ol ! man, who had given her lif» work fo others; first for her parents) fn for a invalid brother, lastly for »Wo orphan children, with sueh innumerable acts of neighborly kindness as only the records ing angel of good deeds knew. Well might she be tired! It was new to her to be caressed, to have tender hands lead her to her room snd looses her dress, a tender voice coax her to lie down, : “Now I will darken the window,” Dalsy said, **and you are to rest. Sleep, if you can, until after dinner time.”’ “But, Daisy, you cannot get thesdin- ner,” “I could get a dinner ever s nce I'wss a dozen years old,” was the quick re ply. and Aunt Mary submitted. Washing the potatoes, shelling Peas. | frying ham, making coffee, all allowed thought to be busy, and Dalsy sighing= | |ly put away some of. her day-dreams | | over her homely tasks. “I cannot be a lady,” she thought, “and John won’ be a gentleman, but | I will try to pay my share of the de.ts. n She had taken off her flounces and hat, and put on a plain dress and large | check apron before she began to work, and she was rather astonished, as her | kitchen duties progressed, to find ber- self happier than she had been sinceshe | returned home. : When John came to answer thgdin- | ner bell he was astonished to find unt | Mary, *‘quite dressed up” as he Biush- | ingly said, in a clean print dress and | white apron, ber dear old face showing | no sign of heat or wearin-ss, while | Daisy, with added bloom, «1 bare | S—— A ————r» If Tiknew what poets know, Would | write a thyme Of the buds thas never blow In tho summer time? Would I sing of golden seeds Springing up in iron wos, i And of raindrops turned © snoy If I knew what poets know? Did 1 know what poets do, Would I sing a song hd than the Hoi . Whe days : "W the I found a heart in palo { would give it peace again; And the false should be the tiie— Did | know what poets do. 's COO [£1 knew whai posts know, I would find [a theme Sweeter than the placid flow OF the fairest dream j-— I would sing of love that (i On the (FTOTs it forgives ; And the world would batter row If | kenoW what poets know —— IN PAYING THEIR DEBTS, John Ramsey was ploughing the sevep-acre 106, his careless, looses dress displaying to advantage his tall, mus- cular figure, and a broad straw hat shaded u handsome face, with large dark eyes set'peneath a forehead whose wreadth and bight promised a powerful brain. The hands that guided the plough were strobg hands, bat whiter wndomore delicate than such pursuits wwually allow. Dalsy Hale sat perched upon the top- most rail of the ance that enclosed the seven-acre | er dress was print 4 ee * but made with flounces on the ohiy White arms, was carryingin | ijaur and ruffles on the waist. Her short | _ The Rew giFl at your Servis’ er) rolden hai” was curled carefully in a paid, Sa as she pulted a p1IoY | fringe ove: her forehead, and gathered . nova, A youd 4 a Did ' into longe curls into a comb bebind, || ut er lips quivered as he bel very jaunty hat, | “€F and whispered. above wl sh Was a aps ” . col i God bless you, dear! Forgive me if | "OVE vith puffs of white mushin and & : bh i covered : . I was too hasty this morning. sf Live ribbon to match the spots i bows of b It was a merry meal. Toe; made a | upon her dress. i i Sud : : oRArAS The face under Daisy's bat was Play Jat Wil Mole han hap ogteah | gloomy, not 10 Say cross, A yery pretty | © unt Mary's being a great acc © face. but not pleasant, having a pet- | Yas 10 be waited upon, and no: alowed ‘age, Sid frow { a brood |W, rise from the table under auy con- tish, spotied-child frown, asl a broo sideration! Dinner over, Johpreturaed | ing dwcontens in the large Hue eyes. | 3 » a TM Presently the ploughman drew near to his ploughing, and Aupt Mary, | the fence, and taking off hishat, fanned rmly refusing to sit in dienes, Was | himself with it, stopping his horses Sliowed $0 wash eps aud sages}, while while he leased indolently against the Pe mace short work of § rails 2 ; ied : 4 wore “You lookdeliciously coa under this ow sald bu thle as Ho nb nyle 2 Rl id, * and—h'm—very ound Daisy at her pos great Shee for nine o’aock in the | W438 not in the nature of thpgs for BE ; Aunt Mary to sit with folded hands, | : Li . but it becam 's task to naugu- a oe er ste anid, gam rate Wt ee Se that © ly the i temptuously “When are you comin aps, 3'y the er } ! . ‘ ght Work Saint to we older ficda, to “At noon,io dinner.” pe AY ar less of a toll & ) ’ -~ « ¥ - - ““} 1s too absurd,’”’ she broke out, AT th Foung girl herself was Burs gy, Led I By “1 « pba s » 5H n Hh ey } gry, Lears 2 her eyes, for 3 JH Hu ® | prised to find how much sie -ujoyed | ploughing ard boeing and m.lking cows Ee Iife thal bad Samed 10 he AANEIE and doing th work of a Jaboring man. | ou igery aL Lad Jceilta ’ ? Shough! yes Jou Lau Some from Vith younger hands to cary on the college you vould do something besides | ymestic affair 4 they seemed Ui engroas work on a fam,” mestic allairs Laey § acl Le engross | *And lot he farm go to ruin? That SYE1Y hout of the day, and *oha) on would be a petty way to pay my Jebts.” | | Suraged Daisy in making ue Oi Lhe ‘Your deits!” she said, looking as. | 7-11, Suut=up PArIOr as a da 13 sitting - onishegl “bo you owe debts?” Foon A parr of Iu culains at dar dainly 3 ou and I are both each window wére skillfully draped to in bt Daisy, and I think | keep out the flies, the centrs abie re- unt Mary took us in, poor little signed its gay vase of still artificial I, he nephew; you, her second | flowers and stand of wax fruit to make " room for two dainty work-baukets for | “afternoon work,” and the periodicals { John bad sent to his aunt. "Over the shiny horse hair sofa and chdbs pretty | bits of embroidery were dmped, and | fresh flowers were supplied each day. Aunt Mary's caps, ber colars and | aprons were adjusted to suit the new order of things, and the easiest of ¢hairs stood everready for her resting Lime And John, bringing to his task the same will and brains that had carried iro thre oR inabnarating and that to take ber away from it him through college, was inaugurating | a new order of aflairs or farm, and wonid probably shorten her life?” | rade ihe'w , “She always has taken cam of it her- | Made the work pay wel! Once more came 8 a day, #3 : i Daisy sat on the fence of the seven-acre *Aro yom blind that youcannot see 3 how the (ant vesss she has been alone lot and John stood leaning against the : rails beside her. Four years of earnest wre haved aged hier, how {e#lle she is? . While we were living at ise in our | loving work haa lef: traces upon bo h ‘ollege sod s¢hool, ste has @iled for us | the young faces, eunobling them, apd : yet leaving to them all the glad content mtil she is wearied out,” “But you ould send he that rewards well-doing. Many hours vou wer tn the city in some | of sell-denial both bad me} bravely, iy eceapation, ’ i | many deprivations Loth had berns weil, “Parfaps 80, ten or tvslve years Daisy wore a black dress, aad upon the trom now. To day, 1 propos to plough | hat in John's hand was a band of crape. this lol and see how manybushels of | but though a sadness in their voices «orn I dan raise on it] there yel rang a tone of happiness, fle tiok ho'd of the plowh handles ‘You love me, Dawy?" Join had as he apbke, started the horses, and left | said to her. : ner, hegayes full of angry tars, | “When have I not loved yor?" she | *'He hight as well have sid what he | 8nswerd. . eos] meant,’ she thought, spriming down | And you will be my wife? larling, and eL1fing for the house. ‘Ile thinks | I have long loved sou, but afte: Aunt I ouglitth cook and wash and make | Mary was struck down with pardysis I Irutter, sod work Ike 3 sevant girl, would not ask you to take w new when 1 hate studied so har and tried | duties. Now she needs you no longer | to make myself a lady, tha be might and you shall leave the farm whenever | 10t be ashamed of me.”’ | you wish.” And yet, in het heart, sheknew that | ‘Leave the farm! Oh, John must he was ashamed of her, and that she | We leave it?” 1 thought it wa yours deserved it. Asbamed tha she could | DOW.” it is." sit in lr room, selfishly e gropsed in| S018. making pretéy articles of dr ss, or read- | ‘And you have made it beautful as ing whily her eousin, or, js she, too, | Well as profitable? Oh, John, why must called Ber, Aunt Mary, wikked in the | We leave?" kitehen, the dairgand the plultry yard, | ‘Only because I thougut it wis your from day's dawn till night, | wish,” She was not all selfshnes] and heart. | ‘It would break my heart to :4 vway. lessness, though there had grown a | | leve my bome, and since w+ have thick crust of bath over hed better na- | been able to keep a girl for the rc ghest ture. Her of 1adies hnd gentie- | Work I have leisure for many mon depended. ely upch clothing | things.” and pursuit, w bad nds yet quite | And John, taking the littls figure realized how muck more ndarly John's | into a close embrace to lift Daly from standard reached Yue desired point than | the fence, wondered if the grat city her own. \ | could produce a sweeter, daintie little , the sting | Iady than the on@he held in hij arms, of John's words jenetratef more and | ——_——————— snore through the Batterflits in Georgia. over her Lieart, un mc her at the door, In the fall but@rilies are alw in quantities on finny days fig | ward, The edit@ says: ‘West talk- | | ing to a friend mHut an hour oh Quickiy through all the seilishness, | day morning, wil an open 3 yt Foe over susin,” she rupted, “ssinee you 3e so particular know what you men, but am very sure that when Aunt lary sent you to college and me to the Brookdale Academy, she never intendsl to have us return to drudge on the horr' old farm!” “Do you Inew that all the money shies savel in a Jife of Lard work was spent on our education? Do you know that he has pothing nos but the farm, WL a t money, if entleman- 8 stab met | in at the sell-reproach struck atithe girl's heart, | yards or more ifmedially in beside the bw chair, arms around | passing before &, averagi the weeping woman, every minute. Bvriads may satis it? Onl please don't ory so! Obi what has hap- tmnt pened?" —The presentstyle of eaiing the hair has been suf estive of grace that would 101 be chedBdd at a mo- | ful ornaments. “ombs of tor- ment's notice—*don’t folnd me, I'm | toise shell are of those | are worn Could she ave struck fie when an increfd decoration is de- sired. For full Pari- loops of ribbon, * which are duced a few nattal{looking lewves or a flower, : and in a moment she ba her knees | us, and counted he migrating br “Oh! Aunt Mary, the open piny wks.” “Whe, Inisy, dear" J8hrough sobs only tired, dearie—only’ ind.” mounted in Bopulary alse THE FERRET FAMILY. A Plucky, Pushing and Predatory Species of Animals, The struggle for existence among the lower animals is a matter which em- ploys the greatest part of daily routine, I'his battle is also waged in the human family, but is masked by the more ex- pansive reasoning powers of man, The lower animals are so innocent of wrong, so disingenious, so frank, that the sel- fishness of it all is apparrent to the most casual observer, Among carnivorous animals living in their natural haunts there is little done bevond a constant search for food and to rest the necessary hours allotted them for sleep. It is a matter as to whether to eat or be eaten. Ferrets are probably the most essen- tially selfish of all animals, and know better how to survive than any other. age and indomitable perseverance, any animal eaught by them has small hope It seems that ferrets which belong to the weasel family, were brought from their homes in Africa bythe into 8S was overrun with rabbits, desolation of ened, They become natur alized they cannot a manner domesticated, tection and support, For a long period t snaky little creatures have been employed in hunt. hese i hunting rabbits, They were have our word ferret from this name, All the weasels are carniverous, a have long slim bodies and short | ¥ MT OK . 4] body they are called by scie form carnivora, that is: animals with worm shaped Having such little slim forms t 3 } Hey can pregnable to their other enemies, These animals have great streng their small size, larger animals, They inspire great fear, completely terrorizing the poor victim, This is not to be rabbit, squirs Sitbing at t vel or rat feels itself bottom of row surrounded by its family, Si without warning mother rabbit with a sts to find ; ur of caleulating @ 3, and g white teeth more than ready tear lesh and WL Upon ood of her | Ferrets ma t ¢ 15 Anna: Xingu are not content w i 116 es fixed upon her and he abe eatnin ¥ Sift t ACUI], i) ¥ Lier In in tl » AW wena de Le [ Yeuirs, is a pe LOW AL end of time, The and I'hey iin ding method } Dest foe fest Jeit Tot Tess PEL 0 ARENA ALB DUITOW, y I are pot at all modest about inva- PRIVACY of the than half a MNOS ond bunnuy’s house, bre're'r of close 150 “red 3 ¥ i alti 35 80 minute sagrh fired out ing a hem or Lh t x 4 ©y iwlfore and Campering They kill ul nking thelr teeth into base of the brain, t 3 { his habit that one can say ¥ arid bs " em Wikil On back SO snap, si the bo we i13at ii invariably is this way received its injury from some member of the weasel family, In the same group of carnivora are found martins, polecats, ermines—a va- riety of the polecat-—skunks and others, the latter well known on account of value as a fur bearer. small portion of offensive liquids, most marked in the skunk, which they use as a means of defense. They all have long, slender bodies, sharp claws, short legs, and a large-sized appetite for blood. The claws of the ferret are sharp and strong, and by means of them it can climb trees to rob nests; eat eggs or Lit- tle birds, and probably catch an ocea- sional squirrel. All of the family except otters live upon blood and flesh, The latter live near the water, and are such expert divers and swimmers that they can catch fish, with ease plunging into the water, summer and winter, and seldom coming out without a victim, Ferrets are capable of being domesti- cated, but are more or less dangerous, Besides theyshow no affection whatever for the one who cares for and feeds them-—a most unsatistactory trait in a pet. They are fond of bread and milk, a diet which, if alittle meat be occa- sionally added, will keep them in good health, On account of their intrepidity they sometimes attack human beings, A case is related where a large-sized one nearly killed a baby, and would surely have done so had it not been discovered and driven off, Another story showing the flerceness of them is told of a bargeman whose boat was infested with rats, He gota ferret and let it loose, It stayed away #0 long that he fell asleep in bed, but in an hour or so was by a pain near his eye, which he found was caused by the ferret. The beast had left off hunt- ing rats, and climbing upon the bed, had sunk his teeth into the bargeman’s cheek, where it resisted all means to make it Jet go. As last its head was cut off, and even then the jaws had to De he asta Bas given its name armas to the English language with a meaning in accordance with its own disposition. To ferret out a secret. That is, by cun- ning and perseverance to drive out the secret from its lurking place, as the animal does the rabbit, EE ————— Romance Along she Shore. There is a great deal of sentiment connected with the sen, There is also a great deal of lying connected with the seashore. At Asbury Park there were a great many omnibusses bearing the sign, “To Shirk River.’l Shark River should have been named after at least one shark. He ought to have been at least ten feet long. If he died after they named the river im his honor, some other shark, even if only three feet long, should have dropped around once ina while to see that the river was all right. After those signs had stared me In i the face for four days I pag the sum | of one dollar to be taken to Shark { River. I found it to be a rivulet, with | just about enough water to rinse the | whisky out of a shark’s throat. “Who named this river?” 1 asked of the driver. | “Some college gals, I believe,” “Was a shark ever seen here?” “No.” “Pid you or any of the rest of you | swindlers ever see a shark within fifty miles of the place?”’ “No,” “Do you expect to?” “*No, but you don’t want vo ta ke it named that old saw-mill down there | sistently call this Mud Creek any | longer. They called it ‘Dolphin Sound’ iat first, but finally changed ii to | Shark River to catch greenhorns.’ | Dale,” and “Surf “Mount Grant” one day to hunt them up, and see | wouldn't be best to change hotels, fiom the worst plece { coast, There wasn’t a dale on farm, There wasn't a spot where a | dale could have been constructed at a million dollars’ expense. “You take boarders, don't you?’ we | asked of a raw-boned youth who hung | over the fence with his tongue out. “Yaas."” “How much per week?" “We go by the sezun, and if they { sticks up their nose and is too darned | pertickler they doan’ git It here “tall.” “Who named the place, “Mam.” “What did she call for?" 50's to git $7 a week for board.” From there we drove to Mount Grant, a mile away. There was a farm- house and a mountain. The moun tain was six feet above the level of the sea, and as much as a rod long. The farm-bouse was warranted to have been erected in 1778, and to bave re- duced tha price of board to summer 5 ‘Silver Dale’ it now dropped to $8 per week. They didu’t eéharge for board, but for the presence of Mount Grant, which was the only mountain of that name aony- where on the coast, The woman hadn't any boarders just then, bul was ex- pecting a preacher, a retired professor of music, and a nich man’s son wilh sore eyes, Surf Retreat was half a mile be- low. The Retreat consisted of a double son with their families. rods to the surf, and there any surf after you got there, The old man took us aside and warned us not to think of securing board on the son's side of the house, owing to the fact that him and his wife were great hands to fight and jaw before company, and { she didn't know enough to boil pota- toes with the hides on. Then Jim took us aside, He didn’t want to say wasn't we must run the risk of being robbed and murdered. Doth followed us down the road as we Surf Retreated, and the last thing the old man said was: “You'd batter close with me at §10 a week. The of that, and we den't object to smok- ing or swearing,’ And Jim added: “I'll give you a room looking out | to'rds the sea, and farnish you dime novels and plug tobacco free gratia, If | you can’t come, please give the snap | away to your friends. The Royal Academy in Sweden. While in Engiana the institution academy” is causing much perturba- tion of spirit it is interesting to see how in the far north another institution which goes by the same name is flour- ishing and appreciated alike by sover- eign and people. The Swedish Acad- emy, based on the same principles as the Academic Francaiss, has recently celebrated its hundredth anniversary, and King Oscar was one of the guests of the “Eighteen,” [is speech deliv- ered on that occasion is full of eloquent passages, from which we takes the fol- lowing, as illustrating the progress of civilization in Scandinavia. That the statement is in no way exaggerated will be acknowledged by all who are acquainted with the literature of the north, which, unfortunately, is far too little known in England: “The Swedish language,” said the king, “sang its [first saga in the early morning hours of our history. On the northern sky the day appears but slowly, and slowly Christianity and culture pressed through the dark of heathenism into the loneliest parts of the north. But before lo there sprang from pure lips, in the depth of our dark pine forests, the songs of the people, and in the semi-darkness of the + FASHION NOTES, ~A charmingly pretty, but not very useful, is the crepe lisse pocket hand. kerchief, light as air and embroidered around the edge in floral desigms of great variety. ~The newest umbrellas have the ball tops made of petrified wood, with a pillar of the same Introduced at the top of tae handle below the ball. Those with silver storks and emu heads are very beautiful, but are apt to soil the gloves, —There are lovely caps for baby boys this season. One 18 a round cap in lamb’s wool, the edges bordered with a cord and plaited beneath the brim. Another is covered with richly worked guipure, and many olhers are made in wool and embroidered all over the silk, — Fedora, Mechlin and Oriental are the most popular laces used. French thread and Chantilly lace will super- sede Spanish for trimming and general use. White and colored crepe lisse, exquisitely embroidered with daisies and other flowers, will be used at the wrist and throat of handsome dresses, Bonnets are somewhat more tional in shape. Toques, with low, square crowns, somewhat recalling the | a model of thisstyle has the crown ol | red velvet, the brim, narrow and slight and light as silk. ~The chief novel feature in | cloths, is that fancy woven ones are Lo { be worn Instead of plain, especially | boucle, frise and plain stripes, These Some of the fine vicunas have | forming checks; pthers have a large, soarse check on a dice ground, —A redingote of bronze-colored open-work woolen material Is throughout with dark cardinal silk. | The back is simply made, having long large butions two | waist and finished with of oxidized silver. There are wide bands of cardinal ing from the neck to the feel. vet, four of the silver bullons being placed on each side of Lhe revers. Blue fox and golden-brown beaver are to be very popular fur trimmings, though not to the exclusion other handsome kinds ienable all the summer past, is to lose noe of its popularity during this and t winter season, with this beautiful iat the fur is really blue. as impossible as a blue rose. But blue fox has a certain tinge metallic grayish blue which in a degree justifies the name bestowed upon it, color. Blue fur is of ~The taste for antique ornaments still prevails, and on the black velvet neck-bands, which are again percepti- ble in which ago. Wrought metals In Indian, Roman and Norman are all pressed into such service, lets are being utilized as bracelets, now designs the arm that accommodates itself their otherwise inconvenient size, —A dress of dark-blue faille and striped wool has the skirt of the striped materials laid in deep plaits in front and draped full in the back. A broad trimmed with an jornament of lrrides- tassels, striped material opens over a plaited plastron, crossing it beneath the bust with nun’s folds, and is trimmed with lace of a brownish tint, The sleeves are of faille and are bordered with cuffs of the lace surmounted by a rosette of faille ribbon. Trimmings are lighter and voluminous than last summer, Capotes are smaller still, if possible, their flat jess peak in front is done away with, which is perhaps a pity, as it is so becoming | with a cluster of light feathers, three | loops of ribbon and a scrap of lace | falling in a damty little fanchom in | the middie of the border; the crown is | ornamented with a flower embroydered | in silk and gold over a piece of tulle { laid over the velvet; this crown is half | plain, half plaited, dented in the mid- | dle; no strings, or else long strings of | tulle, which look pretty, but are very For town-costumes and reception. toilets large pinked-out ruches have once more come into fashion. A very t half-mourning toilet 13 made thus: A skirt of iron.gray glace silk is edged round the foot with a very thick pinked-out ruche. A second skirt of woolen crepon of a lighter shades of gray is gracefully drapped over it. On one side a double row of bows of gray ribbon formed a sort of ladder pattern. A tight-fitting bodice of crepon, opened straight down the | front over a chemsette of heliotrope foulard. A narrow ruche trimmed the fronts of the bodice; the turned-up col- lar and the sleeve-facings were of gray velvet. Three bars of velvet crossed over the chemisette, and were fastened with smail bows of ribbon, in the mid- thers was a steel buckle; similar buck- Jes on the collar and sleeve-facings. A return to the ancient mode of ornamenting the outer sticks of a fan 18 observable this season. Upon many are to be seen butterflies, dragon-flies and scarable in raised mosaic. On others are shown in enamel the pre. dominant colors of either the founda sion or the ornament of the fan. Gar sapphires and emeralds are now uniting with diamonds to accentuate the floral designs seen upon those rich creations represented in Brussels point. Most of the less costly fans are of fine gue, on which are ted flights of or groupings the same upon branches of HORSE —A jockey club has been organized in Kansas City, and a mile course is in course of construction. —Jimmie McKee, the well-known driver and trainer, is siill very ill at his home, In Plaintield, N. J. —The blk. m. Flash, 2.19}, by Bone- setter, 2.19, owned by J. D. Rockfeller, of Cleveland, has folaed a filly by Phal- las, 2.13%. —Robert Stee! purchased of General Withers, of Lexington, Ky., a yearling filly by Happy Medium, dam by George Wilkes. Price, $1000. —John Splan has sold the b, m. Cora Belle, by Hambletonian Piioce, 0 Major 8, N. Dickinson, of New York, as a mate for Flora Hofl. —Lady Leah, record 2.24}, formerly | owned by Wash Dickinson, of this city, has been trotting in the Houth, and 18 wintering at Greenville, 8, C, — Alden Goldsmith, a noted horse- | man, died on Sunday night Dee. 19th | at Blooming Grove, Oramgs county, | New York, aged 66 years. He was the | trainer of Goldsmith Maid and other { famous horses, | ~The auction sale of the blooded | stock belonging to the late Fred. | Archer, the jockey, has been completed | at Newmarket, Eagland, It realized a total of £3585, Chilperic brought AAR IRD | £840, —Mr. Lakland bas purchased of Mr. John M. Clay, of Kentucky, two | yearling fillies, one by Longfellow, out | of Ballet (Mudesty’s dam) by Planet, | the other by Longfellow, dam Cicely | Bowling, The price reporied Was | $4000, Jt is said that James Murphy has left the employ of J. B. Hagin, and that Mr. Haggin’s old trainer, William Claypole, has taken his place, and, in | conjunction with Mat Byrnes, will | train the horses of the Rancho del Paso | stable, —1.. T. Yeager, of Boyle couniy, Ky., sold to Egmont Lawrence, of Loa- | don, Eag., on the 9th instant. a 3-year- {old gelding, by Danville, Wikes, for { $10. This is oue of three colts gol by | Wilkes as a 3-year-old, Salbe Vagin and another, owned by George Doght, of Lincoln, being the other two. —The Duke of Westminster heids | the list of winning owners in England | this year with £24432: Mr. Manton | coming next with £14,200: then Mr: | Abington with £11,439, and then Mr. Jarclay with £10,624. The Duke of Beaufort follows with £9563, and Mr. Douglas Baird with £0474 and the | Duke of Hamilton with $3378. —General W. G, Harding, proprielor | of the Belle Meade stodk farm, located | near Nashville, Tenn., who died Dec. { 16th was 78 years old. He was one of the best known breeders of running horses in the United States. He had been in ill health for several years, but nevertheless manifested great iulerest in turf matters generally and in the | success of his great breeding establish- ments, where many of the best horses of the land were reared, General Hard- ing turned over the mavaiement of Belle Meade some years ago to General W. H. Jackson, his son-in-law, who bas since added much to the value of the fine farm of 400 acres. Isaac Murphy, the colored jockey, is described as x gentleman ali over, He was reared in an excellent white | family, and his mmaorrs were as care- fully cultivated as the heirs of the house | who are his dally associales; ke is a man of refined feeling, never gets off | smutty jokes, avoids crowds when they | are being told, doesn’t swear, use tobag. eo or drink, and seldom talks horse, He | is about 23 years old, and has a very | pretty wife, who scarcely shows the shadow in her blood, Murphy gets £15,000 a year and expenses, with the | privilege of riding in outside races, none | of which pay him less than §25, and | from that up “into the thonsands,”” He wis worth about $50,000, —A dispatch from Pittsburg says | Jewett, the pacer, 1s still held by Pater Schatz. Several months ago be was i sold to Conrad Schaefer, of Frankfort, | Germany. Schaefer paid Schatz $5000 on account, the balance, $12,000, to be | paid when the borse was delivered. | Schaefer was to take the horee away | some weeks ago, but did not do so. When asked the reason, Schatz replied: “Jewett 1s still here, and I'm going to keep him until 1 get the balance of the money due me. They bought him for $17,000 and gave me $500), the balance to be paid when they get the horse. But they have not given ne the §12 000 yet. You know those horseman who bought him for Schaefer are slick, and horse laws are 50 funny that I have got Jewett hidden, Even my son does not know where the animal is. Only two men do beside myrelf. [I'm going to keep him until I get that $12,000, I. saw him last week, he is looking good. Just you wait until next summer and he'll show Harry Wilkes how to go. He was too fat last summer when he paced against Wilkes, ~The best running records made in 1886 are as follows: At seven furlongs —Joe Cotton, 4, 106, at Sheepshead Bay. 1.274; Rico, 4, 90, ai Chicago, 1.274: Telie Doe, 4, 105, at Washing- | ton, 1.274; Bertie R., a, 103, at San Francisco, 1.27}; King Fox, 2, 112, at Sheepshead Bay, 1.27§. The previous best was 1.284, by Joe Murray and Lit- tle Minch, Mile and a sixteenth—Jim Douglass, a, 122, at Chicago, 1.474; Little Joe. a, 89, at Chicago, 1.48. Pre. vious best, 1.48], by Creosote, 114, at Louisville, in 1882. Mile and a six- teenth heats Binette, 5, 110,.at San Francisco, best four consecutive heats 1.50, 1.404. 1.50, 1.50, 1.504 Mile and three sixteenths—Highfligut, 5, 107, ats Lexington, 2.014; Exile, 4. 126 (on the | Sheepshead Bay, ey; Edi | i i * * : Sheepshead es 5 101, a. : rer, a, : Previous bast 2.03}, made Re 100, at Monmouth Park, 10,1 Mileand a q 01 116, Chicago, 35 Ia V Jaxinglon, 14m: Pa oseph, made F225 * * ssw : I 5 - g zee "a - “Mile 115, gust, 1 Bh
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers