a - The Washerwoman's Song. Fring out the old, wring out the new, Wring out the black, wring out the gray Wring out the white, wring out the blue— And thus I wring my life away. An occupation strange is mine; At least it seems to people droll, That while I'm working at the line I'm goleg, too, from pole to pole. Where'er I go I strive to please: From morn to night I rub and rub; 1'm something like Diogenes— I almont live within a tub, To acrobats who vault and spring In civeases I take shine; They make their living in the ring, Aud by the wringer I make mine, My calling’s humble, 1'll agree, But I am no cheap calico, Ax some folks are who sneer at me; i'n something that will wash, know, you I smile in calm, 1 strive in storm, With life's diflicnities I cope; My duties cheerfully perform, My motto: While there's BOA. life there's Wring out the old, wring out the new, Wiring out the black, wring out the gray, Wring out the white, wring out the blue And thus I wring my life away. LAUNCE. [bo last ray from the seiting sun fell on a breken shaft across lake Lucerne, tounohsng with a rich hue the handsome face of Launce, the boat-house keeper, as he sat on the edge of the long plat- ens eon gether, The lights were out in the drawing- room of the great house, and Gretchen had gone to lier own apartments, The gibbous moon hung high above the mountain top, and shone like quivering silveron thelake, Wild, sweet zephyrs, that seemed to come from some strange | sphere, swept through the vines that Liung at her window, And now, while she stands there, what sound 1s that, swelling and dying on the night winds? Ah, those strains! Now filled with love, again with pas- slonate despalr, they float and quiver in the moonlight, then, wafted through the casement, envelop Gretchen in a sublime cadence, The swaying vines touch her soft cheek where a teardrop rests. She knew not whence it came, nor why, She kept thinking of Launce, who day forgive him, Could she ever do so? Poor, lonely Launce; with no friends, no companionship Ah!—was he not already forgiven? The strains had died away, and Gretchen was losing herself in a wild, improbable fancy, in which she was would some like Launce’s, in whose passionate depths was reflected her own soul. She was aroused from this waking dream by seeing the figure of a man cautiously approaching from the direc- tion of the boat-house, Could it be Launce? and what could he want at form, with lus fishing-line dropped in the water, I The sad dook in his smouldering dark | eves did not bespeak much enjoyment of | his occupation. As he jerked his line from the water, landing a shining beau- $y beside him, a shadow fell along the platform, and a girl's light step came after it, “What success, Launce? Have you enough yet? You must bring them at once, for the supper must not be delay- ad." said a sweet but imperative voice, “Would the consequence be so terri- »ie if the Count Von Bruner should not get his supper as soon as he should want it?’ asked the dark-faced Launce, with smiling sarcasm, as he arose and took up the basket of fish, ‘I cannot say; only aunt Wilmine is | wixrons that everything should be ready | when the carriage arrives.’ she replied impatiently, ‘‘Give me the basket; 1 will take them myself.” “Wel, here they are, my lady; and | it hopeful I am that the Count will | aot get a hishbone in his throat,” said | vaunes,” with a half cynical Jaugh, as he held the basket toward her. When | she reached to take it he caught her | small band in and pressed a Kiss | npon it. I'he girl's face grew suger. She snatched her hand away, uttering with vehemence: “Hew dare you, presumptuous fel- low? i “Your words are true, Gretchen, It « presumptuous for me to love you; | get 1 cannot help doing so. 1 will not | weain offend you.” i He put the basket down at her feet and looked regretfully at the beautiful | face, transformed with anger and | wounded pride, ““1f TI tell Aunt Wilmine of this she will send you away immediately, She | A calling me now, and has no doubt | witnessed your bold act, How can | ever forgive you?” she said with in- “reasing anger. ‘You will forgive me sometime, iretehen. Tell your aunt I am going away to save her the trouble of sending | me. Putch Jans can take my place. | He can fill it better than 1.7 He watched ber with his dark sad aves, as she went silently away, her | step less light than when she had come | a mament before; then he went into his | ‘ittle veo, which was a part of the | boathouse, and prepared his simple meal as was his custom, An hour later, seated at his small window, he watched Gretchen and the wealthy Count Von Druner strolling through parierres of flowers, With a feeling akin to jealousy, he saw the Count pluck the rarest rose to place in wr goiden hair, as if he were already | naster of “land and lady,’”” which he yd fondly hoped to be, if the fair lady would accept the suit he came to plead | vith her ambitious aunt, .aunce sat looking at the great man- sion long atter Gretchen and the Count oud gone in, The lights from the arch- | *} windows shone through the lace cur- tains, and Gretchen's pure, rich voice Yoated across the distance in that pas sionate song: ‘Thou art so near and yet so far." Gretchen's song ceased, Suddenly, iaunce aroused himself, He went in- to a small inner room, and took from a peg on the wall an old leathern bag, then -— having lighted a candle — sat down to examine its contents. There was but little to look at, an old wbrn violin, that had been his father’s, and a large wallet filled with old letters written in Italian, Launce looked eagerly among them until! he came to one not quite so yellow aa the others, Five years had passed since he placed tins letter in the old wallet, The remembrance of it had | faded year by year, until it seemed like + vague dream, something within his heart to-night ful recalled more vividly the memory of the time when his father lay dying, and had given him this letter, telling him when he should be all alone in the world to do as the letter directed him, Launce was too young at that time 0 do more than earn a scant livelihood; put he was now seventeen, and he re- proached hituself that the command of his dying father—that might be the weans of restoring him to his family and title, which his father had lost through xi ution ~ ud so long been di He studied the letter closely for a long time; then he replaced the papers and put his fow articles of apparel and what money he had into the old bag. Having extinguished the light, he too the violin and sat down once more at the litthe window, Months had elapsed since its strings had nded to the touch of his fing- ors. ith the quickness of an expert be tuned the chords to harmony, then lost himself in a sad, weird improvisa- tion, as he had often heard his father a w» | IE 1133, crimson with | this hour? She forgot all her sympathy she felt angry as she realized that he was coming directly under her window. She feared to ask why he was there lest somebody should hear her. She drew back in the shadow of the room, fry again! ear, came but her lips made no sound, faded ont in the weird moonlight. Aunt Wilmine was very angry the next morning at Launce’s failure to bring the usual basket of fish for break- fast, and forthwith installed Dutch Jans in his place; but she was more seeing her niece a countess. Her grand scheme had been successful; was within her grasp. have the enchanting than her could bear with fortitude, ed and threatensd, to no purpose, Gretchen wad firm in her decisic “Many t dream dispelled ambitious heart She storm- M1, Count Aunt am sure you ¥ xT 1 if he vourseil, nw] she said, i I do not wish to be mar- rie,” “I shall send you back to the con- reason and give a favorable answer the Count,” declared ber irate aunt, This decision of Aunt Wilmine's seemed to allay the anger and mortifl cation of the Count, who went away with the understanding that he should sentiments toward him. The prospect of returning to the con- read eful looked forward to the event with greater calmness than to the thought of becoming the bride of Count Von Bruner. The decrve of banishment being un. to Saint Ursula’s, there to remain a prisoner un- til her acquiescence in her aunt's plans should set her free, When, a week later, she wrote that she had entered on a course of music that would require live vears to com- plete, Aunt Wilmine acknowledged - * * . Tne summer guests at Wiesbaden tion over the announcement that the There had been a number of new ar- rivals at the spacious Hotel de V Europe, and the younger ladies were on longed to one of the first families of ftaly, and had inherited immense at the grand table d'hote, matron at the further end is no less a side her the fair Gretchen, somewhat that far ex- They have was released from the convent, Count Von Bruner, seated on Aunt Wilmine's right, with his heart, baden. has joined them at Wies- The Count, growing impatient at her non-appearance, sent to request an in- terview, Not finding her in her room, Aunt Wilmine learned from the ser- vants that she had gone for a walk. Thipking it a propitious time to fol. low hér to some romantic spot and urge her acceptance of his love, the Count took his hat and hastened to find her, Down by the old boat-house Gretchen { had gone, where she lingered a while, thinking of Launce and his last low words spoken under her window: “Farewell, Carissima, until we meet again.’”” All that would never bel She gave a faint sigh as she left the place, and was soon climbing up the mountain in search of her favorite wild flower—the mountain pink, Presently she espied a bunch, but un- fortunately they were in a spot almost inaccessible—on a steep slope directly over the lake, where a fulse step would precipitate her into its deep waters, Her desire to have them, overcame her fears at last, and creeping cautiously along, holding by strong vines and bushes, she secured her prize, As she turned to go back a portion of the projection that had served as a foot- hold, broke loose and fell into the lake, leaving her no hope of regaining her safety, Just at that moment she saw love and title at ber feet, Calling her frail support with reviving hope, The Count, who seemed born for love- en, with fast failing strength, hanging in extreme peril. “Courage! brave girl; I will save you. Hold firmly to the bushes, and do not look down,” said a clear, rich voice, with Italian accent, In a moment the owner of the voice had the boat from the boat house, and with swift strokes i spot where Gretelien hung. “Now jump into the fear, It is youronly way of escape.” tiretchen obeyed the voice that com- water, The next moment she came to She was uncon- was excusable if by her brave rescuer, { scious, and Launce { loved, The Count having by turned with Dutch Jans, took situation at once, and feeling that he would be out of place in the presence of the man who had saved Gretchen from a death to whi her, he has’ened to the house, took his portinantean, and, without a word, to anyone, left the place. When Gretchen recovered conscious ness and looked upon her preserver, she i said: “You are Count the great jiolinist whom I met at Wiesbaden?" am,” he replied, **but 1 have an- other title by which you may betler re- member me Cellini, § fense I gave you six years ago.” “Oh, Launce! ness the night you went away." “Now I want something more, Gret. | chen—1 want your love,’’ “I think I gave you that with the forgiveness, Launce,’’ —— i ———— A House Full of Clocks “I have a funny old uncle down in New Hampshire—a crank on clocks," sail Mr. Fred Richardson, the artist, “1 spent a night in his house not long ago, and Idon’t intend to spend another there soon, I am a light sleeper, and when I am awakened I have a hard time to get back to sleep. Well, at 12 o'clock that night I was awakened by the loud, lazy stroke of an old-fashion- | ed, tall clock in the hall. It struck 12 times, and I thought it would never | quit and let me go to sleep. 1 had just whanging knocker, pelted off 12 more. i In a few minutes the soothing chime of la pretty French clock crept through my bedroom floor from the par- lor. | drove all sleep from my eyes, desperation 1 lay and counted clock | after clock, until 15 of them had each sion of noises, the big father clock of all the one in the hall—struck 1, and the | rest followed its example, “In the morning 1 discovered that the 15 clocks were set just five minutes apart. “What do you keep your clocks all | set differently for?’ 1 asked, up at night I like to know what time it 118. Now, as I have my clocks arrang- { ed, one of them strikes every five min- { utes, so I don’t have to wait long to find out whether it is time to get up.’ “He knew the voice of every clock in | the house, and knew just what time it | was whenever any one of them struck.” to Gretchen, and who was unmistak- and furtive glances, His gaze was re- peatedly fixed upon Gretchen, who seemed entirely oblivious of his pres. ence, their eyes met, At the concert that night their eyes met again; for he was in reality the great violinist. When he played the music seemed to recall those sad strains she had heard the night Launce went away. Before her mental vision arose the moonlit road, and on it one lone form that faded like a phantom. The next day Gretchen and Aunt Wilmine returned to thelr suburban home from which they had been absent so long. Count Von Bruner accompan- ied them to again urge his suit. “Gretchen has no lovers, and cares for no one else,” Aunt Wilmine argued with herself, “and, now that she is older and wiser, must see the propriety of choosing a husband, Where should she find one save in the Count, who has been so faithful and long waiting?” They arrived at home in the after noon. Being fatigued, Gretchen kept her room until the next day, T eager for a sight of her old haunts a clamber up the mountain eft the house unknown to her aun she i A Woman's Noble Work, A young girl staggered down Eighth avenue, N. Y., recently, at balf-past 8 She was pretty and not more She had been o'clock. {than 17 years of age, drinking. A policeman stopped her and it look- ed as though she would be arrested, Just then an elderly, benevolent look- ing lady, elegantly dressed, stepped up and said she would care for the girl. Then she hailed a passing hack and en- tering it, with the girl, was soon out of sight, “That girl is all right now,” said a b to a Telegram reporter, ‘‘for she is in the hands of a woman who will save her from the ruin now staring her in the face, The lady Is wealthy, and if ever a good woman lived she is one. She giv largely to charity and is in- in the work of reclaiming un- fortunate girls, She has taken that girl to some house where she will be tenderly cared for.” of T, led at N. Y. lockjaw. Goshen, N. of Telegraph sired An , and Gir} wad sid By. iarsy Arlington & BUNNERS FOR STEAMSHIPS, Collarving Peopls for a Small Com- mission. How Passengers Aro Piloked, Back and forth before the offices of the big transatlantic steamship lines fronting on Bowling green and in that vicinity may, on almost any day, be ob- served certain men pacing the pave- ments with a hungry look in thelr eyes, eagerly scanning the face of every per- son who approaches, If that person happens to inspire in the minds of these watchers, from the fact of his looking at the office signs, from his appearance pronouncing him to be a stranger, or from any other outward indication, any remote hint that he might be desirous of purchasing a passage across the ocean, he is at once approached with offers to assist him in his search. The name of the port to which he wants to go being elicited, the “runners” will at once compete with each other for the honor of introducing him to the agent cheapest passage.” The man is at once dragged off, perplexed, but some- what tempted by the offer of a cheaper fare than that which he had been led to | expect, the **runner’ who has him In charge can obtain the largest commission upon { the purchase of his ticket, “There isn’t half this business now that there was a few | years ago,” said a veteran runner re- cently, “We used to get $8 commis- sion on each ticket across, Now the rates are down to almost nothing, and Then 4 man, $3 to $0. | get around of course the one | reduction off his ticket gets him, but | that reduction, of course, Las to come out of our commission.’ “Do you depend entirely upon chance in the passengers you catch?’’ “*Not altogether, ns who { have made a business of the thing have i agents of our own in other cities and out west, who advise us i is coming to New York to go across, Then we make it { passengers and arrange with them to buy their tickets,’ “How do you tell i man whether he may mer?’’ “It’s easy enough,” Some of by the lock of a prove a custo- said the veteran, tell whether he is German, Swedish or Irish. ILS easy _ Some you are all right, tough to back | gpoken to a man entirely on struck a first passenger, course, the higher grade passenger you the more commission thers is off his ticket for you.” { A former runner, who is now engag- ed in other business, was asked if steamship companies gave special com missions to favored men. “Oh, no,” sald he, “any steamship | company will give you a commission if you take them a passenger, it makes { hardly any difference who you are, 1 | sometimes earn a few dollars that way | yet, and frequently oblige a friend by | obtaining a ticket for him at the dis- | count of my commission. i mer when I made a trip across myself, if not, er- t I've ous, mes 1 4 Cadns | get Res, { and saved $3 on it.” Another ex-runner said that there were very few men who made a perina- nent business of picking up passengers i now. Lake himself, a good many were on the lookout for commissions when | travel was brisk, as in the summer sea- ¢ Ww to do. But the comuissions were small now, the competition was keen, and | those who had made a business of it had | mostly succeeded in establishing little | offices of their own. ' . — | Fun With the Students. The stucents and Arbor are still discussing the somewhat startling situations that grew out of the annual ball of Company A. The students welcome the ball as one in which they can overstep the bounds set by exact society and enjoy themselves under cover of a mask, Nearly one hundred of the university | boys were terribly sold when the masks | fair damsels to whom they had paid | such devoted attention during the even- | have not been saying much about the | matter, | The young ladies, however, take all { the pains possible to tell of the atten- | tions which the young society bloods | paid them before the whole university | world, It is not certain that any *Co- Eds’ were at the ball, but rumor has it that two fair lady medics were pres- ent and excited much curiosity by their beautiful and chic costumes, One ap- peared in a handsome suit of black vel- yet tights, the other in black bloomers. lacks confirmation, as they left the ball before unmasking. How Inexperienced Hunters Are Lost. Inexperienced hunters should never, when it can be avoided, go out alone into a wooded section they are not fa- miliar with, as in case of fogs or snow storms they are quite likely to become lost or bewildered, I have known sev eral such cases where men, losing their bearings, have wandered about for days in a state of confusion and uncertainty, upon the verge of lunacy. They do not reason upon their situation, but in- variably exhaust themselves by running ahead at thelr utmost speed without the least regard to directions, and often follow their own tracks around in a eir- cle, with the idea that they are in a beaten trail, During one of my earliest expeditions over the ns, a tlernan with the party became lost while hunt ing, and was absent for about ten days ore he rejoined us; and during all this time he was wandering about be- tween the Canadian River and the plain wagon road we had made, which at no Jit wits over two miles apart. Yet did not remember seeing either the road or river at any time during his long absence, we oR FE sano FASHION NOTES, — Braiding on tailor suits will be more frequent and more elaborate next season, ~The arrangement of the tulle drap- eries on ball corsiges are very varied and eccentric. — Very pretty new jackets are made up of the new imitation braided dol- man cloth, ~The skirts of dresses for the spring are scareoly draped at all—only a rip. ple Lere and there. —Dolman cloth 1s the newest fabric for wraps; iL 1s covered with a patlern in relief that simulates braid, : -Visites are still popular, and by the fresh materials and various pretly details used are made almost to appear as novelties, i ~The Indoor dress of black lace is | correct wear for young matrons and | elderly women, but is loo sombre for | young girls, | =—Laces and passementeries are used {to trim costumes of plain velvet, and | sometimes striped velvels are used in | combination, ~-Metallic threads, braids and tinsel spangles are worn on ali sorts of in- | door dresses, ball gowns and dressy i visiting toilets, —3reen cashmere frocks are in favor | for girls of twelve to fifteen, and these | are frequently piped and trimmed with pale blue slik, ! Clusters of six heavily crusted | gold balls, set with turquoises where the balls connect, are for the chatelalne, girl’s heart that fashion decrees they should be of a size too big. -— Best dressed women now almost { wholly discard the bustle, and [they not only look much betier, but are probably far more comfortable, - Necklaces of colored stones, as the sapphire alternating with the ruby or lately driven out the diamond in Paris, | -—Deauty spots of court plaster, or painted on the face in India ink, are observed more frequently now, and this 18 another fashionable revival, velvet and black ostrich tips goes up ou one side like a hat and is well de- scribed as *‘rakish.”’ —Demi-trained dresses of the new terpoon tea and indoer dresses where aa elaborate toilet is not demanded, -Lueifer réd piush bands and acces. sories make a gown of opaline gray silk very dressy and brightened with tinsel, it becomes bril- ! hantly effective, — English brides stead, Como do about it? ~The reticule or small bund bag is coming in vogue. It is made of scraps satin, and made decorative with silk and tinssl embroidery. over some bright color, with two bows brighten sombre-colored dresses for evening wear, —Some sleeves of house dresses and tea gowns are made full above the el- bow and tight below. Others are made in full Bishop form, with a tight | slashed cap covering the upper portion of the arm, — Passementries and galloon are ex- tensively used on bodices, being ar- ranged lengthwise and tapering nar- i rowly at the waist. This trimming is particularly appropriate for short wo- men inclined to stoutness, green, mahogany red, Gobelin blue, ashes of ross, and other quaint colors are preferred by some girls for their | tulle gowns, and quaint flowers, or- | chids, mugnonette, hops, chrysan- themums, and other flowers ja colors ! that match the dress are used for trim- mings, in fashionable pariance, all rosy tinted fabnes, ribbons, Sowers, menu cards, dancing cards, bisque and porcelain figures, fancy glass objects, and even { the ices and cakes at luncheons, din. i ners and suppers partaking of the | couleur de rose in one or another shade | of Aurora's sun-dysd mantle, ———————— ID PAS A White Hobin. We have all heard of that rare bird, | a white crow, 1 have long desired to see some bird whose plumage varied in like manver from the color of its com- peers, My wish was gratified one Sep- tember day when a bird that, at first glimpse, I had thought a stranger, turn- ed out to be a robin masquerading in a white coat. A few days later, in the midst of a large flock of robins which were feeding upon the lawn, I saw the same bird (as 1 assume, since the mark- ing was so unusual. ) Its back appear- ed to be pure white; wings and tail white, bordered with olive gray. This light coat set off the dark cap and red waistcoat to great advantage. Birds are sald to peck at and drive off any of their own species which show striking variations of color from the es- tablished type. But, as far as could be seen, this robin was in good favor among its fellows, When (all too soon for my curiosity) the whole company took alarm at the scream of a jay, the white bird flew off surrou by the others, The following spring, strangely robin in mottled 5 SAE. HORSE NOTES. —- ~The Sire Bros, have made an offer for Arab, 2 16}. John Murphy has began jogeing Maud 8, record 2.08% ~ Freeland is at Memphis, He has been broken to harness. —Thirteen horses have been declared out of the Suburban handicap. : —The stallian Lumps, 2.21, bas been shipped to lus new homes in Maine, ~Mr. Rodgers of San Francisco, has purchased several horses in Australia, Ban Box will be stabled al the Boulevard, Coney Island, and trained there. ~Barnum. by Donnie Scotland, has run 210 races in his six years on the turf, ~The Dwyer Bros, will probably sell Pontize to Milton Young for stock purposes, wd, I. Case bas placed the manage. ment of Hickory Grove Farm largely in the hands of his son, J. IL Case, Jr. ~All horses that have run at ths Guttenburg and Chiton half-mile tracks will be allowed to race at Cedar- hurst, ~The stallion Enfield, by Hamblete- pian, dam Julia Machres by BSeely’s American Star, is dead, Ile was foaled in 1868, —A full brother to Emperor of Nor- | folk was foaled at Theodore Winters’ Rancho del Rio Stud in Callfornia, on January 19. —James B. McCarty, who owned Flora Belle, 2 13%, and Zos B. 2.17%, | when they were on the turf, died of pneumonia at Vincennes, Ind., on February 24. —F, B. Muir, of Chilesburg, Ky., 18 reported to have bought his partner's interests in Count Wilkes, by George | Wilkes, dam Jewell by Gill’s Vermont, for $3500. — A special stake will be run at dt. | Louis on June 5 in honor of the Demo- | cratic National Convention, to be called the Cleveland? stakes, for all | ages, with $2000 added. —Naid Queen, record 2.20f, by Gooding’s Champion, was the highest | priced animal sold at the recent Ken- | tucky horse sales, She was bil in by |G. White, of Paris, Ky., for $5050. —J. H. Waish, who for more than thirty years was chief editor of the | London Field, and who became widely known by Lis nom de plume, *‘Stone- heage,” died ou February 12, aged 77 i years, —FE. A. Bordman, of Grand Rapids, Mich., has purchased of O. I’. Oiford, | of Lexington, (Ky.) Stock Farm, ch. c, Tom Pugh, by Red Wilkes, dam Lottie Temple by Mambrino Temple, for $3500. ~The 1888 meeting of the Nalional | Association of Trotting Horse Dreeders will be held at Detroit, Mich., the first | week in September in connection with the meeting of the Michigau Dreeders’ Association. —John Bunch, the colored jockey who shot and killed James Kiley, a | Texas jockey, at Hollywood Driving Park three years ago, died at the Dixmont Insane Asylum. Pittsburg, on February 23, of consumption. | Colonel 8. D, Bruce has condl- | tionally purchased the stallion Torpedo, | by Hermit, from Matthew Dawson, of | Exeter House, Newmarket, for Messra, | Clay & Woodford, of the Runnymede | Stud. Bourbon eounty, Ky. —The latest English exchanges state | that Friar's Balsam, the Derby favor. | ite, is under suspicion. it 18s commonly ! hinted around Newmarket that the | colt “makes a nowe,” or, in other | words, has turned “roarer.” — Before leaving for California on the | 18th Ed. Garrison, the jockey, wrote to | President Dwyer, of the Brookiyn | Jockey Club, demanding an investiga- | tion as to the allegations set forth by | Captain Brown as to the riding of | Blue Wing in the Brookiyn handicap | of 1887, | «The horse Swillington will not be | imported, as expected. Mr. Easton, who 1s in Europe, has a commission to buy Sefion, and it is quite probable that the crack who won the City and Suburban and Epsom Darby of i878 will be brought over ile sea. —8. A, Brown & Co., of Kalamazoo Stock Farm, have sold to Frankfort, Ay., parties the 3 year-old stallion Bell Boy, 2.26, by Electioneer, dam Beauti- ful Belis, 220; by The Moor. The price paid was $35,000, an advance of just $30,000 over his purchase price by Messrs. Brown & Co., one year ago. This is the largest sum ever paid for a trotting 3 year-old. ~Knap McCarthy will ship his hor- ses from Los Angeles, Cal, where he has been wintering, to Terre Haute, Ind., about the middie of April. He is now ng A. V. Paotiand, 2.20%; Belle 2.20; William ©. 2.23§; Jessa Ballard, 2.27}; Daisy Gardner, 2.20}; Geneva S,, 2. 32; Daisy Wilkes, 2.874; William S., 2.38}, and the pacer Johnny Woods, 2.23} John DD. Morrisey’s stables of trot ters and runners at Denver, Col, was sold March 1st some fifty horses bringing about $35,000. The pacer L. C, Lee, rec- ord 2.15, was bid in by Jastes Healy, of
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers