The Two Lives. Among the lonely hills they played, No other bairns they ever knew, A little lad, a little maid, In sweet companionship they grow. They played among the ferns and rocks A chiliith comedy of life Kept house and milked the crimson docks And called each other man and wife, They went to school; they used to go With arms about each other laid; Their flaxen boads, in rain or snow, Were sheltered by a single plaid. And so—and so it came to pass They loved each other ers they knew; His heart was like a blade 0° grass, Ani wer's was Hike its drop o® dew. The vears went by; the changeful years trought larger life and toil for life; They parted in the dusk with tears— They called each other man and wife. disappear around the corner of the street? * ® ¥ » ® * Her beautiful brow was still pressed against the window pane, when the maid entered and handed her a card, She only cast a glance ab the name, but the soft melancholy which overspread her face vanished. Iler countenance lighted up as though a sunbeam had illuminated it, and she replied: “Tell him that he is welcome.” A few moments later a tall, hand- some and manly form entered the pore tiere. The twilight wae so far advanc- ed that only surrounding objects were visible, and she went forward to meet the visitor, Truly, Baron, I should receive you with reproaches,”’ He bowed low over the hand which she extended to him and said, ‘‘First allow me to kiss thissoft hand, There, They married—she another man, Aud be in time another maid; The story ends as it began Among the lovely hills—~they p! EE WAT TEIN DY A HAIR. she played charmingly. Whether it was a tschardas from | Liszt or a fantasia from Moszkowski I i know not: but it streamed forth under | her white fingers like a rousing gypsy | melody and as sparkling as old Tokay | wine. Swarthy figures sported in the | delirious makes a dance. A slender | youth laid his arm about the waist of a | blackeyed maiden, and drew her with- | in t whirling circle; the cymbals | rang and the fiddles scraped, and the | youth clasped the slender waist more | closely; their glowing glances met, a | trembling ery rang out, and these lurid | creations of fancy floated on high in the | heated air. Then, all at like | frightened ghosts, these imaginary | forms vanished, The creations of fancy ! disappeared, and a lovely ideal glided | into the melody. It was the green | wood, the green German forest of | fairy-land; and the moonlight glistened | through the swaying branches i bathed them in liquid silver, pale beam rested on ithe pathway bya | white rose and kissed It passionately, | and the white rose nodded in its dreams bene the kiss, and dreamed on of | moonbeams and love, of spring and of | nightingales, of autumn and of separ- | ation. i The final chords of the Schumann reverie trembled through the stately | salon, The evening 3 18 once, 1 i and oue 3 alll ¢ sun sent its parung gli the heavily damasked | ning out upon | ning he wind breathed greeting throu curtained window ope the balcony, and gently i Th Fa ihe Gouelol 1 i. still remained in corner. ile rested his broad brow on | his hand and was motionless, Perhaps | he still thought of the moonbeam and the white rose. A small hand w shoulder. “Why do you not applaud, Docto He rai ] his sofa | 3 as laid lig £9 wid his head and looked into the beautiful face smiling at him. “You are right, Maria,” he said, “I am unthapkful. In listening your music I forgot the world and myself.” “You are an sir, like all the rest! ishment you must sing me “I am not in voice to-day, Maria.” “You are melancholy, dear friend, and why?" “To-night I must bid you farewell!’ She looked at him questioningly. { evieritsl $Earn incorrigible flatterer, And for a pun- ’ id you good-by; the city, perhaps for. “I must b ht 1 leave nig ever It was surely consternation that de- pitted itself in her face. «“[ certainly do not understand you, Donning.” “For some time I have write a work on the botany onie:. The last sheet of my book on the physiology of plants was sent to the publisher yesterday. plan has now pothing to hinder 1 start for Africa.” : And you leave mé alone?” “1 do pot leave you alone, Maria.” His words sounded bitterly. The beautiful woman was silent and looked at him sadly. “You love me, Donning,’’ she said, after a pause, with a low voice. The doctor did notanswer. He look= ed with fixed gaze, his hands still shad- ing his eyes, “1 did not suspect such a thing; it is a misfortune for us both, Donning.” He heaved a deep sign; be could con- trol himself no looger, “Maria! he groaned, and pressed a long, passionate Kiss upon her white hand, “Poor friend!" “Aly. Maria, poorer than a beggar.” “And | cannot help you.” “1 know it, Maria, you other.” “1 do.” “May you be as happy as your heart, your spirit and your beauty deserve,’’ “Donning, must you really go?" | am an egotist, Maria, and cannot bear to see another by your side.’’ “It will pain me to part from you, Douning.” “You will soon become accustomed to others, as one does to a new hat or a new carpet. In a year you will have forgotten me, Maria." “Never, my friend. Besides, the un- seltish generosity with which you have aided me since the death of my husband would alone be sufficient to keep you in my memory forever, When do you start?’’ ““I'his evening, on the Hamburg ex- press,” His voice trembled as he reached out his hand, “Farewell, Marial” She also was much moved. “Farewell!” she said “May God protect theel will be happy.” He pressed a quick, passionate kiss upon her slender hand and tore himself away, and rushed forth. “Donning!” She made a few quick steps toward the door, but she bee thought herself, She went to the win- dow, and looked out, mute and help- less, ufter the figure rapidly disappear. ing in the gloom, Why was it that her heart grieved 80 us she saw his form it, and love an- feelingly. I hope you t vou tay scold me.” at vour conscience! you of leaving your in such a dread- | “I wonder Has not accused “On the contrary, it has said to me, It is very praise- you have practiced tins | would of a worthy that victory over yourself, for you have compromised the character ady who 18 very dear to you. And your friend Theodore, who once turn- ed his back on a French pastry, be- cause he had been four weeks in Karls- | bad, would take off his hat at such hero- | ism as yours.’ ”’ She laughed. “He quiet, sir, I don’t believe « word | you say. But if you will promise ne | i to be sober for a little while, I will let you sit by my side on the sofa.’ | “For such a prize I promise to put ! on a face. by the side of which that of a Sunday afternoon preacher would be | 4s merry as the phizof a musical clown | from Renz.” i “You must talk sense or I will for- | jid your coming near this sofa.” { will not say another word.” “Where have you 1 1 last eight days?’ “For con? that I fell from a ho my ankle.” “ That wosld be a doub! I would not believe you. “Why?” i “Bec saw you day before yos- | terday at the Zigeuner, Baron,” i “I take back the sprain, but I did | i tiny 1 hd Cell 14 venience le. My carriage | by the theater. It] and I was possessed | he finale of “That happ was ju f a whim to see irst act: 1 intermission, Ah!” “You sh Baron”! “What do you “When you take a lady is very possibl ned to pass st 8 o'clock » more vias } - inn | i remained till Lhe ald be more careful, | mean by that??? to the thea. an empty | box. You your most tender feelings.” “You take this heart!" “Yea “You are mistaken, it was my ried cousin. Her husband has away, and she asked me to accompany profane 1 2 lady for my sweel- is mar- ont fone “Accept my compliments on the re- lationship, Your cousin is a very beautiful woman, I have never seein | such lovely golden hair, except in Mar- kat's pictures, But you must swear to me that you do not love her.” “How strange Maria ** i “Swear it to me.” “Ope swears by his innocence. Une | loves 4 woman, as one does not swear love one, You mis But I thank you for Ife you are, for instance—butl 1 * O83 NOL love me.”’ “Your logic is good!” i “Is it not also true? nswer me, | Just at this point there was a knock | fie dropped the hand he | seized. She arose and called, shone through the open wald brought in a great | daced It on the table again and stood op- | The lamp shed its full light over the pair and illumined | the blushing face of the beautiful | woman, i Fa i ‘Answer me, Mariai | She was silent and kept her eyes on | the floor, but allowed lim to take her | hand, “Maria?” Slowly she raised her eyes. “Maria!” Ile attempted to clasp her slender The light door as the bronze lamp and | They were alone posite each otber, “ARM “What is it?” “Do not touch me, sir!” She had retreated a couple of steps, and was as pdle as death. “I don’t understand you, Maria.” Her eyes flashed. “Let me advise yon, Baron, to exer- cise more care when you visit your cousin again; first have your coat brushed carefully before you pledge your love to another lady! Accidental ly a golden Markat hair has remained on your sleeve from those tender em- braces, and such an indiscretion is not to be wished for. Shall I ring for the maid to bring you a brush?’ “Thank you, dear lady, I will have it attended to at home’’; and, takin his hat, he bowed low before her an left the room! Again she was alone, The scornful smile faded from her face, She her hands upon her brow and closed her eyes, And this man she had loved-had th t that she loved. He had sworn his love to her, It was false. Why had he deceived her? Was it ber wealth that had attracted him? A mere chance had saved her from enduring ns falseness through his life, Oh, the mis- erable wretch! And for Aim she had sacrificed another, Another, who only a short hour before had passionately de- clared Lis love, and who was now gone forever, driven forth by despair! Awa over the sea, into an unknown world, Beneath an unknown sky, where he sought—and perhaps would find-for- getfulness, She had been 80 gecustoms ed to those twilight visits of ber friend —whose heart was more true to her, more overflowing with self-sacrifice and love, than any other, and who was more ready to shield her against misfortune in the time of need—when avarice was grasping at her fortune and slander aiming at her reputation, He had earned her trust with the pledge of his life! Yes, these twilight hours had become a necessity to her. When her friend came she was so relieved of her cares, To him she could tell everything, great or small—for all, he gave her counsel, He was so wise, She always used to listen gladly to his intelligent conversa- tion; to his rich, sonorous voice, when when he spoke of art, or the passing events of the world, Never more Those true eyes with their steadfast look would never meet hers more, The strong, manly hand which gulded her, which shielded her from the attacks of envy and warded off the blows of slan- der—she had thrust it from her; en. away. She had pressed that hand for the last time—for the last time! She stared with vacant eyes into the dying fire. It sounded 80 strange, 80 solemn —this “for the last time!” like the muffled sound ot the earth clods falling into the new-made grave of a loved one, Tears glistened in her eyes, “Nol! she cried, **not for the last time!’ She hastened to the writing desk, tore a | sheet of note paper from the pad and wrote a few lines, | “Take a carriage and deliver this letter to its address. If you do not find the doctor at home, go to the Ham- burg depot; he is goingon the express, 1 will hold you responsible for its sate delivery! Hasten!” The maid obeyed. Upon the next day, when the doctor, in speechless happiness held the hand never nore to leave ber he asked: wand on what did this d band, Maria?” She | iscovery | and i ' isda ni} y smiled, i . crel meaning, Ralph. He was a big, awkwad sawmill, H is home was a gray ld where he dwelt with one of whom was valid, qui the other was sto but idiotic and two maiden aunts, {, fragile d querulous; strong Often t¢ rush out and leave theold place to to the dogs and the old women to the | workhouse: but a dogged sense of duty i held him, so he stayed and worked on, One of the handsomes farms in county had Bs bout the old house tweily Years ago, when Ralph Myda®’s yi wife «1 and left her baby boy, hus- | Iways reticent, lad grown posi- | His two sisters seldom | iim speak, but sne day, when | le Ralph was abot 5 years old, | {ather said in a strange, | tes iii 1 1 K-lempered 0 3 Tw am ih RAY t t. ut iy sile was | ihto 3 i Tid i pit ri) ot f i t stretched elds | green ser UNE the 1 . RiO0IS. ood y stern way: “I'm going to sell te farm. You | two girls can live here it the old house, | and I will deposit mone§ enough in the | bank to keep you and te boy untill hall go to | Australia.” Huldal, the invalid, tried out pite- but her brother paid no heed; Hannah, the idiot, stamd stounily and | ously, That day the farm and the mill privi- | lege on the little river vere soid to al large corporation that bad been trying | for some time to buy it, k order to erect Ralph Mydack came lpme and pack- ed his trunk, but his metions were un- he was sick, very sick. There was little that two helpless women could do for him; the farm | hands were dismissed, all but Jared, who was to stay and take care of the | cow: so they sent him off for the doc- | dack was dead. i Ten bitter years dragged slowly by. | The little money in the bank was soon | exhausted, and partly on charity, part- | ly by the few vegetables the neighbors helped them raise in the garden patch, | the two old women and the awkward, | sullen boy lived on. | It was well known that a large sum | of money had been pad to Mr My- | nothing was done about the cotton mills, and from the hour of the pay-| ed, all trace of the mosey disappeared | as effectually as though 1t had been | dropped into the sea of oblivion. Lawyers searched the old house, looked over the few mpers and books that Mr. M. had evidestly intended to take with him, searched his wearing apparel and gave up in despair. Little Ralph grew up a stout, healthy lad, and when he was 15 he asked some of the neighbors to help him rig the old sawmill anew, that he might saw logs and thus eke out his scanty support, 1t was here that Gertrude Kendennis found him one day early in June, He had seen her bright face about there the year before, but had turned away from her pleasant words with a moodiness that was aknost rude. For what had his weary, follsome life to do with beauty or kind words? What indeed? And yet she would not let him be. She went every day and watched, as by 4 resistiess fascin- ation, that pitiless, great saw tearing its slow way through the logs, making them useful while reerning only to de- stroy them. He was 20 years old at last and was 19, She had been fussing about the old house, making gruel for Aunt Huldah, and trying to coax a smile upon Aut Hannah's stolid face but really only waiting for Ralph to return to the vil- she fo came in soon, and seeing her standing alone in the clean, poorly-fur nished room. he went straight to ber, BA —————e—————————— and, taking both her hands in his, he said: “Now, Gertrude—Miss Kendennis— you really must not core here in this manner, People are talking of it down in the village. I heard it remarked upon to day, and If your uncle should hear of it he would send you to a nun- nery and kill me outright.” “Oh, you do not want me here!” she said, trying to speak playfully, but with a little moan in her voice. #1] do—I do,” he answered, putting his arm about her, holding her close and touching her hair with a quick, caressing motion, “God knows it is worse than death to send you away, but, my darling, see the long, weary life stretching before me. Bee the work to be done here and you hovering like some bright bird just out of reach. Could I drag you down to share this | poor old nest? No, no; it would not | be right. I have served duly too long to dare desert her now.” “But you are so young,” she mur- mured, leaning her face on his shoulder; he could feel her breath against his cheek, His heart beat so fast he thought it would strangle him, and that moment | of rapture paid him for the suffering of i years, “So young and so ambitious ~and | there is the invention down at the mill; I am sure that is going to work well,” “Yes: but I have been to the village to-day for the last time trying to raise | even $50 to pay for the patent, and I | cannot do it. Nobody has any faith in it; they think it a boy’s scheme, and | “Oh, if I only had my money ——-"" ‘Yes, but you have not, my darli touch one penny of it No, you must go back atives, but I shall | if | \ ur 1K 5 i t had, marry. dear, Now, don't feel badly— They were both sobbing together by t her arm up around | r two tear-stained | each other like 3 4 1 fT at ct Lied ARAINSL ieved { faces nd FASHION NOTES, ~The new vellings have triple spots arranged lke a pyramid either in chenille, crocheted silk or embroidery, and tulle of this kind cin be had in white, green, yellow, pink, gray and blue. —The long #mooth leaves of the iris, the narcissus and the lily, are the fash. fon this year. They are very effec- tively combined with buds and blos- soms, of which several of the capoles were entirely composed. ~—For evening wear a new aigrette has been brought out, made of quills, which are looped into bows. Osprey coming out of the centre. They are good looking and durable, Smaller ones are made for the bodice. ~—Jot 1s more worn than ever. Jet are ready for the bonnets, and wired jet trimmings by the yard to place on brims. Large butterflies of chenille and tinsel and chenille and jet are also much used in millinery. ~There is a slight change for the is for low, flat crowns and broad brims, but the trimming in some cases i8 built up until they are nearly are worn from the face. s0 as to slant up now, for months to do 80. Sash ribbons are very wide and a velvet design of leaves so faithiully see here and there where worns have eaten them. Velvet edges are the with faille edges. —The new autumn jerseys are made before obtained, Some of SAY he Young WIE g£ Lhe young peopio she started ner- sither moved | ¢ tf has across Lhe answered Ger your blessing.’ “Put you want Ur mot n't you?" “Yes certainly; the marriage said Ralph, 1 tears from hi lonely life once more. come up stairs,’ out. in her queer, wild fash “WW hat does she mean?” ide wonderingly. “1 do not Ralph answered. “1 have not her speak words at a time in ten years,” Beckonling them to follow y fortis ii atteriy, 5 eves she lat she aug fsor~ true now,’ ward $0 many mn her, she climbed the worn old stairs up, up to the dusty garret, where broken chairs and long-idle spinning wheels made up the furniture, Down behind the big chimney crepl the daft woman, and drew out a large ] h was sly- ly hidden rolls of strong par hment, They oper i them Lhere changeful light that filtered through the time-stained window. There was $4000 in gold. of the farm lands. Not a a fabulous who were : in the The price | for- sum for bravely to the ald BTCA the young people, and defiantly married ere long, lage folks, jon was that queer | winning such | «al world these | And Ralph's invent pew saw that he in the mechs Dee 15 20 8 Les noice Oh, happy loved and love: About Coffee. To make a really good cup of coffee | considerable skill and | experience, much i fact that | many persons have for a lifetime put up with a decoction that is coffee only in name. With proper appliances it is | pot at all dificult to make the very best cup of coffee, In poiling coffee we lose all the delicate flavors contained in the | berry, and bring out all the noxious qualities and bitler oils that tend to! make consumers dyspeptic and bilious. A native of any of the countries where coffee is grown would ridicule and put away in disgust what the average i i has grown accustomed to as | bis beverage. In Brazil, Ceylon, or | Java. after roasting the coffee it is | ground to a fine powder, and instead of i boiling, very hot water 1s poured through it and filtered. This gives a | beautiful clear and pure cup of coffee, without any bitter or pungent taste. By grinding the coffee very fine double | the strength is obtained, making the | same quantity of coffee go twice as far as by the old-fashioned way. There is no waste in the coffee grounds, every available part of the coffee being used, and all the food properties and delicate flavors extracted. To prevent the fine grounds from getting into the liquid coffee a special textile fabric filter is absolutely necessary, as no perforated metal filter can be made fine enough to prevent the grounds from getting through. requiring So 80 —1"laln tulle, in ec'ors to match the silk it is draped over, is uted on hight colored evening dresses, ~Seawensd has been dyed by a special process in most delicate tints, and used for ball gowns, falling in a shower from small pearl enameled shells, ~The latest advices from Paris re- port that flowers made of velvet and silk, with foliage in autumn tints, will be used to trim velvet bonnets. ~Striped white lawn, woven to im‘. tate drawn work, 1s used for under- wear. Senator Hearst's stable wiil not return to Cantona, but will winter at 8 . Barnes bas ridden 164 win- ~=Jockey which beats all previ- ners this season, ous records. igns; others with fine gold or silver soutache, this in braids | [if ’ } Oi are decorated colors, the side by side on the outll cate patterns, Costly are exhibited, these with bands of silk arabesque and scroll handsomely trimmed Russian are also made of silk warp weight jersey cloth, with Russian sash of the same, knotted at the left side, the long peplum ends falling low on the dress skirt. distinct French jersey nearly covered passementerie in designs, waists Hgnt ming in use for tailor made gowns may be mentioned a new kind of open work embroidery, which has a particularly good effect. The ground Is embroid- ered in braid or tinsel, and a part of the pattern is then cut oul and the work is laid over cloth of a differemt color, }ine embroidery is laid over scarlet; green is relieved by glimpses of white. This trimming is highly appli eable to waistcoats and side panels, the singularly subtle and ree fined. Chain braid 18 one of the latest a thread of tinsel and silk twined so closely together as to have the effect of beads, ~The lovely indoor gowns worn by are made either in clinging princess with Greek draperies, or In directoire style, with straight sides and full back drapery of the richest bro- cade, with not more than three stripes of have immense angel sleeves of lace. Russian style, with a closely smocked silk net sleeve beneath, matching the smocked blouse and petticoat of the open gown. Black velvet gowns held by a large girdle of black cord passe menterie, have the front and long an- gel sleeves of black thread net over tint. rectoire costume are furnished with The following may shades of fawn eolor, set very high on the shoulder and laid in fine tucks to the elbow, with silver. {s chosen for the sleeves, and for the plaited guimpe mounted on a round collar of the galloon, the upper part ef point over the chest. the bodice is bordered open in a deep right side isa wide lapel, also edeed, wilh the garniture continued the waist and around it like a girdle, More galloon 1s sewn around the ve, which, slanting apart in front, shows a slightly draped and shirred tab- lier of the light fawn silk between. ~The *‘Senorita’ is a charming jacket of velvet adapted for dressy house wear by maidens and young matrons, It 1s close tting at the back, and barely reaches the waist, In front it fastens with a silver or jet clasp, and then broadly in rounding shape over a shirt waist of surah fastened all the way up with fancy buttons, Those waists are as varied as they are charm- ing. One, for instance, 1s of vivid Roman red under a *‘Senonta’ of black Lyons velvet. A second jacket of olive velvet opens over a plaited shirt waist of pink surah, striped with olive. A dark moss green jacket, this square at the corners, In front like a Russian jac and opening over a waist of al silk, silk embroidered in is very elegant, and is lined with silk to mateh, Another black velvet jacket in Spanish siyie has a shirred blouse of white surah, and still another shows a plain, full, unplaited biouse of red surah, figured with very large black polka dots. Dandana plaid skirt waists are also seen beneath vel vot jackets In bronze, olive and n.yrile green, [HORSE NOTES, —Abe Perry, the trainer, is sick as his home in Lexington. nan Antonio, Tex., is to have a permanent driving club, ~The race meeting at New Orleans will commence on November 17. — Hopedale and Tarlton were taken with bleeding at the nore at Latonia, — Frank Star has assumed the man- agement of the Arlington track at Dal- timore, ~The strings of Edward Corrigan, David Waldo snd the Chicago stable will winter at Memphis, ~The bay horse Patsy R.. by Clay Fatchen, dropped dead in the first beat of a race at Manston, Wis, recently. | Messrs, Seudder and Townsend | have graded & new half-mile trotting | track at Glentead, L. L, for training | purposes. —The chestnut gelding Brother | Dan, brother to Johnson (2.064) re- | duced his resord to 2.23) at the MMin- | nesota Slate Fair, ~There is some talk about a match | trot between W. E. Parsons, Jr.'s | brown gelding St, Louis and F. Wal | ler’s gray gelding Gabe Case, — Westchester Girl, the mare that broke a leg, is doing well, and strong hope is felt that she will recover, 80 —George Taylor, the jockey, has signed articles to ride for Captain 8. 8. next season. Captain Brown ought to have a fine stable of J year olds in 1880, crown. sinking into a wreath of fne | blooms, such as heather. —FElite. the sister of Elaine, has a t be put on Elite the first season he shall prove barren. 5 1A. pa Prospect H.. Maid, 2.244. and the ~ Trinket, 2.2 and Delle dy Kentucky have homes, California breeders in been shipped tothelr Western bo — Sheridan will tap the drum at Lex- ington, and from there he will go east to start at the Washington meeling. Caldwell, after his eastern engage- ments, will go to Nashville to start al —(eorge Hankins, of Chicago, has bought out John Campbell's interest in the Chicago Stable for $10,000. Mr. Hankins will continue to race un ler the name the Chicago Stable, and Jockey McLaughlin will continue to ride for bim —Donovan’s victory for the Middle 4 of day Oct., 10th makes his twelfth race this season, of which he has won ten. Donovan's victories with those of Ayrshire will put the Dake of Portland at the head of English winning own- — Over 600 men are at work on the new race track at Westchester, X. ¥. stable hands and jockeys should be Island, as every move Can be seen from start to finish. —1It is seldom that a horse wins the highest honors of both the flat and This has been accom- however, by the Australian horse Mains, This horse, it will be remembered, won the great Mel bourne cup of 18584 as a J year old, with 135 pounds up, beating the celebrated Com- motion and others At the recent Melbourne meeting Maina won the National Hurdle Race, three of twelve. This was a great viclory, as the horse had served a season in the stud. ~The pacers are busy building up a The following Four-year-ola gelding Arrow % Four.-yvear.old filly Lilian 2 Turee.year-oil stallion Dodd Peel Taree yepr-oid gelding Adonis Ihree.-vear-old ily Gold Leal Two year-old SLy Irma The corresponding are: records for the rollers gelding Jay-Eye-See...... ‘ Fiveyvear-oid ily Rosaline Wilkes. ...... ' Pour-vearoid gelding Jay-Eye-see Four-year-old Sil Manaaniis...oescseves os Three-year-old stallion Sabje Wikes....... Three-year-oid piv finda Rose ieee One-year-old fly Noilaing........ vanes vasa s Dilly ~The English Caesarewitch recently resulted in the success of the French mare Tenebreuse. The latter 8 a Aumont. She has played a very im- portant part in French racing, Raving won the Grand Prix de Paris in 1887, when she defeated the English colts Merry Hampton and The Baron. She also won the Poule d'Essal, which is “the French One Thousand,” the Prix Special at Deauville, and the Prix du Prince Orange, This year she g. at Paris. She is in the Cam- brid ire with 100, and the 14 pounds ty will make ber weight 123 pounds, Jack Chinn, the well-known turf- man and sporting man, stabbed J. M., Dowling, a Chicago bookmaker, at the Latonia nas been bad Dowling was because R. Tucker, the trainer horse-owner, 10 and drew a revolver on Chinn, The Executive Committee of the club ruled Chinn off ’ d floed Tucker $500 and for the balance of the against Tucker A greal many as ve that the feud will yet de futo a veritable turf vendetia. Both Chins and Dowling have plenty 4
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers