OE ARR OE
My Little Wife,
8be isn’t very pretty
{So say her lady friends);
She's peither wise nor witty,
With verbal odds and ends.
No fleeting freaks of fashion
Across her fancy run;
She's never in a passion
Except a tender one,
Her volce is Jow and coolng;
She listens more than speaks;
While others talk of doing,
be duty near she seeks,
it may be but to burnish
The sideboard’'s scanty plate,
Or but with bread to furnish
The beggar at the gate.
I, who see what graces
She sheds on lowly life,
fashion’s fairest faces
"refer my little wife,
Aud though at her with pity
The silly dames may smile,
Who deem her hardly pretty
And sadly out of style.
To me she seems a creature
Su musically sweet,
I would not change one [eature,
Clue curve from crown to feet.
1 if I conld be never
er lover and her mate,
think I'd be forever
the gate,
1
Che beggar at
HE AUTOGRAPH ALBUM.
be an eminent man, or peo-
write me so many let-
private affairs,
large loans without security, to |
faithfully repaid in a few weeks, |
and beseech my interest for Charles
and Mary, who are young and gifted,
and need only an opportunity to aston-
| » world, Above all, they would
not flood me with autograph albums, in
| am expected to write a quota-
tion or a sentiment.”’ |
When this popularity was fresh, I used
ne pleasure in signing my |
honeyed phrases from the |
I besought Heaven to ran
sweet odors on ladies I had never seen,
and I assured gentlemen with whom I
had not the slightest acquaintance that |
y them in my heart of hearts. |
ult was that the albums came in
hy every post, Some of them
rere small, and got mislaid. Others
were large, and demanded an impossible
physical effort to return them. Many
were without the names and addresses |
of tl owners, and these, of course,
ompanied by wnotes, which 1
straightway lost, requesting the utmost
mptitude of compliance. In a few |
8 Caine express
surprise that any one calling him-
f a gentleman could treat with silent
t a volume which
aphs of people s0 much more
than himself. Then there was |
of sorrowful remonstrances,
sible that you retuse to grant
ple a request from a delicate girl
to spend the winter in Florida,
far from her friends, and has nothing
her but the signatures of the
admires?’
y all their
be
ish t
“ gy fie
characteristic
Ww take si
game 0
DOES,
were ac
indignant missives
» 11 114m $ 1
contained the
le she
and illegible hand to an in-
n Florida I never could imagine,
there was a pleasant intimation
noted rival of mine had sent
itograph with alaerity, thus show-
Lis intellectual moral superiority to
« Worse than this was an encount-
t-car with a lady who said:
are the celebrated Mr.
sphorus.” “Madam.” 1 said,
mistaken,’’ She gave me a
and next day I had a let-
that the writer knew at |
iy her book had not been return-
a man who could
iy would probably steal,
to this time I had borne these af-
tions with exemplary weakness, |
k it for granted that when a is
the lawful prey o
that as they have
his reputation, the least he can
to sit signing autograph
ns all day. The popular formula,
led at him like a pistol, seems to be
thin *We buy your
your pictures, we pay lo see
hear you sing, or watch
on the flying trapeze,
ur eminences and your for-4
» due to us, and we demand that
all chain yourself to the auto-|
pen like the galley-slave to the |
[here is nothing in your hand- |
¢ that is essentially beautiful or |
rtuous, but it pleases us to have your |
sign-manual in our books as a proof of |
vour bondage to those who made you.”
time I accepted this decree |
as penalty of success, but the lady
of the streetcar roused me to revolt.
misfortune to be eminent.”
OMe
a stree
Ux you
yw ait
¥
ieeZing 100K,
€r dadeCaring
ast wl
f s0 unbiush-
Ha i
» becomes f
ng like this:
Of
mbols
For along
Lire
“It is my
[ said to myself, “but this persecution |
must end.” At first I thought I would |
point out to my tormentor that a fib in
a Street-car is no worse than a tarra- |
ddle on a doorstep, and that I was at
east as justified in denying my identity
to an autograph hunter as a footman is
in blandly closing the door in an unwel-
come caller's face, with the convention- |
Q
*
al “not at home,” though his mistress
is writing tracts for the young up-stairs.
But I reflected that in such a case rea- |
soning by analogy was waste of time,
It was too late by several generations to
appeal to the commonsense and fair
play of the autograph tyrant. Not per- |
suasion, but a blow, was needed; not
reason, but retaliation, Then think of
the inestimable boon I should confer on
the whole race of distinguished people |
by freeing them from the insufferable |
Joke of the mediocre and obscure! It
was a noble cause, and I fairly glowed |
with the enthusiasm of the man who |
has discovered an entirely new field for |
the spirit of justice and self-sacrifice, |
My resolution was taken, but how
was it to be carried out? I debated
various plans, I might make a prac-
tice of returning the albums without
the expected autograph. It was pleas-
ant to picture the disappointment and
disgust of the despot as he opened his
book and found a blank page. But
that was not enough, I yearned for a
more intense form of irritation, It was
not a bad idea to announce in the news-
paper that 1 would not be responsible
for the return of albums, and that I in.
tended to devote the mps
sent with them to a fund for the benetit
of some asylum for idiots. On consid-
eration I rejected this project because it
was too general, I wanted to strike a
Ulow that would be felt individually
rather than collectively, to bring home
— a
to every autograph flend the sense of
his special, personal inquity. At last |
had the happiest thought of all. Why
not write scathing and contemptuous
quotations in every book? Nobody
could accuse me of deliberate libel, for
of my favorite passages. For instance,
if 1 wrote: “Yours with all good
wishes, Hubert Fitzhosphorus,’”’ and
underneath: “‘A halter gratis,’’ the re-
sponsibility would be quite as much
Shakespeare’s as mine, Or if I address.
ed a lady thus: “May bloom and
beauty rest with youalways!’’ and add-
ed this pleasant ambiguity:
paint an Inch thick,” 1 should sting
without exposing myself to the charge
of open outrage. The more I consid-
ered this idea, the more I chuckled: 1
was going to have a horrid revenge,
and yet enjoy the security of inverted
COIMIMAas,
The great plan was put into execu-
tion without delay. 1 attacked a
mountain of albums, and poured into
3
invective, The ranks
I felt I
Shakespeare and dropped it
in the book
who said he had been collecting
bl for many years. I
fools,”
able signatures
spared neither age nor sex.
thy name is woman,’ was ny contribu-
tion to the album of a lady who, as |
afterward learned, was the pious found-
er of a church and two hospitals; and a
friend described to me with much relish
the sensation created in an ultrh-Pro-
testant family when the daughter of
the house received
tion: ‘*‘Get thee to a nunnery.”
I pur 1 tl
SUe i
ardor
the campaign
bated and
ed the tables,
some time at
whose
the house of a wealthy
fortune had been
either by his father or himself in a
brewery, Mr. Tankerdale
from business long before I knew him,
and the origin of us wealth was never
mentioned in his household,
and whose at
to wake me a frequent
a fine girl, with rather a high color,
which she subdued with those subtle
artifices so dear to the hearts of women,
Ah, Helen
eminence,
guest, *
and not a malignant purpose, made me
+
before you as the
your charms!
had dined with the Tankerdales
and the conversation turn-
ed upon handwriting.
“Yours must be a pretty stiff hand
Fitsphoesphorus,’
r ir? GB
tus’ dance.
nd hand anybody
can
“ < Sp arr ¢ .
As ind as your the
11 balance at
said Mr. Cuadgell, who
distant relative of the Tankerdales, not
attracted Ly eminence as distinct {rom
dollars,
“AS roun
brewery,
' , *
DANK,
barrels
it not aloud,
: uch about the
" said Hel
writes the dic
I said,
nfortunately the effect
to heighten her color,
Ju
‘That is because it
her ear. 1
this speech was to
which was already rather strong. But
oh. Helena. I knew it was natural!
“When I was young,”' piped an old
lady at the other end of the
“girls used to write a lady-like hand,
ut now they try to scribble like
ul it forward, I do, There's Hel-
that
whose writing is t
men
men,
ena,
always makes me blush,
rybody laughed, and
sAunnt June still w
ine old g used
modern rib 18 80
wks her,”
“Do you find
tiresome?’ said Helena to me.
wey are pests,” 1 answered,
had
Tankerdale
id pen she
shi
Very &
“Th
they
have given in much sooner, or settled
acre,”
of a cheek!” murmured Cuadgell, in his
coffes-cup, with his eye on the host,
“When [I was young,” said
Jane, *‘'l once bad a letter from Grim-
aldi, the famous clown, you know,
ong before your time,” added the old
lady, looking at me, “Ay, ¢lownswere
clowns in those days!”
believe that I was Grimaldi’s suceessor,
and a very poor substitute,
said Helena,
“But such a request from you, I
should feel honored,” said I, *‘But
the general nuisance is so great that I
really think of them.”
plained my glorious scheme for scar
distress,
“Excellent!” said Cudgell; “but
were to meet some of them, say ata
table like this?”
“Mr. Fitzphosphorus knows
fri 'nds too well,” said Helena.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” laughed
her father. *“If you had sent him an
autograph album, you might have had
a withering quotation like the rest,”
At this a curious shiver of presenti-
ment ran through me, and I looked in-
quiringly at Helena, who had a queerly
mysterious expression in her eyes, But
his
again, :
“When I was young,” she quavered,
My brother Charles picked up a piece of
paper one morning, and sald it was
dropped by the man who swept the
chimney, I remember two lines very
well indeed
‘Queen of Beauty, while yon sleep,
Dream you of your chimney. sweep? '
“Don’t vou know that I sent you my
on ps
denly.
My blood ran cold.
celved it,” 1 gasped.
“It was some time ago,’ she sald,
had never asked for an aulograph
before, and I thought I would try the
effect of the request on the only emi-
nent man I know, 1 scarcely knew
you at all, though, when I sent the al-
bum. And to make the onslaught all
the more formidable, I sent a book for
ps pa and another for Aunt Jane, But
of course you have overlooked them,”
I remember with horror that only
that very morning I had cleared off
some arrears of albums in a great hur-
ry and a very bad temper, that I had
not examined the names of the sender,
and had left them to be addressed and
posted by somebody else.
Was it a fancy, or did I hear the
postman’s knock? A few minutes
later a servant entered with three
books.
“Why, Lere they are!”
gleefully.
“Now we shall
phosphorus distinguishes his friends,”
said Cuadgell, with a malicious smile,
I never liked that man,
“Take more claret and Lrace
yourself up,” said Tankerdale,
jut I was far beyond the fortifying
aid of claret, I saw lHeleua
of the
Abd |
“y
cried Helena,
sS010e
one
me,
ush from the room.
“Hallo!” said
been pitching it
Cuadgell, “yon
his
has given
yourselve
strong.
“rod
make
is
ena’s quotation: you
Here's a crusher for you, Tan-
‘How like a fawning pul
other,’
kerdale:
he looks!”
“By
CRI
Creorge, Sir 16d
ing out of ns chair,
my host
“this
a sweet thing for Aun
Cudge, striking
**Aroint
the rump-fed 1 1 cries.’
old lady was purple with fury,
“Calls me a witch and an onion,
he?’ she screamed. ‘When I
HIY Ol
YW
one
broken his head. N«
though a vag-
abond out of a circus, a monster out of
meénagerie—"’
Here she broke down and wept, My
but 1
to convince them
1 was the victim
Yan,
mie, and
to the many letters in which 1
the sacred symbols of na-
ture that I knew her complexion to
a8 real as the jewe's of her mind
I have abandoned my
I am asked for my
I give it with all my
weakness, If any who
would like to have my signature, I
shall be delighted to send it, and pay
the myself, For somehow it
seems to me that am not so eminent
as | was,
a circus or a menagerie,
oincidence, but in
to ses
at plan,
2 4
autograph
reads this
postage
- --— - —
An Ingenious Mendicant's Tricks.
blind mendi.
year or 80 has
There 18 a seemingly
cant who for past
gained a living in the Eastern district
of Brooklyn. He is a strapping
uly, of dark complexion,
capable of any kind
labor, The writer
the
Taw
aoing
met him a
f
+ man whom be had frequently bestow-
ed small change upon when he stood on
street, New York cit
Up to the time the
last he did not have
any doubts of the man’s affliction, but
an incitlent occurred on last Monday
night which will make the reporter man
wide awake,
On the 7.30 boat from Brooklyn the
reporter on lookis suddenly
served the man, but instead of working
the blind dodge he had a new wrinkle
of a one-armed veteran. In a
satchel suspended around his
neck he bad a number of silver and
gold paper envelopes, in which were
two or three kinds of court plaster, the
of which he proclaimed
loud tone of voice, He was not very
successful in disposing of his wares,
and when the boat reachex] the slip the
reporter followed the man as he got off,
He walked up East street to Broome,
$
OL
up
small
satchel to a dissipated looking mortal,
piece of pasteboard. When he had
out in a piteous tone of voice: *'Please
help the blind,”
The reporter watched
to him
and said:
*h
saw. I noticed you on the ferry bout,
and now you suddenly become blind,
What do you mean by it?"
The mau opened his eyes, turned and
Jowery.
~The importers’
boxes are packed with elegint rancies
—————
and new snd rare devices in beading
scription. Some of the open-work
fabrics for dinner and carriage gowns
are made to imitate elaborate Persian
embroideries wrought of silk or silk
canvas. Much of the handwork Is in
sequins and pendants of various sorts,
and numerous small wraps, fronts of
bodices, side-panels and peplums are
elegantly decorated with these garni-
tures, most of them beiog wholly novel
in paUarA.
--In consequence of the change in
Sha aanpie tournure, wraps that were
ad to the former ungainly and
uncomely excrescences, are greatly
modified, nod bonnets whose grotesque
heights wera in a way rendered neces-
sary to establish harmony in the tout
ensemble, are lowered considerably to
conform to the strict law of propor-
tion, which cannot be set at naught in
one direction without exac a coun
terpoise in another,
Lost and Found,
My name is Anthony Hunt, I ama
drover, and live miles aud miles away
upon the Western prairie. There
wasn’t a house in sight when we first
moved there, my wife and I, and now
we haven't many neighbors, though
those we have are good ones,
One day, about ten years ago, I went
away from home te sell some fifty head
of cattle, 1 was to buy some groceries
and dry goods before I came back; and,
above all, a doll for our youngest,
Dolly,
of her own-——only rag babies her mother
had made for her.
Dolly could talk of nothing else, and
went down to the gate to call after me
to get a big one, Nobody but a parent
can understand how full my mind was
of that toy, and how, when the cattle
were sold, the first thing
to buy was Dolly's doll.
large one, with eyes that would open
ed it under my arm while I had the par-
cels of calico and tea and sugar put up.
Then, late as it was, I started for home,
I might have been more prudent to
stay until morning, but I felt anxious
to get back, and eager to hear Dolly's
praizes about her doll.
I was mounted on a steady-going
nse, and pretty well loaded, Ni
in before I wasa mile from toy
settled down as dark as
, of road 1 know of, 1 e«
felt ny way, though, I
well, When the
been brew }
or }
ng
Lorrenis,
may-be six miles,
I rode as fast as 1 could,
fre i
HN Bone.
but
ad liter
voice. | st piped short and 1
again. |
swered me, 1 couldn't see at
I got down and
grass called
swered, Then
'm not timid,
a8 known to be a drover,
ioney about
to rob and murder me.
stitious, not very, but how could a ehild
on the prairie in a night, at
such an hour? The yward
that r ’
Vili
called,
again,
I be-
but 1
dt around in the
id again was an
me,
Iai
itself in-——————most
{ to me then, but of
I heard the ery, and I said:
“lf man’s child is lereal
any ls,
1s
die,
I searched
thought
again, At last I
fa clump of trees
of about
road, In
night I prayed to the
he might guide me to the
lead me through the
darkness of that stormy night
Hie
FL.ord that
Was
Iord heard
up under one of
a little dripping thing
and sobbed as I took it in
called my horse,
y me, and 1
in sore need of help,
Cuddied
my arms. I
beast came 4
tucked the little soaked this
as well as 1 could,
t home {0 mamma. soe med
30 tired, and pretty soon cried self Lo
leep on my bosom,
It had slept there over an hour
| saw my windows, There were
lights in them, and 1 supposed my wife
had lit them for my sake, but when l
got to the doorway I saw something
was the matter,
fear of heart five minutes before I could
As last I did it, and saw
the room full of ngighbors, and my wife
amid them weeping. When she saw
Moun ius
}
own
“Oh, don’t tell him,” she
will kill him."
“What is it, neighbore?’’ I cried,
and one of the neighbors inquired:
“What's that have in
arms?"
“A poor lost child,” said 1; *‘1 found
iton the road, Take it, will you? I've
turned faint.'’ And I lifted the sleep-
ing thing and saw the face o
child, my Dolly.
It was my own
other, that 1 had
ser
you
»
i
§
.
none
the
and
up on
i child
wandered out to meet papa and the doll,
while the mother was at work, and
they were lamenting her as one dead,
I thanked the Lord on my knees before
them.
It is net much of a story, neighbors,
I think of it often in the nights,
and wonder how I could bear to live
now if I had not stopped when 1 heard
the cry for help upon the road, hardly
louder than a squirrel’s chirp.
That's Dolly yonder with her mother
in the meadow -—a girl worth saving, 1
think: the prettiest and sweetest thing
this side of the Mississippi.
LL
™ e Modern Newsboy.
but
a
“I an’t sold all my papers,’ replied
Jim--for that was his natoe—'and
was the old man goin’ to
jck me. And I'm so tired! for I bin
for Thanksgivin'.”
“You should say father, and not old
wan,” answered Mr. Hunneman re-
provingly; ‘and who is Joe?’
“My brother. His legs were run
over by the horse-car, so he can't walk
nor work no mare,”
Mr. Hunneman thought of his own
and ‘well-fed; and then he asked how
many papers were left,
“Five!” answered Jim, as he stood
shivering.
Thereupon Mr. Hunneman put a
round, shining silver dollar into Jim's
hand, ‘There, you oan. hoy Joe Sous
rapes, Never mind change, an
An your papers!” Then blowing his
nose vigorously, he walked away very
fast, and felp very warm and virtuous,
But a smile came over Jim's
FASHION NOTES,
~Lolored satin straws are in great
favor, The feather trimmings are put
on quite at the back,
~The new cotton materials are
legion in color and make, but pale piuk
and gray appear to be in the ascendant.
| Stripes of all widths predominates,
{ Une pretty variety has alternate stripes
of check cambrie, about two inches or
£0 In width, in shades of gray. blue,
red or brown, with stripes of open
| work white canvas, For cool morn-
ing or easy tenms wear these would
look well,
~Striped moire and grenadine, in
black or white for both day and even-
ing gowns, are among the novelties,
and also alternate stripes of moire and
jetted lace. Gray woolen materials are
particularly popular, and many of them
are mixed with broken checks Some
have waistcoats, cuffs, and side panels
of white cloth, braided with gray and
silver fancy braid; and in a few cases
the braiding itself 1s carried cut on
anotber shade of gray, or even on pale
tan-colored cloth, ‘I'his is quite new,
land gives an uncommon look. The
color islald as a band on the white
| cloth, and then braided. Dark green
| with white eloth vest, tan eloth band
t and oxidized silver braid, look well,
{ ——Heliotrope is still the fashionable
color, a8 it is conzldered in better taste
for the street than pink or blue, The
| the costume, but i8 by no means an
| exclusive model, The large Directoire
{ bonnet, with its protruding front, is
quite as fashionable, As for balls, they
are enormous and very heavily
trimmed with feathers, But here,
also, there is great varlely, and we see
small shapes, which look more fit for a
boy's than a lady’s head. :
—The fashionable spring jacket
| made tailor-fashion, tight-fitting at
back, with loose fronts. It Is made of
{cloth or fancy woolen, to sait
dress, There 182 a small velvet collar,
lie
main open from the neck downward.
The revers on the fronts and on the
sleeves are of the woolen material,
{ neatly stitched. Enormously large
{ fapey metal buttons are placed in a
row of three or five upon each side,
but are not intended to be fastened,
— Black toilets will continue to be fa-
vored of fashion for all eccasionsand in
all fabrics. Nothing will prevall against
them, and for evening there are black
toilets embroidered with gold, com-
bined with gold-colored moire,
panel of gold embrowdery,
corsage demidecollette,
embroidered plastron,
laretis spreading to the
with a gold
a flaring
shoulders, and
the gold embroidery,
—A stylish gown is of dove habit
| cloth; the bodice, handsomely trimmed
across the shoulders, has a
i vest of Lincoln-green velvet, a simi-
| larly shaped piece al Lhe back being
continued below the waist, The
| braided trimming is of blended red,
green and gold, and is brought just to
the figure in front, with back to cor-
the shoulders. The skirt, gracefully
idraped, is simply pointed with the
trimmings.
~A checked tweed. is In two colors,
fawn, with a line of heliotrope, and is
made up blended with plain fawn ma-
| terial. The bodice, of check, is cut
almost on the bias, and has a waist-
| coat of the plain, with narrow over-
| vest of hellotrope velvet and sleeves of
| plain tweed to correspond, The style
‘of this skirt is specially suited to
| lighter materials, such as will be re-
| quired with the advancing season. On
{hangs in a deep founce, with sets of
{ front drapery of plain material Is
tucked nnder at the foot, losing itself
on the left side beneath a long coat
drapery of check.
- French milliners bave added to
their dainty
{ vests, fichus and collars made entirely
coming down to a point in front,
where is set a graceful bell bouquet,
from which fall trailing garlands of
maidenbair fern, rose, sprays, arbutus
vines in blossom, fern, fronds and
other delicate greenary. For garden
! parties there is nothing more effective
| and appropriate than these floral acces-
quaint round bat wreathed with flow-
ers and a lace parasol similarly
| adorned,
| =—=Nothing could be prettier than the
litle frocks now on exhibition for wee
| girlies. Quaint, unique, picturesque
iand dainty--all these adjectives are
quite appropriate in describing them.
there are no very decided
changes from last season, yet what
| there are, are all in the way of im-
| provement. Among the most import
| ant of the changes we note the aband-
{ onment of coat sleeves, This is as it
| should be, as the full sleeve gives the
| ehiildren ® chance to use their arms
| freely, a thing they could not do with
| the coat sleeve, as their elders can all
| vouch for.
| «The inexhaustible fancy which has
already designed so many different
corsages is still at work preparing
tty novelties of delicate and beauti.
ul summer fabrics. No matter how
plainly made and draped the skirt to
be adorned. Plain corsages are become
ing less and less numerous, Even for
stout figures, the waist must have the
uppearance of belng draped, If not ac-
tually so, the modiste making use of
ry Ce te ry
a pl a revers of
velvet, a fall of lace, or a Gobu of une
HORSE NOTES.
- Blue Rock, brother to Race and, is
well thought of,
—8, A. Tanner has moved his horses
to Belmont Course,
~(iallifet continues to be the book
favorite for the Kentucky Derby.
~—Erie, Pa., will hold a $5000 sum.
wer meeting in June,
—Jerome Whelpley willdrive Nathan
Straus’ horses again this season,
—8. 8. Brown's runners have been
shipped from Mobile to Washington.
~*‘1ke” Fleming jogs Major Dicker
son’s road team out to F.eetwood track
every fine day.
Gus Wilson, of Cleveland, bas the
blk. m. Josephine, by Kentucky
Prince, in his stable,
~—Peter Pollard, the well-known Bal.
timnore horseman, spent most of the
winter in New York.
~Mr. Ellis D. Yarnall recently pur-
chased of George A. Bingerly a brown
gelding that can trot in 2.40.
— Bookmakers report that there
never has been a spring when betting
on the Kentucky was such a drug.
—Robert Steel has purchased the bay
mare Happy Maid, 2.80, by Happy Me-
dium, dam Rosa Bonheur, from A.
Oliver,
—Bankrupt was invincible at the
New Orleans meeting. He did 1 mils
and 70 yards the other day within }
~ Edmund Dwyer Gray, founder of
the Dublin 5; died on March 27.
orl.
-—The Dwyer contingent of 2
olds, which have been
year
wintering in
Ben Starr, trotting record 2.21}
has been sold to a Boston man for $3000
by A. T. Paige, of Akron, O.
~The 8 year old colt Comrade, by
Gideon; dam by Norten’s Hambleto-
nian, that made such a good showing
in the 2 vear old stake at Mystic Park,
last season, died the last week In
March at C, Gilmore's stable, Water.
ville, Me.
-The blind stallion Scott’s Thomas,
2.21, by General George H. Thomas,
Rice, by Whitehall, was
kicked iu the stifle a few days ago
while performing stud duty. The bone
was broken and he Is not expected to
recover,
— An important change has been
summer {rotting meeting, July 24 to
28. Purse $2000, for 2.19 class pacers,
will be for 2.28 pacers instead. This is
in deference to the wishes of owners of
pacers eligible.
~The broodmare Rosa, by Roscoe,
dam Vienna, by Vandal, died at the
farm of Foster & Wright, Mercer, Pa.
foaling a filly to Henry Wade, 8h
was the dam of the well-known George
Wilkes stallions, Barmie Wilkes and
Wilkie Collins,
~The management at Clifton an.
nounces that a prize of $1000 will be
awarded to the jockey having the most
wins at Clifton and Brighton Beach
$500 to the jockey baving the second
largest number of winning mounts.
~James McLaughlin was presented
at the Star Theatre New York with
several floral tributes and a gold and
silver whip studded with precious
stones, the gift of RK. K. Fox, asan
the racing season of 1887,
The “good luck’ which was prover.
ial last season with D. A. Iionig, the
St. Louis turfman, appears to be on
the wane, First he Jost the sarvices of
his very able trainer, BR. W, Thomas;
then his promising filly Omaha diad,
Nan Leland, and now a dispatch comes
from St. Louis announcing the death
from pneumonia, after a few days ill-
ness, of Archie McDonald, his new
-Some of Corrigan’s horses are
equally at home on the flat or in going
over the sticks. Insh "al is a stake
animal, but for all that he is being
schooled for cross-country work, and
jumps as well as the best of them. Ten
Times won a hurdle race 1n great style
a couple of weeks ago, and the next
week won just as easily on the flat, and
in pretty good time at that. Winslow
is also a jumper as well as a fair flat
performer.
~The entries for the Clay stakes,
Island Park’s great $8000 purse for the
3.00 class closed AprilOth, and received
eleven nominations, as follows. A. P.
McDonald, Albany, N. Y.; A. W.
Huburger, New Haven, Conn.; J. J,
Bowen, Boston, Mass; R. W, Hunt,
Troy, N. Y.; J. E. Tumer, Philadel
phia, Pa.; D. De Noyelles, New York
city; A. J. Russell, Albany, N. Y.;
John Trout, Boston, Mass; Roys
Bros. , Columbus, Wis. ; M, PP. Longley,
Lyun, Mass, ; Pleasanton Stock Farm
Co.. San Francisco, Cal. The Clay
stakes will be trotted the second day of
the great Eastern circuit meeting, on
Jane 13,
«Breeders have asked frequently at
what age the average brood-mare will
stop breeding. The question is one that
can hardly be answered when such a
ago a oolt by Duquesne,
2.173. Mr. H. N. Smith told me a few