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