corresponding
color, and has a broad band of silver
galloon around the crown, while direct.
Iy in front is a group of gray feathers
held in position by a silver agraffe.
~In relation to other articles, one of
the newest things is a clese fitting
jacket in green cioth, exactly the same
| as that used for covering billiard tables,
It is trimmed with black braid, and has
a gh officer's collar and turnover
{ouffs of black astrachan, And just
| bere let me say, please, that we have
broken out Imo an epidemic of astra
chan ; everything Is trimmed with it;
dresses, jackets, ulsters, wraps of all
{ Kinds, have astrachan on them, if only
BODE about
itemn of so
| indeed, astrachan waistcoats really form
| & feature of the autumn coats,
| lying unnoticed all this time, It isa
genuine walking jacket, and it is lined
with silk of the color of the outside.
The shades are a most perfect match.
The finish is something exquisite; one
might wear it on the wrong side as well
as the right, so perfectly is it finished.
A well known English fashion
house has introducod among itsantumn
novelties jackets with hats to match,
the arrangements of tritomings as well
ticular. A jacket known as the Seven.
teenth Lancers, is accompamed by a
cer’s” plume, made with ring, an exact
in every detail of true cavalry
plume~in fact, they are supplied accor.
ding to especial order by an Euglish
military manufacturer and cost to the
house itself $35 and $0 dollars each.
The hats are of fine cloth, bordered with
real astrachan and trimmed additional.
ly with doubled cords passed three times
roand the crown. The jacket is cut
high, with standing collar and cuffs of
the front of which be
of white, red or seif-color or a |
shade bro
HORSE NOTES.
—W. Whitehead, of New York, has
for
Jim Renwick, the California geld.
nge, x. J
He “F
~There is a probability of the re-
Course near Mobile,
~-Jacch Pincus will next season re-
~Gus Wilson will winter the Hanna
pair, Josephine and Gertrude, Octavia
and Nellie G,, at Glen#ilie,
~{yoorge Gx. Hall, of Boston, has
bought of F. V. Dickey, of Michigan,
the b, m. Maggie G. Middleton, record
2.20%,
~The first prize at the National
Horse Show or the best fandems was
awarded to Charles W, Meyer, Jr., of
Philadelphia,
~The trotting stallion Almont, 2.36}
by Almont, dam Ashland by Mabrino
Chief, bas been sold to Mr. Wadding.
ton, of New Philadelphia, for £3050,
Mr. Edward Thorne is now the own.
f the Poughkeep Driving Park,
] impro have been
made, and now the track is as and
as suf
{ AT
“y 1 retard
iad VeInenis
fast
as any in the coualry.
John Shepard,
Boston,
Blond
quarters in S584
4
wg
al.
3
Le pair ou the road
of recently
ne and
and
1 vel wsdl
para wii
COLLIug
gave his double
Hattie C. two
respectively,
eam
She
i
wiglishh Derby is run over a
wih bad and dangerous. No-
t has ever seen the horses come
nd afer
fail 4
excessively
idden round
is a mwosl
it it is made worse Uy
like a penihouse
Tn
I
rds examin
ttenham
£8 A oy
$
—P. Lorillard's noted mare Aranza,
by Bonnie Scotland, slipped ber foal,
by Iroquois, on October 30, The «ir
cumstance was most unforfupate, W%
Aranza was probably one of the fleetest
mares of the decade, although she lost
her form after she was three and never
showed at her best. The Bonnie Scot-
land mares have generally bred so well
to sons of Leamington that great things
were naturally expected of her Iroquois
colt.
—-The total number of heats trotted
and paced duirng the seven meetings
froms Homeward Park, Pitteburg, Pa.
to Hampden Park, Springfield, ; Mass.
was 346, of winich ninety-five were in
2 20 and bett.r, 149 between 2.20 and
2.25, and eighty-nine between 2 25 and
+), leaving but thirteen that were
not fast enough to find a place in the
30 records. The total amount of
money hung up in purses was $109 600,
and the amount in round numbers that
changed hands through the medium of
the pool-box was $1,278,000, making s
grand total of $1,384,600 contested for.
—The Coney Island Jockey Club, N.
Y.. has issued a circular in regard to
the Futurity Stakes, to which the elub
| will add $10,000, to be raced for in the
| autumn meeting of 1888. Ths sweep.
| stakes are {or 2-vear-olds, foals for 1886,
According to the conditions $25 each is
subscribed for the mares covered in
1885 and $50 each for the produce of
{ such mares, The starters are to pay
$250 additional. Inthe race colts are
to carry 115 pounds and fllies and geld.
| ings 112 pounds, The second in the
| race is to receive §2,000 of the added
money and 30 per cent. of the starting
| money. The race will be three-quarters
{of a mile, The estimated value of the
| stakes will be $30,000, as follows: Sub.
| seriptions of mares—400 at $25 each,
! less 20 percent. for void entries, $3000;
| subsoriptions of produce —130 at $50
| each, $7500, starters—18 at $250 each,
| $4500; added money, $10,000.
St. Blaise, August Belmont’s re
cently imported stallion, is a chestnut
with a white stripe down his face, near
fore ankle white above the joint, near
hind Jeg white nearly to the hough, and
a little while on the coronet of the off
hind foot; he stands 104 hands
has a neat well ud, b
tween the eyes, ieating intelligence;
the ear fine and well placed; neck well.
shaped itu being Sibir 400 short,
weil-placed shoulders