The Golden Wedding.
“I'ne day but not the bride is come,
As in her blossom time;
But golden lighta sustain the hom
She cherished in her prime,
May we not call upen the band?
~ May we not ask the priest?
Our golden wedding is at hand,
Aud we shall hold a feast.
But where is he in snow-white stole
Whe the old service read,
That made us ons in heart and soul?
Tong, long has be been dead.
The bridesmaids clad in silken fold
Who waited on the bride,
Where are they now? Their tale is told;
Long, long ago they died.
Where is the groomsman, chosen friend,
The true, the well-beloved?
His term, alas! is at an end;
Too soon was he removed.
Where is the bride, ah! such a bride
As every joy foretells?
I nee her walking Ly my side,
I hear the wedding bells,
W here is she now? That we should say
Sbe did not live to know
How passed her silver wedding day
50 many Years ago.
Hut come, aud for your mother’s sake,
Though vain it were to weep,
Let us the silent feast partake,
Her golden wedding keep,
IN MAGGIE'S GARDEN.
“I hope they'll be nice,” said Celia,
thoughtfully biting her crochet-needle,
und looking through the porch-vines to-
vard the next house,
“They won't be,” said Maggie,
winging her pretty foot from the rail-
ng on which she was perched, “I'm
ertain of it; and besides, Celia, what
{ they are? It isn’t likely they'll have
uuch to do with us. Anybody rich en-
yugh to buy the Moulton House asso-
‘iatinz with the poor little dot of a
aouse next door! Oh, no!”
Magrie spoke with calm conviction,
ind an entire absence of despondency.
She was a sensible and independent
little person,
Celia was watching the unloading of
+ van at their new neighbor's gate,
“I am afrail they are awfully rich!”
she admitted, “They've unpacked
some of the things out of doors, and
the furniture is lovely — plush and
stamped leather, and cherry bed-room-
sets; and they've a grand piano.”
“Well,” said Maggie, gaily, ‘let em
have ‘em. We've got cane-seated
chairs and a cretonne sofa and pine
bedsteads and a melodeon; and what
wore could you ask for?”
“Well, a few.things, perhaps,” sald
elisa smiling at her bright younger
sister,
“If Tom Carson gets
ZrOCETy
wringly.
“Pshaw!” said Celia, getting red.
“In all probability you can have
Lem,’ Maggie concluded, and jumped
lown and tripped away.
She went around to the rear of the
ouse, and down to the garden.
It was not a large garden, and there
was not much in it now but cucumbers
and tomatoes, Bat it was a remark-
able garden, nevertheless; for Maggie
had made and tended it herself. ller
mother and Celia had protested, but
Maggie had gone determinedly to work.
For the possession of a garden sub-
stantially reduced their grocery biils, if
rich in the
business—"' said Maggie ban-
' had decided
afford to hire Pat Murphy this
And she was proud of her gar-
and Maggie
ouldn’t
VEAr,
ien,
They had had lettuce and onions, and
wans and peas; and Maggie's round
fzce was browner, and her robust health
more robust, than it bad been in
May.
Jt were Maggis’s tomatoes that made
the troutde, She burst into the sitting-
room, a week later, with excited speed.
“What do you think?” she demand-
ed, breathlessly, “They keep hens—
yea, there are fifty, if there's one; and
there ain't a sign of a ben-park; and
I've just been chasing them cut of my
tomatoes —my fomatoes | ’ said Maggie,
almost tearfully. :
are so wide apart they can hop right
on, They'll have to put up another
fence—that’s ail."
gle commented,
wy willing to do something.”
“Nice and quict!”’ said Maggie, with
sarcasin, “I should think so. The
pokiest old couple you ever saw,
wnty, if they're a day, and-—well, just
misers; I know they are
the nam? Tisdale?—Well, Mr, Tis-
lale, he wears the most dreadful old
clothes; a coat that's just shabby, and
a bent-in hat. And she goes about in
an old blue sacque that must have come
out of the ragbag; and you ought to
see her bonnet—such a thing!”
“Perhaps they're in reduced circum-
stances said Celia, reprovingly.
ings?’ said Maggie, unanswerably,
“Oh, no! And-to come back to the
hens—they mus® fix that fence, I can’t
ime my lovely tomatoes, Think of all
the cans wé wers to have, Celia—Chili
ance and pickles, and the little yellow
ones in preserves! Oh, I won't give
them up to Mr, Tisdale's hens!
And Maggie wandered into the yard
again in alinless anxiety.
Mr, Tisdale was just over the fence,
hoeing about the roots of a grape-vine,
Maggio looked at him in contemptuous
astonishment. What niggardliness! to
do himself, and at his age, work which
he could so well afford to hire done,
He was decidedly common-looking; he
had a broad face and small eyes, and a
stubby beard, and he had on a
cout with frayed sleeves, and a patch
on its back.
Maggie stood irresolute; Mr, Tisdale
did not look inviting, Then she step-
ped to the fence firmly,
Even then a straggling flock, headed
ty a highly-colored, pugnacious-look-
ing rooster, was coming through the
pickets and toward the tomatoes,
“Mr, Tisdale!’ sald Maggie, timidly,
Mr, Tisdale hoed on without re-
gponse,
“Mr, Tisdale!” she repeated,
He did not turn the fraction of an
inch, Maggie gazed at him,
Pp
sa
He to
Hig hoe In utter silence, clon
Maggie gasped. What a boor! what
a brute] ‘What would Celia say now?
1 he flock had reached the tomatoes,
She could see them contentedly pecking
there—a dozen of them, What should
she do?
The old man raised his head at this
juncture and looked at her. Maggie
looked sternly into his sharp little eyes.
“I want to ask you, sir,” ahe said,
with severity, ‘‘about your hens.
They’re ruining my tomatoes as fast as
they can, and I've worked over them
all summer, and we can’t afford to lose
them. Won't you—"’
She stopped—not because she had
finished, but because Mr. Tisdale, after
a blinking inspection of her had turned
about and gone on hoeing without a
responsive syllable.
Maggie's face burned
pretty lips trembled.
If 1 were a man!” she murmured,
with her little brown bands clenched.
“How can he? What does he mean by
it? The beast!”
The clucking in the tomato patch
had reached a triumphant pitch, and a
fresh flock had wandered through the
fence,
Maggie forgot Mr. Tisdale. The
hack was coming down the street from
the noon train, laden with passengers;
but she cared not for the observation of
hack passengers, nor, for the matter of
kings and queens.
She seized her white, beruffled apron
in her trembling bands and rushed to-
ward the garden,
There was a wild cackling, a fright-
ened peeping of little yellow balls, and
a frenzied scattering.
“Shoo—shoo!" cried
hotly ; her
Maggie,
approaching tears, ‘‘Shoo!"
If the hens were alarmed and tem-
porarily routed, the brilliantly-tinted,
sulky-eyed rooster was not.
He stood motionless on the spot where
Maggie's onslaught had found him
| motionless save for a rising, a swelling,
while his eyes grew fiercer,
Maggie shook her apron with cyclonic
energy.
“You impudent old thing!" she cried,
the laughter struggling through her
tears, and charged upon him valiantly.
She felt a sudden whir fa the air, an
angry upraising
to her face with a little scream,
A sharp peck came down on her
fingers; she heard his fluttering wings
in the air, close at her face.
She lowered her head into her apron,
fist. And then she heard rapid strid-
ing steps, and a rattling crash through
| stricken squawk, choked in iis first
| stage, a flapping of wings, and silence.
Maggie took her head out of the
| apron.
It was as though her fairy godmother
—if she had oune—had been at work.
Mr. Tisdale’s rooster lay on the ground
in an expiring flutter, his sheeny neck
twisted, his wirlike eyes forever dulled.
And close at her side, anxious and
agitated, and withall most attractively
nice-looking, Sood a strange young
man in a well-fitting, travel-s'ained
suit, and a soft traveling-cap. Fallen
among the tomato-vines were a cane
and umbrella, strapped together,
“Are you hurt?” he said.
He had taken out his handkerchief,
and was pressing it to her Land, on
which the blood had started.
“I saw it from the hack you see, and
I lost no time in getling over. Do you
think your hand is hurt?”
“No,” said Maggie, bewilderedly.
But she was not quite dazed, She
saw that the hack had stopped at the
Tisdales’ gate, and that a trunk was
tinloading from it,
He had come on a visit; a relative,
probably, She feit a thrill of regret at
that,
“No, she said, gratefully; "it wa»
just a peck. How very good in you!
And look at your handierchief!”
“My handkegchief!'’ said the ycung
man reproachfuily.
For Maggie, her pretty, brown face
flushed and her eyes softly smiling,
looked very sweet, despite her rumbled
hair and her wrinkled apron; and there
was something more than mere polite
| ayes,
He took her arm, still anxious, and
{of the garden, There
them both, and they both sat down.
“Thank you! I do feel a little queer,
| T was frightened,” Maggie admitted,
“And—I can’t thank you enough for
| your goodness. What should I have
| done? I think he really meant to kill
| me—and just because I wanted him to
| go home!”
| He joined in her laugh, reassured by
| her brightness,
i “Home?” he
i next door?"
| Maggie nodded,
“They have so many chickens, and
| they're all so fond of my tomatoes.”
They laughed. Somehow they felt
as though they had been acquainted a
long time,
“I must see to that,” said the young
man, decisively. **1’ll speak to Wilson
about it. He must have a park built,
| certainly,”
“Wilson?” said Maggie, timidly,
“My man - gardener, or what you
please—he does a little of averything,”
he explained, smiling. *'They came on
ahead, you know-—is your hand better?
—he and the housekeeper—to get things
settled a little. Why, you didn’t
think,” he queried, studying her puz-
zled face, *‘that they owned the house?
that they were the people?’
ile could not help laughing. And
he took a card from his pocket-book
and gave it to M @, getting up to
bow with burlesque formality, It bore
the name of Harlan OC. Tisdale,
“Yes—yea, woe did!” said Maggie
rather faintly, *‘Merocy, 1'm so glad!”
And then Yio blushed, and could have
bitten her 3 but Mr. Tisdale
looked deligh
“I—you see, he was 80 horrid,
Magis explained, coufusedly, “I
spoke to him about the fence, and he
wouldn't even answer me; he didn't
pay the lighten attention,”
flson!l Did he
rumor No said Maggle,
r
wondering ir ooming next.
“Oh well, he’s awfully deaf!” her
*
repeated. "What!
‘new neighbor observed, with twinkl-
ing eyes.
And they both laughed again; he
gaily, she bewilderedly, and both with
shy enjoyment,
“My mother came with me; we're all
the family,” said Mr. Tisdale, hastily,
as Maggie, half-frightened at the odd,
new pleasure in her heart, rose, ‘You
must come over and see her, You're
sure you're not hurt?”
“Very sure,” said Maggie, flushing
under his eager eyes.
And she put her hand trustfully into
the one he held out to her,
“I was mistaken, Celia,’” sald Mag-
gie, when she sat down, with restored
calmness, at the dinner-table; they are
very nice, indeed, the Tisdales— the
Tisdale,”
“What!” said Celia.
And Maggie explained at enthusias.
tic length,
“He wants us to call on his mother,”
she concluded, prettily. ‘‘Of course
we'll go.”
“But it isn’t likely they'll take any
notice of us,’ said Celia, slyly.
“But—why, Celia, it's different, you
know,” said Maggie, with a blush,
“Ah, Yes!” said Celia, smilingly.
And, with shrewd foresight, she was
almost as certain at that minute as she
was somes months later of having Mr,
Tisdale for a brother-in-law.
RR
Funny Things in Mexico.
Almost as good as a baclenda bull-
fight is the spectacle of an Indian
coachman in English livery. The dark
under a tall hat, his slight form incased
in a thick cloth coat, make up a picture
| for a comic artist, Add a foolman in
{the same stiff livery, and the sight is
| provokingly funny. Both sit, as per
| instructions, grimly on the box, and
they essay that which is impossible to
| them, an absolutely differentalr, wirich
lis relieved by a grin at the corners of
the mouth, There is, too, a hopeless
| sort of look on the poor fellow’s faces,
| as if they were inwardly saying, “*We
| don't like this sort of thing, 7ou must
| see, and only wish we were back in our
sombrerogand short jackets.” in which
| these men always lok artistically pict-
uresque. It is a mistake to introduce
English livery into this country. The
men are not suited to it, and it only
a ludicrous
to the vehicular
{ends in giving them
| whick: adds nothing
| dis lay,
There are some minor poin's of cus.
oddly. For example, it seems queer to
| purchase sage for the dressing of a fowl
{at the apothecary shops, to which
must also go for soda for cooking
| stock, but you are referred from them
to the hardware store. An apothecary
| does not sell whole packages; that is,
you can’t buy a bottle of patient medi-
| cine at your apothecary’s, but you must
igo to a wholesale drug store, Rope
| takes the place of nalls in temporary
erect stagings tied with cord for their
work, and It is rare that one of Lthgpe
stagings falls, the cord making a
stronger combination than nails,
is an idea that might be copied in the
States, Milk 18 milked directly from
the cow, at the big city dairies, into
the cook’s pitcher, thus making sure
that even if the cow bas Leen watered
the milk has not.
A ——
Burglars and Chlorofurm.
We often see it announced that burg-
| lars entered a house and after chloro
{ forming the inmates carried off money,
| jewelry, clothing, ete., and the state-
ment is generally accepted without
question.
such a thing is practically impossible,
and that jt is about on a par with *“‘tak-
ing tie eye out on the cheek, scraping
many intelligent persons will postively
assert was done to their knowledge.
We have had frequent occasion to
administer chloroform to children pre-
puratory to performing operations, and
have attempted to have them begin the
inhalation of it while in a sound sleep.
| The first smell of it has almost in.
| stantly aroused the sleeping child, and
it is impossible to produce any effect.
The same is equally true with adults
the first smell is irritating to the air
passages and causes a strong feeling of
aversion that is sufficient to awaken a
person from the soundest sleep. The
density of the vapor, the strong, pune
gent odor, and the irritation caused by
breathing chloroform at first, combine
to make it impossible for a person to
pass from a natural sleep into a stale of
| anmsthesia, Again, a person undergo.
ing anmsthesia is certain in most cases
to become excited, to straggle violently,
talk loudly, and thus defeat the object
miting ensue,
Do these symptoms tally with the
stories of whole families being chloro-
formed and awaking as from a natural
sleep, astonished to find the evidences
of burglars’ work on ali sides?
When an empty chloroform bottle is
found and the room is filled with fumes
of chloroform after some crime has
been committed, it at least suggests the
possibility of coliusion, that demands a
closer examination than is usually given
to such cases, The testimony of phy-
sicians who have had any experience in
the administration of anmsthetics will
be found In opposition to this popular
belief as to their use as alds in the per-
petration of crime, and it 18 time that
the question was settled by a careful
scientific investigation.
a a" ID 5 I.
Returning Letters Was All Nonsense,
A Somerset business man not long
since had an occasion to write to a gen-
tleman who evidently had few corres.
ts. Theen had the usual
‘Return in ten days £G ——, Somerset,
J? eu ic In about ten days the
INI MN M5
—P. Wallace, who formerly shod
A COUNTS REVENGE.
A Fifteenth Century Legend Gath.
ered from a Nook ia the Alps.
Count Montmayeur generally dwelt
in Savoy, where he owned large estates,
Part of these lands were claimed by a
kinsman, and after much fierce dispute
the matter was laid before the senate of
Chambery. When notice of this sult
reached Montmayeur at his castle of
Clairvaux, a few miles from the city,
he instantly rode down to the senate
house with a big bag, full of titie-deeds
at his saddle-bow, and, whether by
logic or threats, pleaded his cause so
well that the president of the tribunal,
one Sieur de Vessiguey, staked his life
on the count's success. The verdict,
nevertheless, was given against him,
and Montmayeur, with a mighty oath,
swore to be revenged. But time went
on and there was no sign of either beak
or claws being called into play,
Then one morning Fessigny was sur-
prised by a visit from the defeated
count, and still more surprised by his
courteous and smiling demeanor.
Montmayeur was weary, it seemed, of
family strife, and, having already made
peace with his victorious kinsinan, had
bidden him, with other friends and re-
lations, to a grand banquet. Might he
not hope to be also favored with the
President’s company.
De Fessigny hemmed and hawed, but
finally accepted the invitation, and on
the appoint>d day rode up to the gales
of Clairvaux. He had passed no one
on the road, the castle looked grim and
| deserted, there were no signs of festivity
to be seen, and for a moment he fel
strongly inclined to turn tail and gal
lop back down the steep descent, But
the chieftan, ail smiles and affability,
stood waiting to welcome him under
the archway with thanks for his kind
punctuality. The other guests had not
yet appeared ; the host became fidgety,
astonished, annoyed, und presently or.
dered the repast to be served without
them. The president's suspicions were
| quite allayed by this time, The dishes
| were exquisite, the wines of the choicest
| growths, He drank deep, so did the
count: their tongues loosened, jest fol-
lowed jest, and the host was most ex-
{cellent company. Their merriment
| was at its height, when suddenly Mont.
| mayeur’s manner changed, and he said,
in a solemn tone:
“Sieur de Fessigny, are you a good
G18
{| Christian
{ The president laughed, and raising
| his glass answered, lightly:
“You are very kind, my dear count;
| what concern may you have in the state
{ of my soul?”
| “Parn round and you
thundered Montmayeur,
De Fessigny turned and sprang to his
feet. The arras behind him had been
| drawn aside, [Te saw a funeral bier at
| the end ot the hall, and a dozen monks
| ranged round it began chanting a litany
| for the dead. A masked figure, dressed
‘in red, stood, ax in hand, beside a
i block.
| De Fessigny’s eyes opened, his glass
| dropped and the blood red wine man
will see’!
| stones by the block,
| “Through you I lost lands and gold,”
| cried the count. *“*Your head is for
feit, Quickly “wake peace with
| Heaven, for you have to die.”
“This is a sorry jest, my lord count,”
{ he stamumnered with trembling lips.
| "is no jest. Make thy peace with
| Goa,
Then the betrayed man fell upon his
| knees, appealing to the laws of bospit-
| ality, asking mercy for wife und child’s
sake. But in vain! At a sign from the
| chief two of the feigned monks dragged
| the victim to the block and in an in-
| stant the executioner’s work was done,
{| Early the next morning the count
| mounted his horse and--again with a
| leathern bag at his saddle bow-—rode
i down to the senate,
“Here is a fresh document connected
| with ny case,” be said, laying his bag
{on the table, and hastily saluting the
| assembly, at once guitted the hall and
|rode away. The senators sat wailing
| for their president, grumbling some-
what at his delay, when presently red
| drops were seen oozing from the leathern
| bag. It was opened and they found the
{ head of De Fessiguy.
iio ———
An Imaginary Buffalo Girl,
A young lady on Franklin street,
Buffalo, has been thinking seriously
lately of taking a course of study at
Cornell or the Harvard *‘Anpex.”
| When asked recently if she had made
| all her preparations yet, she said: **Ob,
| dear, yes, all but one, and I really fear
1 must abandon the idea of going atall.”
“Why, why?"
“I can’t find any one for a chape-
rone.”?
“Chaperone!
“Why, goodness, yes, Do you think
I'd go to a horrid college ful! of awful
wen without a chaperone? Not for all
the world,”
“Why, my goodness me, you don’t
suppose other girls at college have chape-
rones, do you?"
»1 certainly should hope so.”
“Well most girls that make up their
minds to go to college are independent
enough to do without chaperones,”
“Rut don't you think it would be vul-
gar? Just imagine, a young man might
wink at me, 1 must certainly abandon
the idea utterly.’’
And she has. But it would be in-
tensely amusing to see the girls at Cor-
nell and Harvard trotting about tied to
the apron strings of a chaperone,
The Young Girl's Freedom.
Very likely the right and proper
course would lie in a wise medium be-
tween the American freedom and She
girls
FASHION NOTES,
— Precious stones will edge low cors-
ages for full dress during the winter,
—Dlamonds are not worn on the
street any more by women of refine-
ment.
~JIn France standing collars, with
turneddown points, are worn only in
full dress,
~Crushed roses and loops of tulle
make the popular trimming for Leg-
horn hats.
~— Very wide sashes of black brocade
are all the rage, and are worn with all
sorts of costumes,
-The colored pearls-—rose, gray and
black, the latter for mourning-—are
very much the fashion,
—Coarse bralds are more stylish than
any of finer weave for dressy hats,
either In black or in colors,
— Bracelets are never worn in pairs,
In fact, it is the fashion only to man-
acle the right arm at present,
—The diminutive mantelets now so
popular are elaborately trimmed with
beaded ornaments, jetted fringe and
lace,
—Tennis blouses of checked, striped
or plaited surah are fashionably worn;
they can be utilized with various
skirts,
~—A very beautiful dress is one of
hellotrope cloth mixed with heliotrope
satin, on which is a rich Louis Quinze
pattern in embossed velvet, the color-
ing being a much darker bellotrope
| and a deep moss green. All the bodice
| is of this gorgeous waterial, except the
| front, where the smart little jacket
| shape turns back to show its lining of
| plain heliotrops velvet and a compli
cated under bodice. There 18 a vest of
the embossed material, over which
folds of tus heliotrope cloth cross from
{right to left, edged with double van.
j dykes, the [rst being of the cloth itself
| pinked out and thrown up by similar
| vandykes under them of the plain Leli-
| otrope velvet. The neck is finished by
| & high collar of the plain velvet, at the
| wrists there is no cuff, but a finishing
| of the doubie vandykes. The skirt has
ia panel of the embossed wvelvel on
{ satin, over which the heliotrope cloth
| opens, falling in double folds from the
waist on each sides of the panel. The
| back of the skirt 18 of the cloth, all
| bung in draperies, which are edged
| with the vandyking, and the bottom Is
| finished all round with the double van-
| dykes in place of frou-frou.
A
— Another very effective dress is dis-
| tinctly directoire; it is a short thealre
| gown, of vieux rose and crimson silk
| mixed. There 18a panel in the front
| of the skirt, which is all a passemen-
[terie of vieux rose beads worked on
{ vieux rose silk. Over this the crimson
{ silk opens, redingote fashion, and is
| taken fn large pleats all round the
right side of the skirt, and put in very
| full behind, hanging in straight folds
| from the waist, At the left side Lhe
| crimson silk opens over a pleated petti-
coat of vieux rose crape, witt tucks in
ft, over which falls a large sash of
| yienx rose silk, not ribbon, but cut
| from plece silk.
| directoire waist sash of the same silk,
{ 80 that the pale color 1s carried right
lup, A very smart little directoire
| bodice completes the dress; it has
puffed shoulder-sieeves of the crimson
| silk, and elbow-sieeves of the crape
| folded, and edged simply with a row
| of vieux rose pearls,
| of visux rose silk, finished at the neok
| with passementerie, The neck 1s cul
| quite low, and is trimmed or bordered
| way, with hanging threads of the
| passementerie falling from the plain
| edge of the crimson silk. There are
| charming hitle epauleties, or rather
| shoulder-collars, made of the passe.
| menterie worked on the vieux rose silk;
| they stand up most prettily, like little
| wings.
| —An exceedingly slender woman can
| wear what may be called fat clothes,
| A neglige for her room can be effec.
| tively made, for instance, of cream
| white woolen canvas, with rows of silk
{ribbon rum Into ‘‘pulled” places
| wherever any trimming can be used.
| Now that it ls cold she can have a
| wrapper of surah silk and white nun's
| velllog. The lining is of thin delaine,
| the outer surface of bine surah, and
between the twd there is a layer of cot-
ton wadding basted securely to the lin-
ing all over. Then up and down the
front snd about the loose sleeves and
collar it is tacked through and through
at intervals of three inches, just as a
comfortable is made, A coarse needle
threaded with stout linen is passed
through the whole thing, and a bunch
of the fine, pearl-edged satin ribbon,
for running nto lace, is tied securely
in tufting to the front in rows and go-
ing around the neck and sleeves sev-
eral times. It is an exquisite thing, so
soft and so sweet, for an ounce or so of
violet sachet powder scattered upon
the cotton perfumes the robe like a
Spring morning. Of course none but
the Sarah Rernbardts of women can
indulge mn such wadded gowns,
unfortunate of avoirdupols
can not have tufted dresses unless they
wished to look stuffed. But there are
plenty of slim women whe can be per
fect loves of comfort and beauty in
this charming kind of gown.
A Topical Song for Mephistopheles,
HORSE NOTES.
~Robert Boaper has Maud B, in
New York now and 1s driving her
double with Pickard,
~Patsy Clinker and running mate
went a mile in 2,14}, last half in 1.04,
at New Orleans recently.
—W. 8, Titon, Vice President of
the National Trotling Association, is
quite iil at his home, near Boston.
~38, 8, Howland, of New York, has
urchased in England the bay horse
Lammermoor, bred at the Cobham
Stud in 1874, by Scottish Chief, dam
Armada by Buccaneer.
“Lucky” Baldwin's Santa Anita sta
ble won $112,627 last season, Emperor
of Norfolk heading the list with §37.-
140; Los Angeles second, with $22,435,
and Volante third, with $20,187.
—Crit Davis writes that he had Me-
Leod and Johnson the (king of pacers)
weighed after thelr arrival in Harrods-
burg, Ky. The former's weight was
10056 pounds and the latter's 930
pounds,
—Three yearling colts owned by 5.
8. Brown, of Pittsburg, died recently
at Lexington, Cy. They were: Bay
colt by Glenelg, dam Mayfield; bay colt
by Gieneig, dam Marmat, and bay colt
by Glenelg, dam Petiola,
—John Munbingdom, of the Btand-
ard Oil Company, on the 15th bought
of Pat. Shank, of Litchfeld, Ohio, the
bay filly Florence, two years, by Hot
Spur Joe, dam Gadiola, by Harold, for
$1000. Florence is looked upon as one
of the most promising fillies in the
country. Pat Saank is the man who
trained Oliver K.
~The stallion Domestic lost the
hoof off both forefeet through an ai-
tack of influenza that led wo inflamma
tion of the quick, The lamina was left
bare, and for a time the life of the
norse was despaired of, but he is now
abie fo stand, and 1t is hoped that In a
year he will be in condition to return
to the turf,
~The Buffalo Trotting Association
| should have given a special purse for
horses to trot against the time of Mr.
Hamilin’s horses (Belle Hamlin, and
Belle Hamlin and Jastizna), and not
have turned the free-for-sil and the
| double team purses in for the Hamlm
| family’s especial benefit,
{| ~The first meeting of the Board of
| Appeals of the American Trotting As-
| sociation opened at the Sherman
House, Chicago, Ill., on the 6th and
| closed on the Tih, Mr. Charles Green
| President of the St. Lous Falr Asso-
| ciation, presided. The members of the
| Board of Review present were: RB. W.
| Gillet, W, P. ljams and C. MM. Cot-
| trill. Al of the ringers that have been
| pirating on the Western Trottmg As
| sociations for years were brought up
{ and expelled, The Board also recog-
| nized the ruling of the National Trot~
| ting Association by expelling George
| Tufts. for alleged pulling of Lorelia
| ¥., trom all tracks under its jurisdic-
| Gon.
| Senator Palmer, of Michigan, has
| sept an accredited agent to Europe to
| purchase a number of choice Perche-
{ron stallions amd mmres, Them his
agent, advised by Mr. Charles Du
Hayes, head of the Bureau of Hippo-
| pages of Fracoe, will proceed to Arabia
| apd secure five of the best Arabian
stallions that can be bought. Brought
to this country the Arabs and Perche-
rons will be bred together, and the pro-
dace bred again. By long and intelli-
gent ili-breeding Senator Palmer hopes
to create a new type of horse, or, fail-
ing in that, to improve the old type by
crossing the Arab horse upou the Per-
cheron mare and vile versa.
~The recent sa'e of the racing sind
belcuging to the Dowager Duchess ol
Montross, who runs her horses in the
name of “Mr. Manton,” attracted a
large number of visitors to the Park
paddocks at Newmarket, but the bid-
ding was exceptionally slow. Fourlaen
horses were put up, Of the 4 year olds
Devil to Pay; which cost the Dackess
£5000 two years ago, was kpocked
down to Cannon, the jockey, for £125.
Oberon, by Galopin eut of Wheel of
Fortune, which cost the Duchess £3500
in 1884, was sold for £1700. The best
animal in the sale was Timothy, which
ran third for St. Leger. He was run up
to £5000, and knocked down at that
price to Captain Machel.
—Five horses were burned in Bow-
erman Bros, stables, located on the
Fair grounds, Lexinglon, Ky., on the
Sth as follows: Clement M., § years
old, by Red Wilkes, dam by Mambrino
Patchen, owned by Bowerman Bros.,
and recently purchased for $5000; For-
est Sprague, 6 years old. by Governor
, dam by Edwin Forest, owned
New York, and val
George Wilkes,
and valued at
388.
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