The Watcher.
The Shesh are amothered in the snow;
‘he ohild-ayed stars are cleaving keen
The frozen air; and, sailing slow,
The white woon stares across the scene.
She waits beside the fading fire,
Che gasping taper flickers low,
And drooping down, and rising Lighes
Her shadow wavers to and fro,
No foot disturbs the sleeping floor,
No motion save the wintry breath
That, stealing through the crannled door,
Creeps coldly as a thought of death,
It chills her with its airy stream,
O cold, O careless midnight blast!
It wakes her as her fevered dream
Hath skimmed the sweetness of the past,
She stirs not yet. The night has drawn
Its silent stream of stars away,
Aud now the infant streaks of dawn
Begin to prophesy the day,
She stirs not yet. Within her eye
The half-crushed tear-drop lingers still;
Elie stirs not, and the smothered sigh
Breaks wave-like on the rock of will.
O heart that will anheeding prove,
O beart that must Caio break,
How strong the hope, how deep the love,
That burn for faithless folly’s sake!
TRIED BY FIRE.
“Marry Mr. Dysart? Thatold man?
Mamma, you are jesting!"’
She stood at the open window of the
shabby little sitting-room —a tall,
straight young figure in a clinging
black gown. A girl with a fair, sweet
face, brown eves, and golden hair—
Lucia Denelle.
At the other window—Dboth of which |
opened upon great, straggling, unkept
groumds——a delicate looking woman was
bending over a huge basket of darning,
All sorts and conditions of garments,
all of a diminutive size bespoke the
occupation of the weary, toil-worn
mother of small children,
Mrs. Denelle glanced up, with a pair
of tiny, dilipidated socks in her hand,
and her tired face grew more careworn,
as she suppressed a weary sight,
“Daughter, the very thought of your
being forced into a loveless marriage
breaks my heart. If you do not—can-
not—learn to care for Mr, Dysart” —
Lucia shrugged her graceful shoulders
disdainfully—*‘then I will say no more.
But he is good and kind, He offers to
settle a handsome income upon me, so
that the children can be properly edu-
cated, He offers to lift the mortgage
from this place, and secure it to me free
of all incumbrance; also to refurnish
and beautify the house, Really, my
dear, Woodland would be a lovely
place, with some necessary improve-
ments, and with means sufficient to
keep the grounds in order, And when
I reflect upon our forlorn condition
since vour poor father’s death, and
glance about me at the six little ones—
all younger than you, to be fed and
clothed and educated upon the mere
pittance which is left me from your
father's life insurance—it makes my
heart stand still, And Mr. Dysart
loves you. His elegant home is near
enough, fo that I would not have to
lose you altogether. Oh, Lucia, darl-
ng, I would never consent for you to
go far away.”
“Not even to Italy, mammie?”’
The girl's sweet face had grown ten-
dor and gentle. She came to her
mother’s side, and drew the unfinished
mending from her hands,
“Therel Jet me do it, mamma,
Truly I am not tired. I've only given
a music lesson this morning. Now,
mammie’’—with a mischievous smile,
which did not conceal the undercurrent
of anxiety in her heart—*‘answer mel
Mayn’t 1 go to Italy as Stuart Harland’s
wife?”
“Good heavens!”
Mrs, Denelle started to her feet, pale
and trembling like a leaf,
“Stuart Harland! a poor artist, Oh,
Laelia, this is madness!”
“Mamuna, I love him!”
“Madness—madoessl’’ repeated thé
mother brokenly., “Lucia, I would
rather see you dead. You are poor en-
ough now.” ’
“Mamma!'—-the girl's face was grave
and resolute—**I cannot endure the
thought of giving you pain, but I do
not love Mark Dysart, and I have given
my whole heart to Stuart Harland, and
can never marry any one else,’
Mrs, Denelle was wringing ber hands
in bitter sorrow. Neither of them ob-
served the tall, dark figure in the over-
grown grounds without, lying at full
length upon the garden s:&t, his bat
drawn over his eyes,
A man of middle age, with dark
Drown hair and beard just touched with
gray, keen gray eyes, and severe ex-
pression, The two women went on
with: Lhe discussion, and never dreamed
of the listener without.
“1 would not willingly grieve or cross
youn, Lucia,” Mrs, Denelle was saying
sadly, **but I shall never give my con-
sent.”
“Then — rebelliously — ““we shall
either have to marry without it, or-—
forgive me mamma’’—with a little ery
of pain at sight of her mother’s distress,
“No, I would never do that, But I
would be doomed to a life of loneliness
and unhappiness; and I kuoow that
would make you unhappy, toe.”
Mrs, Denelle made no y, and
Lucia went on with the before
her, All day long she worked; cook
ing, ironing, and mending for the noisy,
mischievous six, filled the time to over-
flowing. But Lucia, pale and patient,
worked away, and ing was un-
done,
When the sun had set and twilight
ien over the green earth like a
benediction, when the last youngster
was tucked away in his little bed, then
, She threw a
fleecy white wrap about
and went out into the
softly, I have spoken to the mother,
I wished to prepare her for your intend.
ed interview to-morrow; but, Stuart,
it is quite useless—quite. She will
never consent to our marriage; and-—I
cannot blame her, poor little mother!
It would be separation for us both, per-
haps forever. Oh, Stuart, Stuart!’—
the golden head went down upon his
shoulder, and the sweet voice broke in-
to sobs and tears--*‘I cannot give you
up!”
Pana you shall not,” he murmured
tenderly, “We will wait, dearlove.”
“I shall be old and gray and ugly,”’
she was beginning.
But he stooy
red lips,
“You may be as old as Methuselah,
and gray as a badger—ugly you never
can be under any circumstance, little
woman!-—but you shall be my wife just
the same. I will never give youup.”
And so their troth was pledged anew;
and Stuart Harland went home through
the silvery moonlight with a tender
smile upon his lips, and his dark eyes
shining with a happy light,
“I wonder who this fellow can be of
whom Lucia told me to night,”’ he
queried, as he walked along. “It is a
new arrival here, who has purchased
Beechwood — grand old place — and
Lucia says she met him last summer
while she was away in the West teach«
ing school. A rich western merchant,
and—by Jove! who is that?”
A tall, dark form loomed up before
him in the moonlight; an elderly man,
at sight of whom Stuart involuntarily
halted,
**Mr, Harland, is it not?" began the
stranger, quietly, “I would like a few
words with you, sir, if you please.”
Stuart bowed,
**As many as you like, Mr, ——u
“Dysart. My name is Mark Dysart,
Stuart Harland, did you ever hear that
name before?’
**Never, to my knowledge, until to-
night,’’ the young man returned quiet-
ly. **Can I serve you in any way, Mr.
Dysart?”
“Yes, I love Miss Lucia Denelle, If
you were out of the way she might
learn to care for me; and I am sure that
once my wife she would love me, for I
would be so kind and tender to her that
I could not fail to win her in time,
Mr. Stuart Harland, I understand that
you are a struggling young artist, poor
and proud, Oh, you need not get an-
gry, I did not mean any insult; I was
speaking for your good. I will make
you this proposition; I agree to pay all
your expenses to Italy where you can
perfect yourself in your art, 1 will do
more, 1 will make your name famous;
for, no matter how fine an artist you
may be, the world will nevar believe it
until sume rich and Influential man says
so. I will do all this for you; I will
make you the richest and most famous
artist of the day upon one condition.”
“And that?”
Stuart Harland’s voice trembling.
“Is—that you resign all pretensions
to Lucia Denelle’s hand! That you go
away and leave the coast clear. What
do you say?"
Trembling like a leaf, pale as mar-
ble, his great dark eyes blazing with in-
dignation, Stuart turned with unlifted
hand,
“Only your gray hairs deter me from
chastising yoa as you deserve!”’—he
ground the words forth between his set
teeth, “Out of my path, Mark Dysart,
or I shall forget myself, and striks you
down at my feet]
“Softly, softly, young man!” cried
the other, lightly. *‘I meant no harm.
1 was appealing to your worldly wisdom,
but I see—— Young man, give me
your hand! I have applied a severe
test, and I find I was right in my be-
lief, Come home with me, Stuart Har-
iand, I have a story to tell you.”
». -. » * . *
Two days afterwards Mrs. Denelle
saw upon Lucia’s white forefinger a
magnificent diamond ring.
The red blood rushed to the widow's
pale cheeks in a sudden flood.
Na Lucia going to be sensible, after
all?
“My dear’’—a dubious glance at the
ring—*‘I think you ought not to con-
ceal anything from your own mother! Is
it all settled, Lucia?"
“Yes, mamma—all settled; and I am
the very happiest girl alive.”
And the white arms went around
Mrs. Denelle's neck, and I.ucia’s lips
were pressed against her mother’s,
“Mamma, it is all so strange! I can
scarcely believe it even yet! But''--ghe
stopped short, blushing prettily—‘'‘they
are coming!”
“They” proved to be Stuart Harland
and Mr, Dysart.
Mrs. Denelle looked profoundly sur-
prised as the two men, arm-in-arm, en-
tered the cool, airy room where she sat,
“My dear Mrs, Denelle,”’ began Mark
Dysart, at once, *““I have wonderful
news to tell you! This young man
here, Mr. Stuart Harland, is my dead
sister's only child, and, being next of
kin, be will be sole heir to my posses-
sions, I have proved his worth, I
tempted him with everything that the
human heart can crave--riches, fame,
power—if he would relinquish his claim
upon your daughter's heart. But he
spurned my every offer, and would have
nished me for my audacity had I not
an old man. Mrs, Denelle, this
has all been a plot of mine from the
very first. I wanted to prove Stuart
Harland’s worth, I desired to make
and kissed the sweet
1
iG
Ninoun; or The Surgeon's Story
What I &m about to say I want you
to keep an eternal secret. Never breathe
it ton living soul, I married young.
My wife was a beautiful woman and I
loved her madly. I believed that I
could trust her and that she was fond
of me, but it seems I was deceived.
I came home one night unexpectedly
and was surprised to hear a man’s voice
in her room. Her brother Charles, I
knew, was away, #o I held my breath
and listened again, This is what I
heard:
“And vou are sure of your maid,
Ninon¥*?
“Oh, ves; she has been true to me for
years, And no one else is in our se-
cret, or knows that you are even here,”
He laughed wickedly.
“Iam thinking of my wife and your
husband. ~~ What an agreeable surprise
it would be for them to see us now?
But tell me one thing—-has he never
suspected anything? The child-—what
of that?”
She hid her beautiful face in his breast
with a smile, and murmured: *‘If he
thinks it is his own, Clarence, I am to
undeceéive him!”
What! was I dreaming? Would they
not even leave me that one sweet hope,
the hope of holding a child—Ninon’s
child and mine, in my arms, ere many
weeks had passed awayl Oh, my God!
had I been duped and fooled so miser-
ably as this? The room whirled before
me and if I had not leaned against the
wall for support I should have fallen,
I opened my eyes at last and looked
at them once more, He was a large,
the darkest eyes and hair and beard 1
had ever seen, Lying in his arms my
wife looked like a mere child, and her
Saxon beauty was heightened by the
strong contrast between them. He was
no stranger to me, He had often
grasped my hand in friendly greeting;
often spoken words of courtesy to her
while she leaned upon my arm and I
had never dreamed of this, Even while
1 thought of all these things, he bent
over her, gathering her closer to his
breast; she flung ber arms around his
neck, and ber lips were meeting his!
Oh! that roused me from the stupor in.
to which I had been plunged so long,
and the sharp report of my pistol rang
through the room in an instant, and
then 1 was beside them! She screamed,
and fell at my feet, as her lover sank
back, shot through the heart, and a
dead man. But I spurned her from me;
and rushing from the house I whistled
to my horse, who was crazing quietly
where I had left him, and rode away
like a madman, Before th: morning
broke I was in France and safe from all
pursuit, After fleeing from my home
on that terrible night I went to
America, to one of the wild Western
of medicine, of which I had always
been passionately fond. I heard no
more of Ninon—indeed, I dropped inter-
course with the friends who had known
ber and tried to forget mv folly of a
year. By degrees I grew cold and in.
different and what little heart I had to
bestow was given to my profession. I
grew mors and more absorbed in its
secreta, and so much of my time was
dents used to advise me to take up my
abode there altogether and to avoid the
bors of coming home each night to sleep,
And I am sure that I should have been
well pleased to have done so,
The college was not a well.endowed
one; there were few professors, and but
little enthusiasm among the classes
But after I came a subject was started
which roused us ali-the subject of
galvanism,
It was settled that we should obtain
a ‘‘subject’’ privately and experiment
ourselves, without the knowledge of our
Protoss, who would have put a stop
to it,
We had proposed dissecting the body
after our experiments had been tried
and the scalpel and the knives lay ready
at its head, while pails and sponges for
catching the blood were lying beneath
the boards. On the table stood also
three small phials—one Siis ding
liquid ammonia, one prussic acid
the other sulphuric ether, They had all
been used during some chemical experi-
ments that afternoon and had not poet
taken back to their places in the
laboratory.
I busied myself in arranging the wires
of the battery, when an exclamation
from the students made me look up,
“What is it?" I asked,
‘It is a female subject and the most
beautiful form I have ever seen. It
seems almost a pity to desecrate” —
I laughed sarcastically and stopped
him in the speech he was going to make,
I hated all women on account of one,
and [ think I was glad to be able to
offer any indignity to her sex.
watched me in si
the wires; but as
vulsive tremor played over
softly as the wind might play o
sleeping lake, there was a cry of horror,
and they tore me by main force from
the battery, and dashed the wires
AWAY.
“Are you mad?” I eried
“Good God! don’t you
alive?’! replied the one who had
she
ij
:
fe
£
it
to have her oneé more so near my
heart, even in that hour of agony and
remorse, ®
All was still as death in the room,
You could hear every laboring breath
she drew as plainly as if it had been a
groan, I snatched a cordial from the
table and held it to her lips, She drank
from the phial, and just as I caught
sight of the label, I saw that I had
given her the prussic acid! I hurled
the phial from me with a heavy groan;
but it was too late, and she was dying
a death which would this time be sure
and rapid, I fell upon my knees beside
her, and frantically implored her for-
givenes, but she hated me even then!
{er glazing eyes were turned on me to
the last, and she gasped out with a
breath, ‘Oh, I will haunt you!”
She has kept her word,
I am home in England again under
an assumed name,
I dream of her by night and she
curses me for killing her lover. By
day, whenever I am alone, I seem to
feel her presence, like some vulture
spirit waiting for my death, I will see
her again still, I belleve, though abe 1s
buried thousands of miles away.
It’s madness, I suppose,
Bixby Was Calm,
One of the Bixby children was seized
with a fit of croup the other night,
Bixby heard the little fellow’s labored
breathing, and bounding clear over the
| footboard of the bed, yelled “Croup!”
| in about the same voice that the escap-
| od idiot yells “Fire!” at the theatre,
Then he tried to put his trousers on
over his head, but Bnally got them on
wrong side out, and tore into his shirt
with it wrong side in front,
“Jump!” he screamed to his wife,
“There isn't a second to lose! Get the
syrup of squills!l Put ona tub of hot
water! Give him something to drink!
Get hot flannels on his chest instantly!
Hurry! hurry! Don’t lie there doing
nothing while the child is choking to
death! Fly around!”
Mrs, Bixby is one of those meek but
eminently sensible and practical little
women who never get a tenth part of
the credit for the good they do in this
world, While Bixby was racing up
and down stairs, declaring that nobody
was doing anything but himself, Mrs,
Bixby quietly took the little sufferer in
band,
“Do sometiing quick!” screeched
Bixby, as he upset a pan of hot water
on the bed and turned a saucer of melt-
ed lard over the dressing-case. “Here,
somebody, quick!’ he yelled, “Can't
anybody do a thing but me? Run for
the doctor, some of you. Give the child
some more squills. Is there anything
hot at his feet? Give him aconite,
He ought to have a spoon of oil. If he
don't get relief instantly he'll die, and
here there's nobody trying to do a thing
but me! Bring him some warm water
with a little zoda in it. He ought to
have been put into a hot bath an hour
ago. Heat up the bath-room! What's
on his chest! Great Heavens! has the
child got to die because no one will do
a thing for him?"
Mrs. Bixby quietly and
brings the child around all right and
sits with him until daylight, after she
hag quieted Bixby down and got him to
wd.
And next morning he had the gall to
say at the office: “One of my little
chaps nearly died with croup last night,
and I had mighty hard work bringing
working like 8 Trojan all night. It's a
terrible disease and scares women near-
ly to death. They fly all to pieces right
off. A person wants their wits about
them. You want to keep perfectly
cool and not fool away a second in hys.
terica, That's where a man has the
advantage over a woman in managin
a case of croup. It's mighty lucky
was at home to take my little chap in
wand,
The Air of Colorado.
All the resorts of Colorado known to
me where one can obtain the comforts
of life essential to improvement are at
at an altitude of several thousand feet
and this fact or some other unexplained
cause seems to creale a necessity re-
quiring those who improve or recover
there to continue their residence in or-
der to maintain their improvement, I
can not elaim that this theory has been
proven, but it is sufficiently believed to
demand consideration. So many inva-
lids have been sent to Colorado only to
die, being beyond the bility of re-
covery anywhere, that I think addition
ai knowledge from careful observation
ot results ov essential to ns formation
a satisfactory opinion in regard to
the effects upon those seriously diseased,
For those slightly diseased, or with a
delicacy arising from hereditary ten-
dency, Colorado seemingly ought to be
of best resorts. It has one
in having its moun.
tain resorts and altitudes for sum-
mer within a few hours frem Denver.
FASHION NOTES,
-Bedford cord is a handsome
Woolen material, resembling corduroy
without the velvet finish,
-Booteh plaid plush is 8 novelty In
dress fabrics, destined to have a cer.
tain popularity with dressy young
women,
~Single flowers of velvet arranged at
certain caretully spaced distances on
ball dresses of white tulle add to their
charming effect,
~Plain velvet and plush are less
fashionable than the changeable or
florescent velvets in two colors, like
the “shot”? silks,
~~ pera wraps of plush, velvet and
Persian camel’s halr are trimmed with
a bordering of crinkled Persian goat
fur, which resembles the liama trim-
wing, formerly so much admired but it
is more shaggy in effect,
~-For “Autumn” a short dress of
brown tulle, or pet, made with short
gathersd body and trimmed with au.
tumnal foliage and clusters of hazel
nuts nestling ig the folds, is pretty and
becoming,
~* ‘Summer*’ may be carried out in
a gracefully draped dress of poppy red
crepe, trimmed with trails of wild hops
and wild roses, Butterflies on quiver.
ing fine wire stems can be sparingly
used with excellent effect,
A eoncert tollette has the full front
and skirt in Henrletta cream color
cloth, with ruby velvet waist trimmed
with garnet besded passementerie,
The back of skirt is also of the same
shade of velvet, laid in pleats at the
waist,
~A gracefal mo lel of serpent green
cloth is trimmed elaborately with de-
signs in braided effects upon the skirt
in ashes of rose color, The corsage is
trimmed with gracefully arranged fold
draperies and braiding of the same
shade and style.
— Wedgewood isa quaint and orig-
inal idea for a fancy dress, The sateens
are done in true Wedgewood tints.
The gown may be fashioned in any one
of the many tints of the right shade,
and classical Kate Greenaway figures
in soft white material appliqued on.
—A stylish model for a street cos-
tume Is made of Gobelin biue cloth,
with graceful drapery in the back.
The front is mada of striped moire in
two shades, Jacket bodice, with
striped vest; a hat of felt of a corres.
ponding shade to dress, with changeable
moire ribbon and feathers trimming it,
completes the costume,
trayed In white satin, plentifully
trimmed with swansdown, and may
be made in the form of a polonaise cut
long and meeting the swansdown gar-
mitures of the skirt. A tiny muff of
swansdown, lined with vivid crimson,
and a swansdown hood or cap complete
the costume,
—The new house jackets of armured
pilot cloth, made in rich, dark colors,
| whether zouave, Russian or Hungarian
{ in style, are trimmed in military fash.
fon, with epaulets, high collar and re-
these covered with handsome
| gold $8 20 vu Shem entarien in fine ara-
bésque or { of the rich
silk-cord ornaments—placques, grelots,
pendelogues and like garnitures,
-For a quadrile of four sisters or
friends the four seasons make a strik-
| ing and pretty group. We lately saw a
| “Spring” clad in a very charming lit-
| tie polonaise of pale greén satin of ex-
i quisite tint, gathered high on one side
lover a skirt of moss-green velvel,
'eaught up with a bunch of daffodills
and & trail of ivy. The polonaise was
lnced with a silk Iscer the eolor of the
skirt, and more deiTodills and ivy were
prettily grouped in the front of this
altogether harmonious and bewitching
dress,
~As this is the season for fancy
balls and highjinks the fellowing de-
scription of a few fancy costumes will
prove of Interest: Fancy dress, unlese
carefully chosen, is apt to accsutuate the
age of ladies who have passed their first
youth, Especially is tiiis the case when
a costume even slightly more juvenile
than the wearer's years warrant is de-
cided upon. A fancy dress Injudi-
eicusly will make a woman look
faded and worn who in an ordinary gar-
ment is really pretty and fresh lookiag,
This is not to discourage them, but
he
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HORSE NOTES.
— Robert Steel will trot Eflis next
season,
~There are two pool-rooms in operas
tion In New Orleans,
~—Jay-Eye-Bee Is wintering at Mr,
Case’s farm in Wisconsin,
~—William Donohue will probably
ride for Mr, Belmont next year.
~A. Touden Snowden has sold his
b. m. Nora Temple to Robert Steel.
~-Ben Vincent has been engaged to
ride for Ed Corrigan next season,
~Rosaline Wilkes has joined Harry
J Hien and Gossip, Jr., at Morristown,
— Frank Rector wlll care for the
colts at Willlnm Disston’s Mount
Pleasant Stock Farm this winter,
~The old trotter Great Eastern,
with the fastest saddle record (2.15%),
is owned in Frederick, Md,
~Dr. D. L. Hughes, of Keokuk, Ia.,
owns the pacer Bichball, record 2.12},
and drives him on the road,
~The stallion Director (2.17) has ar-
rived at Mr. Saulsbury’s farm near
Pleasanton, in Almeda eounty, Cal.
—J. B. Haggin lost recently at Mon-
mouth Park the chestnut colt Mer-
cury, foaled 1885, by King Ban, dam
Flora.
~-olonel Snowden has soid his team,
Florence and mate, which he recently
purchased at the Bailey sale in New
York,
—The stallion Domestic has sc far
recovered as to be abis to be moved
from Detroit, where he has been since
last July.
~—R. W. Thomas, who trained Mr.
Honig’s horses this year, has engaged
with **Lucky” Baldwin at a salary of
$10,000, for next year.
Ed. Corrigan has sent Pearl Jen-
nings to California to be bred to Grin-
stead, instead of selling the mare to Mr
Baldwin, as reported,
~— Edward C. Amer has stopped driv-
ing, and has given all his stable effects,
including two wagons, harness, ete, , to
his friend Dr. Lobb,
— Tompkins, the jockey, was fined
$25 recently at New Orleans for slip
ping weight after having been weighed
to ride Pail Lewis,
— Both Ormonde and Bendigo have
been retired from the turf to the stud.
Bendigo will be placed at Biankney
with Hermit and Galopin.
~ Hon, leland Stanford, of Call.
fornia, will drive W. M. Humphrey's
5-year-0ld Electioneer gelding on the
road ut Washmgton this winter,
-—F. C. Robbing has bought of John
H. Cox the brood mare Mollie Garfield,
formerly Dollie Fone, record 2 264, and
her 4 months<ld colt by Manchesier,
~The Dwyer Brothers have pur-
chased of Mr, John Hannegan, of Mill.
dale, Ky., the bay filly Oesan, two
years, by Imp. Billet, dam Sabina, by
Lexington,
~J. H. Temple, formerly owner of
Harry Wilkes, Albert France, J. Q.
and other noted trotters, has formed a
partnership with Jesse DD. Grant, and
will figure in Wall street as 2 stock
operator,
~—Trainer John W. McClelland did
not accompany Mr. Baldwin’s horses
to California, and will not have charge
of the Santa Anita stable next year, as
he is quite ill at present at Louisville.
Prominent the candidates
for free-for-all honors next season will
be Harry Wikes, Belle Hamlin Prince
Wilkes, Clingstone, Patron, Oliver K,
Araband J. Q
—Feakes will succeed Littlefield ae
trainer of the Preakness stable. L.ittle-
fieid will retire solely because he thinks
he will find it more profitable to train
a stable of his own than troining for
any one elss,
~The b. m. Gazelle, 2.21, dy
Rysdik’s Hambletonian, dam Hattie
Wood, by Willis’ Harry Clay, died No
vember 10, at Saugatuck, Mich,, of in-
flammation of the bowels. Gazelle waa
foaled 1865, and owned by Stimson &
Co.
—Mr, Siddall has asnt the great
pacer Johnston and the trotter McLeod
to Crit Davis at Harrodsburg, Ky.
Davis will bave a powerful stable next
season. The honest and capable trainer
never wants for friends.
~The plan has been tned in Aus
tralia of using semaphores, such as are
in use at ramlroad crossings in this
country,
Secretary of the Washington Park
Club, of Chicago. in regand to arrang-
ing a race meeting to follow the spring
meeting at St. Louis,
i
Feil
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