Autumn in the Woods.
Evary hollow full of ferns,
Turning yellow in their turns;
Straggling brambles fierce and wild,
Yielding berries to the ohild;
Oakballs tumbling from the tree,
Beechnuts dropping silently,
Hosts of leaves come down to die,
Leaving openings to the sky;
Bluebells, foxgloves, gone 10 seed,
Eversthing to death decread;
Nothing left of flowers or buds —
Such is autuwn in the woods.
And 50 is there an Autumn known
To the heart, It feels alone,
caring its best days are past;
Nees the future overcast!
Fond acquaintance broken through,
Friends departed; friends untrue,
Human flowers cold and dead,
Covered by a grassy bed;
Hopes, late hiossoms putting out,
Withered soon, and flung about
Hy cruel winds; dread doubts and fears
Finding vent in sudden tears.
Yes, there is an autumn known
lo some hearts thus left alone,
Yet there's this thought after all,
rervs may fade and leayes may fall,
Hearts may change and prove untrue,
All may look as these wonds do—
Thousl sad autumn here is given,
Spriugtitue awaits the just in Heaven,
aa
LOVE THE ViCTOR.
Owen Stanley, huddled in the corner
a third-class carriage, was going
from Manchester
a place in a lawyer's office awaited
him,
nf
va
lerstanding with Uncle
Also. if Uncle Raymond would
g-stone to a better place,
As he walked aimlessly down the
street after he reached Chatburn he
read the name “Cruncher,” Attorney,”
beside a dingy office door, with **Cler}
Vanted” chalked underneath,
He presented himself before Mr.
runcher, and after a sharp cross-ques-
pi
1 the office,
an opportunity of seeing the entire
When
Lad
runcher household in church.
service was over Mr.
alked grimly forth followed
ilent members of his family,
1! evidently in great awe of him.
“Louise Lee,
nd tight. You stupidly let him trip
n the step last Sunday!” said
Cruncher in petulant tones, with a look
y mnateh,
was consolation to bave
naine,
and
It
Her
ne, suited her.
nade
an old man?
Owen longed
and influence, and all the good things
of this iife, to take her away from her
present bondage, and give her a home
tit for But none of these
blessings came to him, and he had to
ontent himself as best he imight with
Louise once a week in church,
A princess,
leasly
book. As he was struggling to recover
Louise's hand-held toward
of paper.
Owen was uncomfortably conscious
common way, by her.
was folded in two. Je idly pressed it
apart with his thumb, and to his as.
tonishment read these words, evidently
written in fugitive baste:
“Look, to-morrow, in
ning
ning
my
bat i
or
»
Lule,
tence!
ix
ti
Owen never knew,
Wien he saw his patron
sorbed in a pile of letters, Owen, like a
coat and umbrella thief, stole out into
the passage where such articles were
jeposited, and possessed himself of the
sid gentleman's sedate looking hat.
There, as he expected, he found stow-
ed away in the lining a tiny little note,
With trembling fingers the now hope-
ful lover laid smooth the complicated
folds of the paper and read:
“Please do not think me forward or
presuming in making the following re-
quest: I am in great trouble, To-
morrow evening at 7 I shall not be
missed for half an hour. Will you
meet me at the end of the lane leading
past our house-—where the wood begins?
1. LL.”
The following evening Owen was at
place of rendezvous fully half an
too soon. As he was beginning
ww despair of Louise's coming she ap-
peated breathless and greatly agitated.
“What must you think of me,’ she
began, “making an appointment with
you, almost a stranger, at dusk, in this
theatrical manner? 1 have a strong
motive in this case, certainly,” con-
tinued Louise. *'I wish to ask your
advice on a matter of the utmost im-
portance to me, I have studied your
face as much as 1 dared in church’ —
Owen's heart gave a bound of delight,
Then she had looked at and thought
about him—*“and I think I can trust
von ane call you my friend. I have no
sther.””
sus looked so lovely with the tears in
ser eyes as she sald this that Owen
longed 1o take her in his arms and kiss
ter, instead of declaring himself her de-
voted servant in plain words,
it ul Rit down on this fallen tree
and I will n my story a in-
ning. You men of the law og
tieus of unecessary preamble,’’ Louise
went on, with a bright smile for a mo-
ment dispelling the melancholy cloud.
ing her face,
“Last February, now nearly four
months ago, 1 was traveling alone from
here to Clover hill on an errand for my
aunt, My companions in the compart.
ment were a very pretty old lady, an
ordinmy lovking gentlemazn of forty:
#
#
%
fF
List
hour
five, and a young man not at all ordi
nary looking.
“He had large black eyes, with a
wild look in them, and his dress and
manners were quite different from
those of the people I was accustomed
to seeing, He sat opposite me, and
soon after the train started began star-
ing at me in a most annoying way.”
“The impertinent rascalll How I
wish I had been there to purch his
head!” exclaimed Owen with warmid,
“Ile perhaps did nothing to merit
quite such severe pumshinent, but he
was certainly then, and has been since,
indirectly the case of a great deal of
misery to me, He amused himself for
some me with casting what 1 suppos-
ed were admiring glances at me, press.
ing his hands to his heart, ad sighing
profoundly.
‘Phen suddenly, to my utter amaze.
ment, he threw himselfon bis knees be-
{ fore me, declared in very Umfl English
| that he loved me to distrac®ion, and,
most startling of all, tore off his very
hand:ome watch and chain and flung
them into my lap.”
“The man was mad, of course.”
looked at our traveling
| companion the middle-aged man al-
| ready magntioned-—in helpless fright.
| He started up, and, with what I then
thought admirable presence of mind, ex-
| claimed, angri ¥:
i * ‘How dare
| ir?”
“The strong language had the desir-
| ed effect, and the man seemed to shrink
and became quiet as a
lamb. I suppose believing me to be
the wife of somebody else shattered his
hopes.”
Here again the rare sweet smile lent
a new charm to Louise's face,
| afterward, 1
you insult my wile,
could not prevail
gave my admirer,
“That was the last lever saw of him,
he
my rescuer, who laughed and murmur-
understand, 1
thanked him as I descended at my des.
t he was to
friend wished
I, who
stockings, and told me a
to see me in the drawing room,
hal no friends, was rauch surprised,
Nor did this surprise lessen when 1 was
| presented to the wan who had silenced
tra.n.
Mitchell, and he
be an old friend of my
‘Illich as Croesus and a bache-
i lor,” my uncle said to me, with a know-
“His name was
1
undcie.
fel,
“1 took a great dislike to Mr, Mitch-
ell: in manner and appearance he was
| most repugnant to me, But 1 thought
| very little about him one way or the
{ other—~why should I interest
i a man older than my father?-—until, a
| week later, Uncle Thomas informed
i me that Mr. Mitehell wished to marry
| me.”
“Preposterous!” exclaimed Owen,
“1 don't often laugh in the presence
of Uncle Thomas, but when he told
me this I laughed heartily. This made
| my uncle very angry. Why should I
make game of the offer of a man of
which I might be proud? I. who
would be in the workhouse were it
not for the charity of my relations. ™
“The brute!”
“If I was so silly as not to know on
which side my bread was buttered--it
was often difficult tell-——he would
and that would
perhaps bring me to my sense, But
why need I tell you the particulars of
this and many another most painful
scene? 1 was silent and undecided
for a while, and at last found courage
to tell Mr. Mitchell that I could not
warry him.
“He listened with a
smile, and replied:
* ‘My young lady will not
al 80 easy as she thinks '?"
“Owing to rusty conduct on the part
| of your amiable uncle,” interpolated
Owen.
fo
disagreeable
find refas.
til the next day. Then my aunt in.
formed me calmly that I was already
marred to Mr, Mitchell,”
“Is that good lady subject to such
fits of mental aberration?”
“I stared at her in amazement, when
she proceeded to explain to me that ac-
cording to Scotch law, if a man in the
presence of a witness says a woman is
his wife, and she does not deny it, it
becomes a legal marriage. There was
a witness in the train that day-the old
lady I mentioned, Mr, itchell is
Scotch, and was determined to have his
rights,
“I could not believe aunt was in ear-
nest, but it seems she was, and what is
wore, they all beset me every hour in
the day with speeches to the effect that
itisof no use to try and my
destiny, Mr. Mitchell has the law on
his side, and the sooner, for appearance
sake, 1 consent to another marriage
ceremony in church the better,
* I have asked vou to meet mo here
this evening, Mr, Stanlev, to tell me
truly if there is any ground for their
saying I am Mr, Mitchell's wife.”
“ii is the most preposterous, coward.
ly lie I ever heard of,” exclaimed
Owen, quite boiling over with indigua-~
tion, ‘In some parts of Scotland, long
ago, some such rubbish as they tell you
might be true; but we are not in Scot-
land. To have this man’s mwoney In the
family your reprobate of an uncle is
trying to play upon your innocent
ignorance, knowing or believing you
had no one to enlighten you, He ought
to be exposed and prosecuted for Tis
villainy.”
“Oh, I'm so glad and thankful you
assured me that this dreadful man
no power over me,’’ said Louise, with
a profound sigh of relief,
“You poor little friendless thing!”
As if of its own accord Owen's arm
encircled the girl's waist, and he ten
derif and sevently kissed her unresist-
ing lips,
“And now I must back to the
house, Dear me, the half-hour is long
punt,”
persuade you to commit any rash folly,
Trust in me,” sald Owen,
Arriving at his lodgings he found
two letters awalting isn; one from
Travers, a special chum in the cold lux.
urious days, and the other—he could
hardly believe his eyes—from Unele
Raymond,
He dashed into a perusal of this last
at once, aud discovered that, after a
year and a month, his #ormer friend
and benefastor, his father’s only broth-
er, was on the track of the fellow who
had committed a certsdn forgery-—a
crime of which Morris Raymond, in
hot, sudden anger, ad accused his
nephew, Strong chrumstantial evi.
dence against Owen was not wanting,
and thus, suffering for the misdeed of
another, he was thrust out for a rough
strugele with the world,
Now, through the merest chance,
the real culprit had been discovered,
und the letter in bis uncle's trembling
hand contained ample apology for past
injustice and earnestly expressed desire
that the old relations be renewed,
**As you are reinstated with the old
—**1 suppose we shall soon have you
among us again, I hope it will not
break your heart lo hear that Nelly
Welland has given you the slip. When
ghe heard of your misfortune she trans
ferred her affections Wo Mortdmer,"’
“I think 1 have found some one who
will console me for the fickle Nelly,”
said Owen to himself, “Did ever a
stroke of fortune come at
moment?”
postbox on several occasions after this:
there were other tele-a-tetes upon the
with tender, sweet delight,
Uncle Raymond’s letter emboldened
Owen to prompt measuzes in depriving
Mr, Cruncher of bisnlece,
of iogiatitude, a battle
sm ————
A SGnake-Charmer’'s Martyrdom.
Muloojee, who fell a
martyr to his belief in his own powers,
ree, was bitten by a cobra a
Bombay, and as usual, a snake-charm-
er inquired where the cobra had taken
refuge, and, on a weedpile
ed out, he removed the
snake, at
the dead x
id v
i
the snake
t Mazagon,
endeavored
ti vy, declaring
to make it bite
that if it did so the «
i %
ii 4% US
vould at once
be restored to life. Fo hours he
persevered, but refused to
strike the body, and at last, irritated
beyond endurance terned and bit Koy.
dajee in the hand. The snake-charmer
calmly placed the snake in a copper ves.
sel and then sat down,
sent for and the man placed inside, bu
ER
WO
deed. The story testifies strongly to
snakes and to
the existence of a siperstition
life that the first hastaken away. The
fact that the snakecharmer
effort whatever to
used no
against its ill effects was not stated in
the evidence given at that inquest held
that be had no belief in
any antidote or modéof treatment. It
or charms he had previously used to
protect him, for Us evidence of the
snake in the woodpile he had seized it
without the slightest Lesitation. It is
tomed to handle sngkes should
death,
A —-
A Kind Heart in ola Clothes,
reporier mentions an incident which he
saw in Beaver street, near the Cotton
of refuse wood.
them as securely as his tiny hands
would permit he manfully undertook
find that the law of gravity and his
feeble muscles prevented success, He
was looking at his fallen bundle in de-
spair, though without a tear, when a
coal cartman stoppel his horse and
asked:
“Where do you want to take that?”
“Over in Washington street, near de
Battery,” replied the boy.
“Well,” said the driver, ‘‘you sit
down by the wood a few minutes until
I unload and 11 carry it for you,”
The boy obeyed and munched some
peaches which a looker-on handed to
him, and the reporter fancied he had
often seen a less kindly face than the
begrimed one in the ¢oal cart in a more
ostentatious vehicle,
~The gray wolf » still a very live
issue In Butte county, Dakota, where
he occasionally plays sad havoe among
borses and other farm stock.
~{(3eorge B. Leavitt has sold the bay
gelding De Bary (2.194) to Maine par-
ties,
a~Any on wanting a horse should
attend W, T. Woodward's sale in Ken-
tucky.
~The Lexington (Ky.) entry list Is
the largest in the history of the organ.
ization.
~The classes filled well for the
Albany and Poughkeepme October
mestings,
«Tailor made bodices, English red.
ingotes, much cut away at the hips,
over Louls X1V waistcoats, elegantly
draped, and French polonaises, artisti-
cally draped and adjusted, divide favor
almost evenly this season.
~Syrian velvet in two like
shot silk, :s made up with faille Fran.
caise and Vietoria
«The prevailing in passemen-
ph
THE POOR OF LONDON,
The Kindness Shown to One Another
in Misfortune.
————— SN
It is not only in thelr perhaps thrift-
less almsgiving that the poor show thelr
sympathy with their own order, They
show it in thelr practical help in times
of sickness and bereavement; they show
it in their readiness to share their scan-
ty food and sheer with the hungry
and the homeless; they show 1t In tho
way in which they take other people's
troubles upon their already overburden-
ed backs; and in the way they frequent.
ly sacridice their time and their money
nm endeavoring to put their poor broth-
ers and sisters who have been pushed
down in the battle of life once more
upon their legs.
The poor live so closely together that
they know a good deal of each other's
are the first to find out each other's
business, So it comes that the poor
woman Uving with her husband and
family in one room knows that the peo-
ple in the next room are without food,
She and her husband go short and send
in half their loaf tw their starving
neighbors, and she sends in the teapot
with the leaves Jeft in jt, and she fills
it up with hot water. This, at least,
gives the recipient a warm drink, what-
ever the particular flavor of it may be,
One remarkable way in which the
poor show their kindpess of heart 1s In
adopting children. fe twtquently hap-
| pens in neighborhoods where the labor-
mg and criminal chsses herd together
| that a family of children may be sud-
| deniy left without father or mother,
Father gets “put away’’ and mother, in
| her grief and despair, goes to drown
{ her sorrow at the public house, and
| sometimes ends by falling herself into
| the clutehes of the law, Such cases as
i theis occur over and over again, and in
the children are
taken care of, washed and dressed and
fed Ly some poor mother living in the
who herself has a lage
family, All this is done ungrudgingly
jand as a ‘-duty.”” If you ask such a
woman what prompted her to burden
herself with the maintenance of another
| woman's family she will tell you there
was nothing wonderful in theact, *'She
supposes as some neighbor "ud
same by her young "uns if ever she
in trouble.”
A poor,
tenement house when others of her un-
ell seriousisy UL
| five cases out of ten
| same house,
do
her seat Lo the wo
girls said. **No, not If they
w it.” These poor creatures pawn-
ed all the clothes they
order to pay for a clever doctor—{or her
case was a complicated one
They relieved
and took it
her day and night,
{ and they made ber stop at home when
he was better for over six weeks, as
the doctor said there
risk in her going
| which time they paid ber rent and every
expense incurred by her iliness, though
to do it they had to deny themselves
| not only any comfort but almost any
necessary of lite, Drave
and good girls, How different would
their lives have been, perbaps, bad
they known in their homes such love
and devotion as they showered upon
their sisters in misfortune,
The poor man who loses his wife finds
plenty of sympathy and practical help
{| among his poor neighbors,
soul comes in at once amd sees
doctors ordered her.
each other at the sick bed
in turns to narse
old enough to look after the others,
mother to take it
{ even the man’s comfort
{ looked, Mrs, Jones will run in
half an hour while he is away at work,
and tidy up his place for him; and
Mrs, Brown will pop "across the road
and get Lis tea ready for him against
he comes home, There are some
| charming little idylls of the courts and
alleys which are waiting to be tld
| tender prose poems, fragrant with the
! self sacrifice and the Leroisms of the
| poor and the lowly: but they must be
told from the beginning to the end.
To cut them down into a bald narra-
tive of incidents would be to rob them
of all their grace and charm,
The sympathy of the poor shows
itself sometimes in a tender regard for
something which has been the pet of a
dead comrade or neighbor, Some little
time back, a hawker in the East End
lay dying. He was a widower and
childless, but he had one companion--a
faithful, loving little dog, who had
lived with him for many years, As
the poor fellow lay on his death bed,
the little dog stretched itself out beside
him, and every now and then licked
the weak, thin hand that rested loving-
ly upon its little head. The old haw-
ker's mind was tortured as to what
would be his faithful sompanion’s fate
after be had gone to his grave; #0 one
day he sent for a mate, and he said to
him: *Jim, when 1'm gone, take my
little Fan, and let her have a home
with you till she dies, will ycu, mate?
I shall die happy if I know as she'll
have a friend to take care of her after
I'm dead.” Jim, a street hawker of
dolls, gripped his friend’s hand and
said: **Yes, mate; 1’ take her, and
promise you as she shall be as comfort-
able as I can make her.”
The kindness to animals is by no
means a rare trait among the poor. I
have seen a lean and hungry lad many
a time sharing his scanty meal of bread
and butter with a stray cur in the slums
and I know one common lodging house
cat, who died In the kitchen amid the
tears and sobs of the rough men and
women, who clustered around to see
their pet breathe its last,
‘Hard on Groeley.
Horace Greeley told thisstory of him-
gelf. Soon after he went to learn the
printing business he went to seo a
preacher's daughter. The next time he
attended meeting he was considerably
astonished at hearing the minister an-
pounce as his text: “My daughter is
belag grievously tormented with a
devil,”
«The bat mare Directress, by Dic.
roan ha Eireator, ATT
FASHION NOTES,
— Ladies who have a fitted garment
for street wear will be glad to know
that the Newmarket or redingote,
braided or plain, will be a favorite gar-
ment through the sutumn and winter.
~The new hussar Zoal Is very styl-
ish, with its black silk passemenieries
flecked with gold on the jackey fabric
of deep blue or Russian green cloth,
Sometimes they are decorated with
alguillettes or tags, with gold or silver
points, The pecubar style of these
of the shoulders the majority of them
being slightly wadded,
~Short visiting wraps and small
visites, with cape sleeves that reach
to the elbow only, are made of black
Lyons velvet, rich colored velvets, and
aiso magnificert Oriental broche ma-
terials with gold threads interwoven.
These are decorated with Persian
lambskins, and also, for later wear,
with many kinds of fur, with muff and
French toque to match,
lady 1s of plain Henrietta cloth, The
skirt has a wide band made of very
narrow tucks around the bottom, and
is lald in medium width side plaits,
Very long, looped-under apron and side
draperies; very full back drapery
drawn up at the side and in the mid-
dle of the back; plain postilion body,
with long point in front; collar and cuffs
of moire,
-A handsome reception costume is
of faille Francaise and moire,
body, sleeves, train and :pinkec-sut
flounces are made of tho faille. A very
full apron drapery, shoulder puffs,
cuffs, pointed V shaped front and
back, and the collar is of moire,
| the apron joins the back drapery and
finished with passementene,
| cashmere, The front of the skirt is in
| drapery.
| extend from the waistline to the bot-
| tom of the skirt on one side. Plain
t body with wide turnedback collars and
revers over a full vest of silk with a
narrow standing collar. Plain sleeves
and plain cuffs.
-Many of the little capotes, cloth
| bonnets, felt turbans and English walk-
ing hats from abroad have a simple yet
artistic trimming, formed entirely of
Madras silk bandkerchiefs twisted
{and arranged around the crowns and
in front with the unmistakable French
| charm. Many of these pretty head cov-
kerchiefs in brilliant colorings,
{| “bandana bonnet” is in immense de-
| mand Ly enthusiastic young ladies who
| are interested in politics. They ime
i the tailor costumes of dark rich toned
i cloth so universally admired.
~A very elegant costume is of faille
Francaise and moire, Plain skirt with
draped apron in deep folds: long mde
sections of the faille
wide
| pieces are draped high about three-
toward the back,
i skirt is plain and straight, and has a
| the belt in one very wide double box-
basque skirt and postilion., The
side of the shoulders, the plaits extend-
ing to the elbows, where they end in a
bow to the wrist,
| are of the moire,
—A beautiful plum colored India
{a plain velvet underskirt in this rich
{shows an undervest of plum colsred
| that is a mass of gold embroidery done
{in Cairo by a certain crippled work.
| man, who sits all day in his balcony
mentation for dresses, The cuffs of the
silk bishop sleeves, which Issue from
the open velvet ones, are embroidered
in the same manner, and the jacket has
tiny velvet buttons worked in stars in
fine gold beads. There is an odd little
collar which is new. It turns down
only at the back over the plain,
straight, upright collar, and fastens at
the sides with three gold wrought but-
tons,
— A very stylish dress for a young
lady is of plain and fancy silk. The
skirt 1s of the plain silk; the front of
the fancy goods, in very elaborately
draped folds, The sides are plain from
the edge of the besque to the bottom
of the skirt; the back ls in very full
box plaits, slightly draped. The body
is plain, with vest and wide revers of
the fancy material, Ilke the apron
front; the collar is plain. The sleeves
are full from shoulder to elbow, and
plain from the elbow to the wrist.
Bands of handsome trimming are sel
cloth; plain skirt; very elaborate drap-
ery in semicircular folds: plain body,
with bodice point and postilion back;
the front of the basque bas bands of
shoulder seams
~A fuil brother to Belle Hamlin,
2.18%, was foaled at the Village Farm
on September 21.
~Brown Hal failed to beat 2.13 at
the recent Nashville meeting, doing
his best mile 10.15,
—Mr. Withers’ fine filly Auricoma is
not likely to race again this season, as
she is slightly lame,
~ Kingston has broken down and been
turned out, Te is well bred and will
be valuable as a stallion.
— Arrow, 2.134, has arrived at Park-
ville Farm, and Mr, Shuits will drive
him on the road this winter.
—Prince Royal added $3070 to his
winnings at Jerome Park, bringing his
tatal gross earnings up ' 531.650.
~{(ieorge Barbee has nad an offer
from W. L. Beott’s manager to ride
for the Algeria stables next season,
| ~Itis settled that thers will be no
| more steeplechases or hurdie races on
| the prograrames at Monmouth Park.
~Superior 2.20}, L. C. lee, 2.15,
| and Annie Carcy, 2.304, J. Page’s hor-
ses, have been very unfortunate this
BEABON.
—Pancoast is Improving. He jogs
| to the halter without any trouble, and
| begins to show his old time vim and
| resolution.
| —JLot Blocum, by Electioneer, re-
| duced his record to 2.17} in a trial
| against time at the Spokane Falls (W.
TA meeting.
| —D, De Noyelles has shipped the 3
{year old filly Nipa DD. , by Nutwood,
| 2 187, out of Adelaide, 2.19§, to Cal-
ifornia to be bred to Sable Wilkes, 2.18,
—The Czar, 2 year old full brother to
Emperor of Norfolk, won at a mile in
! 144, at California recently, beating
| Wild Oats, Shannon Rose and four
| others,
Oliver K., 2.16}, isnow in J. B,
Shockeney's stable at Louisville, Ky.,
{and was fortunately out of his stall
when tte stable was burned on Monday
| Sept., 24th.
~The ch, g. Ilunter, owned by W.
H. Grant, ran away at the Trenton
| races the first week in October, came
| in contact with a projecting rail, im-
paled and killed himsell,
—W. H. Fieming, Fort Wayne,
Ind., has sold to Mr. Hopper, of Phil-
adelpbia, the black filly Emma H.,
{ foaled 1887, by Nutwood, dam Zither,
by Woodford Mambrino,
—Enile and Peg Wollinglon have
been turned out for the season. It has
been a matter of great surpiise to
horsemen how Lakeland has managed
to keep Exile on his legs so long.
— Dwyer brothers’ yearlings, thirty-
| seven in all, have now got back to the
Brooklyn track from Monmouth Park,
where they have speat the last few
weeks, They will be tried soon.
-C, W. Aby, agent for Frederick
Gebhard, bas purchased of RR. W,
Thomas’ acting for E. J. Baldwin, the
| chestnut filly Glen Queen. 3 years, by
King Ban—Gleniva, by Glencoe,
Jr.
—Madam Marantette has purchased
four gray pacers, all of which have rec-
| ords of 2.20 or better, They are Silver
Thread, 2.154: Bennie, 2.18}, Gray
Harry, 2,19}; and Patsy Clinker,
—On the closing day of the Brooklyn
| meeting A. J. Cassait purchased of
Richard Pryor the brown colt Mad-
| stone, 2 years, by Vanderbilt, dam
Nina Turner, for $6000, and be ran for
the Holly stakes that day in Mr. Cas-
| satl’s colors,
~The relations between Sam Dryant
and bis partner, Scroggins, are a trifle
| strained; they are not now jointly in-
{terested in anything but Proctor
Knott, and report has it that the colt
| will belong to one or the other before
very long.
—J, C. Sibley, proprietor of the
Prospect Hill Farm, at Franklin, Pa.,
| has disposed of a half interest in all hus
horse business to Charles Miller, with
whom he has been associated as part.
ner for twenty-two years in many other
{ 'nes of business,
—Fred Folger, 2.20}, will be driven
on the road this winter and carefully
prepared for the Grand Circuit next
year. He will be one of the starters
in the next Charter Oak stake if he Las
as moch speed in 1880 as he had at
Poughkeepsie last June.
—It 18 reported that the b. m. Dolly
Fuller, by Niagara Chief, died re-
cently in Kentucky. She is the dam of
Fuller, 2.13%, and had a foal this season
by Kestucky Prince. Dolly Fuller was
owned by Dr. McCully, of Toronto,
Can., and was sent to Kentucky to be
bred to Belmont after pancoast was in~
jured.
~The chestnut colt Trade Mark,
foaled 1886, by imp. Kyrie Daly, dam
Trade Dollar, by Norfolk; threw his
exercise lad while being worked on the
Coney Island Boulevard on October
3d, ran away and collided with a tree,
killing himself almost instantly. He
was the property of Walter Olney, who
purchased him at the recent Haggin
sale for $1875.
per, Jr., aged,
won in 1.00§, thus beating J
wick’s record of 1.004,
Francisco in 1883 with 115 pounds, In
November, 1887, Kitty Pease, it is
claimed, ran the distance in 1.00, Sam
Harper's performance Was on a
straightaway track.
~The Mimi filly, Mr. Wither's lat-
est sensational 2 old, is a brown
jeft hind
EET
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