Aha
Fr
Persian Roses.
In sn avcient legend, Persians aay
That o rose trea blooms at the gates of Day,
Aud once in each life, be 18 saad or gay,
Comes thé scent of that flower from the far
oft skies.
And the heart seems lifted to Paradise,
And, Of the day thas it came to mel
Tears caunot tarnish the memory, love,
Of that moment out on the summer sea
W Lun the fragrance fell from above.
Your tyes were raised, and their tender
aia
Had made me forget the refreshing gale,
TH! the waves were dashing over the rail
And the clinging arms of a ragged cloud
Had wrapped the sun in an inky shroud.
With the timbers straining under our feet,
Aud our faces pale in the lightning's
glare,
learned for
there!
We the first time love was
Blest was the fragrance that cams on the
Dlnst,
Bright was the moment, but swiftly past—
Ab. far too best, 100 bright to last!
For the mighty, passionless, pitiless sea
Claimed what was dearer than life to wo
Ab, merciless Memory, draw thy vell
Across the path of that leaping wavel
Shut trom my eyes the loosened soil
Aud lift my heart from that ocean grave!
THE MINISTER'S NEPHEW,
1.ita was late at church that evening.
It was rather an ordinary occurrence
for Lita to be late.
nets never were in order, her gloves
never mended. There was always
a mud-splash to be cleaned
be accounted for.
«1 wish I were a man!” sad Lita.
never bothercd about their
Men
are
clothes,”
‘Men have to look decent, I suppose.’
imother Allan, scathingiy,
it isn’t such a dreadful trial
sighed Lita,
gloves around in the vain
pair that would be mates.
e pair could not be found; £0 Lita
Ven hurch with her hands
her shawl, and guiltily
a back seat, directly under the organ
gallery, where she could hear the sweet
d Gran
a h,
Sa
them!” tossing
to
siunk into
thout herself being seen.
wld like to have had a respect-
of long-wristed :
T it stared
Leb ana
tan gloves,
sit up In (front
Cause
ke get some sort of an
toy
WU
1d 1 should 1
ff him."
3, the heated atmosphere of
he church conirasting unpleasantly
with occasional whifls wild-rose
scented air from the outside world.
And late as Lita was, she had the
satisfaction of knowing that
some one even more tardy than herself,
A pleasant-looking young man, Wilh
lear, hazel eyes, hair waved lightly al
g nd a not unbecoming suspi-
on his , Was
shown into the pew by Lhe
'd sexton, who affected entirely
wnore its other occupant.
“Perhaps he don’t really see me.”
said Lita to herself. ‘‘He 1s growin
blin ‘er every day, poor old f
rlass of his spectacles 13 cracked
, 1 ve
Leaver
¥§
Oi
face
ossil and
ear acl 3.
And Lita looked
ch is a natural
limpled eighteen
red eight-and-sixty.
Now Lita was very pretty, with her
blue, laughing eyes, fringed with Jon
thick lashes, like curtains;
as red as the sweet-williams in the
churchyard; and bright-brown hair,
threaded with changing gleams of red.
gold. which grew so thick that hair pins
would scarcely keep it up, and it had
)
at the cross old sex-
sontempluous pity
ite from bloom.
toward while-
id
By
cheeks
hat by an antique shell comb, studded
with little balls, which had been worn
il
young girl.
And the other person in the paw,
what a lovely vision she was!
“The ideal village maiden,’’ he said
‘ook in her eyes, tool
think of Longfellow's poem:
‘ITer face is like the angels,
And her heart as pure as iney.*
I wonder who she can be?’
glance at him from beneath the silky
awning of her long lashes, thought:
one of the traveling salesmen from the
Eagle Hotel, or perhaps a book agent,
or a lightning-rod man."
Alas, how keenly would handsome
careless comments could he have known
their nature!
And then she left off troubling her
head about him and settled comfortably
back in the corner of her pew, yawning
now and then as the bald-headed,
elderly preacher preached on, getting
gradually lost among his *‘seventhlies’’
and ‘‘eighthlies.”
But all of a sudden I.ta’s eyes
sparkled, She whisked a pencil out of
her pocket, and began slowly to sketch
something on the fly-leaf of her hymn-
book--for this wicked little sinner was
just enough of an artist to be able
to jot down some similitude of whatever
took her capricious fancy.
And as she drew, with her book safe
hidden under the projecting moukding
of the pew rail, ber companion stretch
his neck curiously forward to see what
she was about.
“A touch of nature makes the whole
world kin,” says the poet; and Lita
tipped the book so that the unknown
could catch a glimpse of her misehie.
vous work,
It was the old preacher himself--his
Roman nose slightly exaggerated, his
bald head given perhaps an undue pre.
ponderance, but still the oid preacher
80 comically rendered that the unknown
could not but smile behind his heavy
brown mustache,
She looked archly at him; he nodded
almost im and taking the
but giviag
sketch—before he gave it back.
suddenly the old man rever-
ently closed the manuscript leaves
of his sermon, the choir burst out into
2 sweet and simple hymn,
AER
| the very roots of her hair. dropping the
i hymn-book in her consternation, and
groping blindly for 1t on the floor.
“What have 1 been dong?”
asked herself,
And she tore out the offending fly-
leaf, and thrust it down to the very
bottom of her pocket, with a lightning
frown at the possible salesman who sat
denurely at his end of the pew.
Lita could be very haughty when, as
Grandmother Allan expressed it, *‘the
Evil One took possession of her,” but
she had a censclence, nevertheless, and
it pricked her sorely now.
Sue brushed haughtily past the
unknown us she went out of the
church: she had almost a mind to wait
and beg the old clergyman’s pardon as
he emerged from the robing-room; but
then she remembered that this might
perhaps involve embarrassing revela-
| tions, and another of G randmother
| Allan’s axioms occurred to her mind:
“Better let well enough alone.”
She was a great deal quieter that
| week, however, and 80 muce better
| behaved, that her father remarked
| casually that *‘the child was really get-
| ting nite decent.”
Lita
| garded as the family scapegrace.
| On the unlucky I'riday, however, old
| Mrs. Hodges came io, with her Knit.
| ting-work and snufi-box.
+S'pose you've heard the news, Mre.
| Allan?’’ said she, ‘‘Some one’s been
makin’ carricatoors of old Mr, Dewey,
the new minister, in the bymn-book,
and the sexton was fool enough to show
it to him, and he’s dreadful put oul
t about ir."
“Bless mel
Allan, droppii
wus peel
1"
said Grandmother
knife with which
ug peaches for Lea.
| ‘I seen myself.” nodded
Hodges; for all it’s 8
SOdom-an ali sort o
In vue
sie
Mrs.
uch a
thing,
laagh, it's done
nose and specta-
the very wart
Bid 3
vou couldn't
80 cule, wit i
cles complete,
on his chin.”
“Pear, said Mrs,
“What is t Id a.com’ Wo
could done such a sinf 11
Lita, who was making
Ml n the next ro
dear!”
his wor
Allan,
? Who
a ii dd
up pink rib-
m for a dress
DOWS
tennis-party, felt herself turn pale.
juntarily she put her hand down
pocket, and pulled up
pled fiy-leaf of a hy
i
nn-book; bul,
Hs OLG.
| as plain as daylight to her
nad dropped the book and
other one in ita stead,
wot 1d F nlre
horrible plece of circums-
idence to bear wilness
ui
she thought,
t it was mel”
will be seen that
grammar were
al Know
speech it
and the
equally deficient!
ras
*
t to the Lenni
She went
t
xt
$s |
" aid ug
t Fate 13 sure, sooner or
ke acriminal.
ne
lav an +
Gay, and to L
i Know sion th
BOW 8Ug8
iater, Lo over
:
KX hel
She Saw
iis bald
' said he,
at |
“1 am gh
a a A433
-very glad!
t be,” thought
wicke
thing I had do
murmured
of Insanity,
lawn by
of the
sacr!
fey
pel
a :
some
piece
) alled across the
iss I'lora Fortescue,
radiant young hostesses,
“Come here, Lital"’ Miss For-
“I'm going assign you
the very best players I know
Frank Dewey, from Yale Col-
Miss
Mr. Dewey to
"11 S118 wus
ones
cried
fescue, to
to one of
— Mr.
lege, our new minister's nephew,
Allan, let we introduce
you ”
And to her infinite horror and dis-
may, Lita foundsherself looking directly
into the roguish, hazel eyes of the
| pew under the organ-loft that night
| place she was in.
lifting his tennis cap.
| body bad railied to her two cheeks, and
| was there hoisting danger signals,
| *I've known you by sight for some
time,’ said the young collegian. ‘‘But
| this is the frst time I could get intro-
duced. Iam so glad!”
| Lita knew perfectly well that she
{ ought to say something,
| failed her in this emergency.
| could only look at Mr. Dewey
| a frightened, idiotic sort of way.
“Really, though,’ he went on, “I
| feel quite well acquainted with you.
That bit of pencil idea, you know"
“Oh, don’t!” almost shrieked poor
Lata,
“But why not?” said Mr. Dewey.
with engaging frankness, ‘‘Of course,
it’s all between ourselves, You know,
I suppose, that there's a lot of fuss
been made about it. Not by my uncle,
though. Bless his dear, genial heart,
he sees the fun of the thing as well as
you did!”
s*And—and he was your
gasped Lita,
“And the dearest old uncle in the
world, too,” nodded the collegian.
“But a joke is a joke, and I'd have cut
my tongue sooner than to betray you,
Miss Allan. And really, as Uncle
Norman says, the likeness is something
startling!”
“You haven't told any one?’ fal
tered Lita.
“Not a soul,”
“And will you keep the secret?’’
“With my life. Here’s a bit of pink
ribbon that has dropped off your frock.
Tie 1t into the buttonhole of my walst-
coat, and cunsider me your true and
loyal knight from this time forth for-
evermore."
Infinitely relieved, Lita did so; and
not until she was Mrs, Frank Dewey,
two years afterward, did the old minis-
ter know all about the eventful Sanday
evening when the scapegrace of the
family drew his picture on the fly-leat
of her «book.
hymn:
He laughed and forgave her, Not
so Grandmother Allan.
“A wicked and sinful thing!”’ was her
comment.
“But if it hadn't been for that,
» “I never
She
in
uncle!”
and Lita, re-
remb ring where she was, Xt to
gra
should have been such good friends
with Frank! And he always declares
that from the moment I tied the pink
ribbon into his buttonhole we were
engaged,
Nonsense!”
Allan. But
that.
sald Grandmother
Iita knew better than
RI RR,
Love's Fountain.
“It 8 cruel of grandpapa,’”’ she
said, *‘It is very cruel, Henri. These
old people think only of money. Why
can they not let us have peace, when
we could be so happy? It is such an
absurd idea. You and I to marry each
other! We are like brother and sister,
Nothing can change that.”’
“But we are not brother and mister,”
said he, ‘“*and aven flrst cousins marry.
I have been thinking that—-"’
“Oh, don’t, don’t!’’ she sald. ‘‘Henrl,
for heaven’s sake, don’t begin to be as
bad as the rest. Be my dear brother
still. It would be frightful for us to
murry. Besides one should fall in love
first—should not one? Think how
absurd to marry without that!”
“But I tke you so much,”
“Dear Cousin Lina, let
think about it.”
1 will not,” said she. “If you de-
you can talk about
fancies, not else, Ol
of course I like
you, and that 18 just why it can’t be.
Grandpapa ought to be ashamed
himself.”
us
such foolish
her lips toward her cousin.
“(¢ive me a Kind Kiss,
Henri,” said she, ‘‘and never, never
speak this absurdity again. As f
marrying, I shall never marry any one,
Why shonid I, when 1
thought?”
Henri! gave a lit
I
.
ol or
5
detest the
3 ards
Sigil.
never marry
said he; “but you see
brother and sistér, You
make it so by saying so.”
hen he kissed her and they walked
into the house, where Grand-
papa Kleber and Grand-Uncle Michel
had just settled the matrimonial
prospects of these two young cousins
to their own satisfact
The result
Lio
ghall
we are
can’t
'
nos L
back
of the young peopie’s
heard of
Munich for
thine
Lg
in
if were 15
ifather Kleber died and left all
his money to Lina, who had already
refused two excellent matches,
Uncle Michel
richer,
1 F
left
people
Grand
died al
came yet Atl doved
mother her, long re-
mained Lina Michel though ber beauty
and her wealth had i Lit
suitcrs to b T l t
had tho:
had nev
T.iess
8 80, Lina be-
also he
many
hat
marriage
er com her-the mysten-
ous, wonderful had never come
to her, and now she believed it never
would, for she was 23, Bat,
how, ever the morning
aw found
¥
Henri her
rd 3
&r door. sie
Necessary
*
a to
love
since
and
Was gone
3 3
S18 ne
nore
reled
her
two years
cousin
herrelf
Is gay
ys OB dove wh
sy branch.
‘hers is no place to dream in
in
111 v
ike a
pictures,
Lina Michel spent many hours with
ler eyes fixed on painted faces that
she never saw for the living face that
haunted her; but one day she woke to
a wondrous interest in a small pic-
ture which hung in a small dealer’s
gallery In which she found herself.
It was the garden of her grand-
father’s old house at Munich. And
this was more than chance.
on the night when she made that mis-
For that was Henri,
and surely that black-halred girl was
“Is this picture for sale?’ she asked
He shrugged his shoulders.
“I think the artist 13 mad,” he
““This is the first picture any
one has wanted to buy, and he refuses
to sell it. Perhaps a price sufficient
dress the lady will remember
commission?"
The lady promised faithfully to do so.
“It is a wretched street--he is very
poor,” said the dealer, and gave Ler
the number written on a card, ‘The
fifth floor,” he said, with a shrug cf his
shoulders,
Lina Michel stepped into her carri-
age and soon, followed by her maid,
climbed the dingy dwelling, rapped
upon the door that bore the word *‘Ate-
lier?’ on it.
In a moment a man with a lon
beard, who held a palette in bis hand,
opened the door for her, and stood
regarding the apparition of a closely
veiled lady, attended by her maid, with
some surprise,
“I speak to the painter of the pic-
ture at Monsieur—'s,"”’ said the
Fraulein Michel. *“The garden and
fountain. I desire to buy It at any
price.”
“Madame,” replied the artist, “I
regret to say that picture is not to be
sold.”
“But I must have it,”’ replied the
“lI am rich--anything, aay
r,” sald the artist, “but It
has no price,”
“‘Listen,” said the lady, *‘It is more
than a pleture that I want-—it isa rem-
iniscence. It is like a-place I know.
I beg for it. 1 implore you to sell it
to me.”
“Madame,” said the artist, “I see
i1l speak plainly.
can again. And, madame, while I live
I must look upon that picture. When
I die I must cast my last glance upon
it. I shall never see her again,
since she has become the wife of one
she loves well, no doubt; but II shall
never love any other. So I must keep
her pleture, I must,
madame, ”’
Henri Kisber-—knew him despite the
flowing beard and all the changes of
twelve long years.
And as he ceased she threw back her
yo and held both her hands toward
Ima.
““Henril’”’ she sighed, ‘‘Heari, oh,
Menri, do you not kmow me?” And
then he clasped her in his arms, and
she lay sobbing on his bosom,
When they stood beside the fountain
in the old garden at Munich again they
were man and wife,
SECOND-HAND SHOES.
| came
in Brooklyn---Seorets of the Trade.
In a dingy and
| bler’s shop in one of the most densely
|
|
i
i
|
i
i
{
|
|
|
| gits, from sunrise to sunset, an old and
| dried-up shoemaker. He always ap-
pears to be busy, but the boots and
a worn and di-
The shcemaker,
at the front door have
| lapldated appearance,
{ hand shoes. There is not
| the business, to be sure, but
| cobbler informed a reporter
that by working from sixteen to eigh-
hours a day he was able to sup-
bis wife and little ones. The in-
the aged
it
teen
port bh
¥
not & new one, by any means. The
jdea originated in London and 1s car-
ried on largely in all Earopezan cities in
the quarters of the poor.
Said shoemaker: *You
be surprised to see Lhe class
who purchase i
have among
dust
is
the would
of men
second-hand
my customers
gentleman wio comes
| every three months and
shoes for $ Ha is
miser, Many men whom
name, and who \
new shoes, prefer
{ economy’
| is
{oinal
Original
da
8 sake,
cast off
t for a song.
someliines go ol
and a coupe :
shoes and boots to keep me em-
Dools are m
than shoes because
sather. I ind
nowadays
a mont!
a1
i [nore |
iluable
that the)
means are taken
asked,
Sn
hat
hoes?"
up old 8
“The uppers
are always
are worn
shoe 18
Was
of
i
¥
ROOG,
or nB
Lj
lowers
body of the
n a patchable condition, 1
an entirely Dew
of the
rena
Joo
not
must on
instep.
s x rvart
upper part
f
foot 4
il EM
iL becoines neces-
i
J0E8, 80
IEE new
By that toe
leather used is not so good as the ongi-
nal, Soles and heels always have to be
rebuilt and the toes capped. In all
these repairs the cheapsst of sole
leather is used, When finished the
can bs sold from seventy-five
cents to £1.50, A shoe must be of the
finest leather and be but little worn to
bring $2."
“Who are your customers?”’
“Poor people, who can afford to pay
but little for their shoes. 1 supply whole
shoes
and mother to the baby. Ido but li
tie business in women’s shoes, Women
usually wear their shoes
n
a.
1
FASHION NOTES
—For a matron, a black striped vel-
bodice, the skirt
made of the new point d’esprit net, |
covered with pin-point spots, tiny tied |
bows of ribbon in a close line carried |
—Rome very stylish suits of heavy, |
up with
panels and other garniture of ine
macrame netting made of linen cord- |
thread. The eflect is very good, and |
the dresses are not only extremely dur-
able but the trimming as well as the |
material 18 so readily cleaned that the
idea commends itself at once to practi- |
cal ladles,
—Quite a new face has been given to |
cream brocade (of which we have all, I]
think, become a little tired). as devised |
by our dressmaker, at least. This par- |
ticular brocade formed the long tow-
ng train; it was lined throughout with |
call peach, The whoie front of the |
veiled in
of Lie mo-
ment in Paris—and with this was in-
terspersed one of the finest possible |
specimens of point d’Alencon. The |
bodice was made of the brocade draped |
~The use of wais's of bright ma-
terial with black lace skirts is in high
favor, especially for watering-piace
toilets. Ladies have learned that lace
will only last for a few wearings, and
bine
for the purpsse, The material is sus-
ceptible of some exquisite effects; and
is used in embroidered goods as well as
plain, Some elegant dresses made of
lace and plain and embroidered crepe
de chine have the plain goods a
parrow plaiting at bottom the
skirt, or a foundation for the lace;
and ample back drapery and waist are
of the embroidered material.
ue
for
the of
~—Something quiet was a
of tl jchest porcelain
panels forming a
portion of the skirt, made of
colored canvas, the silk turned
ne side to display it, This
¢ i 4 art
newest and Hos, GOL
4 gown cot-
posed
de 8
nt _
iolion
Alla
¥ Yin
Ul Lait
Onie
Was
ti uil on
thie canvas
Buti
Was
aide i
BOE, UL
fsy SO ATE
i 8G UAT
in the cufls
fastened
revels
n the there
a happy
rt - 4 . 3 ¥ a»
ch. in the skirt, was carried out by
tie bows down one side.
vests an
mixture of DIOCK,
Paris note a hat
a fall of Swiss
which makes it
A
few Paris fash-
as they are re-
dark blue
from
rown with
around
$
mp sl
lery
like a
for there are
1hrole
ik
accepted here |
is sailor
with a fall of blue cambric em-
y around the brim, The cur-
in is looped up in front and fastened
the brim, while at the sides and
back it falls to the shoulders, and can
be brought close unde he chin and
fastened so a entirely
4
‘
a of
to protect the
throat and neck and to a great extent
the sides on the face from th «a 11
is likely to meet with favor, especially
for on the water.
€ sun
use
— Very open canvas, or drawn-w wk,
pattern wool goods are with
smooth, close fabrics of si ar Ima
terial or are made up with faille Fran-
caise or surah under the open goods,
Some very soft white serges with
stripes and groups of plain leaves and
other figures are very desirable and
have very excellent possilnlities, These
and veiling, light-weight camel's hair,
a |
usea
| sippers. And then, besides, women's
not pay to make them over,”
While the reporter was listening lo
| store & laboring man who, after much
three sizes too large for him tor ninety
cents.
“Those shoes which 1 have just
sold,’ continued the shoemaker, * will
wear the man nearly a year. You
know what be paid for them, and can
estimate what shoe leather costa poor
people who know where to purchase,’
Half a dozen or more cobblers make
a living in Brooklyn by mencing and
making over old shoes,
Philosophy of the “Second Wind."
A————————
People often laugh at the expression
of “second wind.” In ordinary re-
spirations we only use a port ion of our
lungs, the cells at the extremity not be-
ing brought into play. This is the rea-
gon why those who are not ‘‘in train-
ing,” and who try to run for any dis-
tance, soon begin to gasp, and, unless
they are courageous enough to per.
severe in spite of the choking sensation
are forced to stop. But if they will
persevere, the choking goes off, and the
result 18 what is technically known as
“gacond wind.” When the second wind
is fully established, the runner does not
become out of breath, but goes on run-
ning as long as his legs will carry him,
~There were 180 stake and purse
events disposed of during the thirty
days of racing »t Saratoga, with only
one postponement on account of
adverse weather. In a rough estimate
the Racing Association distributed
about $70, in stakes and purses, and
of this amount Baldwin secured the
nd
Volante; the
B.i the 8p
States
1; the
Haren To 1, wih Agi.
rics are made up with plain and fancy
velvet and a littie lace. Tussore,
surah and pongee silks are also used
with velvet. One stylish suit has a
wine-brown velvet walking skirt with
wide panels of pink surah shirred al-
most their entire length, a flounce of
Oriental lace 1s set diagonally across
—One very pretty gown lately ex-
| hibited was of cream canvas with opsn-
| work stripes, made up over pink, very
simply draped and looped with pink
| and brown ribbons. The front of the
bodice had a vest made of flat bands of
lace. It was embroidered in colors,
land had a large geometrical pattern
| formed lof brown silk stitched in the
lace and subsequently worked. A black
lace gown with a lace front had all the
vest composed of silk fancy woven
canvas, made with a coquille of the
| matenal, stagting from the back of the
| waist and continuing down the side.
The bodice was gauze, with a stom-
acher trimming of gauze, satin and
jet, but the novel point about it were
the epaulettes formed of satin ribbon,
with a series of goffered plaits around
the top of the arm. Another had a
bodice of blue satin brocade, with an
epaulette of blush roses on one should-
| er, and a skirt of blue, with the entire
front bordered with blush roses.
Another costume had a bodice of wide
stripes of alternate Capucine satin, the
exact tone of nasturtiums, and gold
tissue, a most happy contrast. A white
lisse skirt, with on one side long care-
Jess sprays of velvet nasturliums and
leaves, as though they had just been
gathered and thrown there. Another
costume had a gold brocaded bodice,
with a cream tulle skirt having
bunches of green corn, corn-flowers
and poppies,
The silk industry is being rapidly
transferred to the United States, to the
consternation of all Europe. Its ben-
efits to Pennsylvania are already con-
siderable. 1t has become established in
almost every town and city of the
eastern part of the State north of the
latitude of Philadelphia. There are
five mills at Darby making spun silk,
and within the limits of the city of
Philadelphia nearly one hundred mills
and wea silk and silk-
goods, Pi and velvets
have recently been added, and there are
two mills on dress goods, the most of
the establishments making upholstery
curtains,
braids
fabrics, tarcomans, ribbons,
find GM, ate
of all these Is very and
loying about
BEET
i
in SL AEA
HOASE NOTES
— Ed Wes', tie light-weight jockey,
has engaged to ride for E. J. Baldwin,
in 1887,
~The entrance fees to the Hampden
Park meeting lack but $600 of paying
The ninth annual Delaware Slate
Fair will be Ped at Dover, from Sep-
Patterson's
near ithe heart
R04 y
tumor
compiaint 8 a
A dangerous
—Richball, the pacer, was put up ab
auction at Island Park, but as the bid-
~—David Bonoer, who is once more
able to be about, says this is the first
racing season he has missed since 1856.
—The Dwyer Drothers’ unbeaten
of Hindoo, Hanover, has been
retired until next season, He is sound
and all right.
—The twenty-sixth annual Fair of
v. Louis
be held
October 4 to 9.
—Walter Gratz, of Philadelphia, has
purchased of N. W. Kittson the b. C.
Fenelon, 2 vears oid, Reform—
Megara, by Eclipse,
~—Peter MeGeoch was expelled from
he Milwaukee and National Associa-
fon tracks on August 27 for abusive
anguage to the judges.
~ Frank, the winner cf the 2.30 class
Charter Oak, is a O-year-old, 164
id gelding by Black Dutchman, son
jashaw,
3 Black
oy
—Oliver K., after winning the $10,-
000 race at Hartford, was purchased
for $17.500 by Mr. Schwartz, of Chica
go, owner of Charley Hogan.
Hudson Driving Puk
track is at Gutien-
burg, N. J., has decided to give a fall
meeti , 20 and J).
1 lapidated old Prospect Park
Fair ground, Brooklyn, has within the
past few mo: transformed into
one of est race-courses of the
iW
srztim 1
couniry
ort)
fu
Assoc ation, whose
y Nn Rapnter . OQ
LE on dDeplember &
+
sn
“Hy i
iif
ths been
tha fis
*
I
-
— Messenger Wilkes, by
1 by Messenger (
record of 4
August
xi bin
fed 3
gle Wilkes,
hief, made a 3 ye
North Vernon,
Messenger Will
Henn
$F.
al
=~: al
14.
Was b
county.
~*Knapsack” M
irom
leveland, fr
hence Lo
er
thy
Hampden
om there Louis, and
Texas, where a circuil will
He will probably winler in
1% ules
Will Ea
Park
ar
to
118 stable
VO DL.
3
i
£
t
¥
{
SOL. of
D. J.
the ch. g. 15
by Black Duteh-
m. Eis Deans
Mr. Wilson also
h-year-old black horse
Weber, of Trenton, N. J.,
A).
Wil
Easton, Pa.,
urchased of ii
Wright,
Fred, 1
has } !
Highwstown, N. J.,
8 vears oid
’
h
LAN
3 %
ODADAS,
wv 3
ng the
al, givi
part payment
bought a green
John
$vs
|
Deal
Fairfax Stable has recently
chased from Hon. Leland Stanford
teen yearlings and a 44-year-old, the
price paid being $15,000, The latter is
gelding by Shannon, eut of Riglin,
p
a
and the yearlings by
Monday,
b
b
i
Six
are two fillies
y. two colts and two fillies
y Flood, one colt and five fillies
yy Shannon, anl one filly by Wildidle.
— Ed Corn
IZ INAres,
gan has retired the follow-
sending them WwW.
‘avne’s Stud, Lexington, Ky., to be
t
}
t
~
4
vO .
it
I
bred next season, Sister Monica,
years, by Springbok—Alme; Unite,
2 years, by Longlellow—DBelle knight]
da Hope, 4 years, by King Alfonso—
Austria; chestnut filly, 2 years, by
Revenue, Jr. ,—Sisterly, by War Dance.
~Jockey Spiliman says it Is casier 0
get off three pounds at Monmouth than
one al Saratoga. He explains this as
due atmospheric difference. At
Saratoga the air is not only cooler, but
to
air 3
more dry, the sun’s rays being dry and
burning, with cool mights. Ac Mon-
mouth, on the contrary, it 1s sultry, the
air is more humid, and the perspiration
comes right out.
~The Pennsylvania Association of
Trotting-Horse Breeders have deter-
| mined on holding their initial trotting
| meeting on October 6 and 7, at Home-
| wood Park, Pittsburg, Pa. The
| breeders’ sale will be held in connection
| with the trotting meeting, and if there
| is sufficient stock consigned, the next
| day, Friday, 8th, will be set apart for
| the sale. A large amount of stock is
| alrealy promised, and much more
| is expected.
| —One of P, L. Carpenter's spotted
| ponies on Tuesday night foaled proba-
bly the smallest colt ever dropped
{in this vicinity. It is a stallion, eigh-
| teen inches high, and weighs tweniy-
| five pounds, It is spotied red, white
| and black, is well formed, and as wild
| as a deer. It was sired by one of Mr.
{ Carpenter's black ponies, and was
foaled on the farm of Joseph Yoder, mn
Conemaugh township, Somerset county.
~The first of ths series of Western
fall running meetings commences at
Louisville, on Monday, September 13,
continuing during the week.
Latonia meeting, lasting two weeks,
begins October 1. Then follows the
Lexington meeting, lasting a week,
and the Memphis meeting, beginning
near the close of October, will wind up
the racing season in the West. As
between the two sections this fall the
East will very decidedly have the pres-
Hye. The much’ jarger amount of
ded money in stakes and purses will
serve to keep a considerable number of
Western horses this side of the Alle-
ghanies, and among them most of the
cracks or noted ones,
~The fourth annual exhibition of
the National Horse Show Association
has issued its {um list for the dates
November 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, at Madi-
son Square Garden. Ths prizes
amount to $15,000, distributed among
draught horses (not Ne douaaxy
or ormanal, Clydesdales, Normans,
ren Ee ey Han