Baby Has Goue to School. The baby has gone to school; ah mel} What will the mother do, With never a call to button or pin, Or tie a little shoe? How can she keep herself busy all day, With the little “hindering thing’ away. Anvother basket to fill with lunch, Another ‘' good-by' to say, And the mother stands at the door to see Her baby march away; And turns with a sigh that is balf relief, And half a something akin to grief. She thinks of a possible future morn, When the children, one by one, Will go from their home out into the world To battle with life alone, And not even the baby be left to cheer The desolate home of that future year, She picks up garments here and there, Thrown down in careless haste; And tries to think how it would seem 1f nothing were displaced; If the house were alwaysas still as this, How could she bear the loneliness? RTI “i never saw anyiiing so splendid in my hfe,” said Eunice Alderley. She was sitting before her own cheer- ful little parlor fire, one cheek support- ed on her hand, and her eyes fixed earnestly on her husband’s face. A bright-browed, silky-haired little bru- nette, with velvet-red lips, and dimples on cither cheek; the crimson merino dress she wore was exquisitely becom- ing to her, and the tuft of scarlet gar- anium flowers above her left ear glow- ed like a spot ot flame among her ebon braids, “So you've been to call on the bride?” said Mr. Alderley, trotting the baby up and down on his knee. tle pensively; *‘it isn’t much more than a year since she was my brides- maid, mm plain white mushn and real flowers— Nanny Olcott, and nothing more—and now she lives Fifth avenue, with tao footmen in white and chocolate liveries, and her boudoir all paneied in pearl-color velvet and gold! reading about one of the enchanted palaces in the ‘Arabian Nights!” And oh, John. 1 am to go there to-IOITOW and spend the day with baby, She sends the coupe for me,” “Ah!” laughed good-humored Mr, Alderley; *‘so the omnibus is too demo- cratic for you, eh? Well, be it as you please. 1)id you see this fine husband in Of hers’ aN Mrs. Alderley answered, “Ie has happened to be out every day that 1 have called, but Nanny says his appearance is truly dist nguished.”’ oO ’ observed Jo hin, “truly distinguished,’ ”’ dryly. “Now you are getting into that sar- castic mood of yours,” pouted Eunice, “*A man must sort ofa mood,” retorted Mr, Alder- ley, “when his wife has neither eyes, thoughts, nor memorits for any one but Nanny Olcott, and the splendid match made. Nanny was a pretly girl enough, but, dear me! she had hardly allowance sony *¥ brains, ha hs she has the average girl, certainly,” Mrs. Alderley knowledge, *“but she has a manners now!” “1'm bappy to hear Mr. pow suppose cytes its 1a 3 » sg reel ey OUSEIrVed, 4 3 1 $3 ring for tea. unpretending little tea eguipage. “Nanny St. marked with the family crest,” +1 shall wish Nanny St. Eval to Jeri- cho if ber grandeur is going to make my little wite discontented,’’ Mr. Alderley broke iu somewhat impatiently, “We are not rich, sweetheart, but we owe 10 man @ penny, and we pay our way as «ego, which is more than many a | young married couple can say.” Yes, it was every word of it true, but Alderley kept thinking of how | lidiy Nanny Olcott had married. | je envious of Her pretty, shai- | fow-brained schoolmate's greater suc- cess in the lottery of life? She herself would Lave scouted the idea. John was gool, and true, and noble—she would not have exchanged. her John for Howard St, Eval a dozen times magulfied but, if John had only been a rich man! 1f John would only be a little more progressive, instead of set- thing down soeontentedly upon # salary of two thousand a year. Mr, St, Eval had made his money by “speculating” —why could got her John *‘speculate” too, as well a¥ anybody else?” Mrs. St. “Eval received her friend rapturousiy the nextday. For ib was a melancholy fact that im spite of Nanny's ‘splendid match,’ she had, as yet, very little society. ‘You won't wind Howard's cigar?’ she said, apologetically, 4s she conduct- ad Euniee int) the glittering labyrinth of the dirwing-ro0in, and then, for the first thie, Mis, A became con. scious of the presence of a coarse-look- ing msn in a satin flounced dressing- gown aud a velvet smoking-cap, who was os)» nwled ungracefully out on one of the sofus, “Happy to meet you,” drawled this stranger, as Nanny, with some embar- rassment, introduced “her husband.” 1f it had been any man but the magi- cian whose gold-tipped wand had lifted Nalisy to such a height of luxury, Mrs, Alderley would have pronounced him a vilgarsooking man; but Howard St. Eval must, of necessity, be a patrician, “Come into my boudoir, dear,” said the bride. *‘I'vesome of the sweetest dresses to show you, that Madame Fanchonnette has just sent home, And Arnold, Constable & Co. have just sent up three India shawls for me to select trom, and 1 really think I never could make a choice if you weren’t here to belp me. 1t is so hard to make up one's mind! And, oh! the set of dia monds that dear Howard has just given me~they are too sweet, Mrs. Alderiey's richest Jewelry was an exquisitely tasteful set of Florentine mosaic, reat, yet in no way showy, She recurred to them with a feeling al- most of disgust as Nanny's diamonds blazed upon her eyes. Ear<ring, brooch, necklace, ring aud bracelets—all blaz- ing with many-sided facets of reflected radiance. Eunice Alderley felt a sen. could never give her such royal jewels as these, “Aren’t they beautiful ?’’ said Nanny, complacently, “I’m to wear ‘em at Newport, Howard has bought me a Gothic cottage at Newport. Are you going anywhere this season?’ “I don’t know,” Eunice answered, And she felt a blush steal up into her temples, How could John, with his salary of two thousand a year, afford to send her to Newport, Saratoga or Long Branch? And as Nanny St. Eval rattled on, Mrs. Alderley sat, her eyes fixed on the glittering stones, and her mind vaguely pondering on what might have been, For two happy years, within a few months, she had been a wife; and until now she had never asked herself wheth- er it was not possible that she might have done better. When she went home that night the serpant of discontent and envy bad writhed its way into the Eden of her heart, “What makes you so silent, little wife?’ asked John, as he helped her to peach preserves, ‘‘Have you talked out all your talk to Nanny Olcott?” Eunice smiled, and tried to laugh it away as was her usual wont, but it was a sort of forced merriment, and John Alderley saw that something was wrong. **1 wish Mrs, St. Eval and her hus- band were In Guinea,”” he thought, after his usual impetuous fashion. “Eunice has not been the same girl since she got to be so intimate at the Fifth avenue house.” “John,” said Mrs. Alderley, abrupt- ly. one day, “why don’t you buy and sell gold and stock ang bonds? Why don’t you speculate?’ i ““Why don’t I speculate?’ slowly re- | peated honest John. *‘‘Because I have a little common sense, and a great deal of self respect.” “But wouldn’t you like to be rich?” **Not unless my money was honestly come by.’ | “Nonsense!” flashed | “Everybody does it,” “Meaning Mr. Howard St. Eval?” “Well, isn’t ho a fair example?’ “Eunice, said Mr. Alderley, grave- , “I am sometimes disposed to regret war intimaey with that man’s wife.” Eunice colored and bit her lip, “But,” cheerily resumed ber hus- band, *'I give vou credit for too much | good sense to allow yourself actually to | be warped and perverted away from | your path of duty. So give me the | baby, and we'll get rich by degrees, in- stead of risking our all, speculator fashion, upon a chance, which after all 1s one in ten thousand, as far as success iz concerned, i | Mrs. Alderley was silenced at least i for the moment, yet sbe some future time to renew | ous subject, Her usual pilgrimage Mrs, | Eval’s shrine was somewhat earlier { than usual the next morning, but, to | her amazement, she found ber friend | | among the panels of pearl velvet, out- | | lined with gold, weeping and sobbing | violently, “Dear Nanny, what is the matter?” exclaimed, ““He—he’s gone to Europe, and never | took me-e-¢!l’ sobbed Mrs. St. Eval “But he will soon be back.” “He's taken the diamonds and the | silver plate, too,’’ wailed Nanny. ‘*‘He said they would be safer in London.” “But why should he do that?’ ques. out ly §e the obnoxi- | to St. | she ww] f-0e0-1, he said I was a Eval; *‘that- asked him, and "wept Mims St, She might well ask, for at this mo- | ment the privacy of her apartment was | blue aud gilt uniform. “I thought so,” quick glance around, flown." The other bewildersd Nanny by the quick, brusque questions he asked ber | Howard with a bird has | said one, “Our Aud before nightfall the deserted | wife had taken refuge in Eunice Alder. ley’s home, penniless, degraded and ter- riled. For Howard St. Eval was no | other than Joseph Hodgson, notorious | forger, counterfeiter, and a man of | numerous aliases, i Late in the evening, when Nanny | had wept herself to sleep in their little guest chamber, Eunice came down to | where her husband sat before the fire, | and silently passed her arm around his | nec K. “Pear John,’ she whispered, “So your eyes are opened at last, Eu- don’t want to ‘speculate’ any more.’’ ed, “‘that it was to be truly proved that my husband was an honest man, Poor, innocent Nanny, what a dreadful fate is hers, while I, who repined at heart because wealth and station and rank were not mine, am spared.’ And Eumece never again found fault with the lot In life which Providence bad given her, EE —————— Hints for the Eyes. Next to sunlight the Incandescent tight gives the best illumination for reading, and all notions of the injurious effect on the eyes of the electric light is erroneous, The vast majority of people who wear glasses cap see well without them, They use them to avoid a constant strain on the eyes. The act of focaliza- tion 1s & muscular one and uses up nex- vous anergy. : The oversighted eye, in which the focus comes behind the retins, has to perform this muscular act continually. The results are headaches, irritability and nausea. Toe only remedy in such cases ia to wear glasses, For the eyes in a healthy state there is but one safe wash-—pure cold water, When the eyelids are inflamed the best JosMon is a weak solution of salt and water, Never apply poultices to the eyes or use ‘‘eye waters'' without the advice of a physician, All fall-planted trees, vines, eto, must be banked with earth or & shad- ing of strawy manure on the approach of winter to prevent heaving, Do not omit this, Long and wide lace scarfs, in cream or black, are likely to be revived the sation of envy as she aazed John coming season. EUROPEAN HEBREWS, Some of the Peculiarities of Their Time Honored Burial Customs. The Jews rigidly exclude all relatives from the chamber of a dying co-re- ligionist, Only strangers should be present when the soul leaves the body, As soon as death occurs all the vessels in the house containing water are emptied, On the continent, where Jews reside, the emptying of the water vessels in the public roadway is the nsual method of notifying that a death has occurred. The practice had its origin, we gather from the rabbinical books, in an old-world superstition that standing water in such circumstances became the abiding place of certain evil spirits whose presence in the house was prejudicial both to the dead and to the living. In the interval between death and interment the Jews lay the corpse upon the bare ground with the feet toward the door, The body fis coveted, but nothing—saving occasion. ally a little straw-——may be placed under it. Then the two big toes are tied to- gether, On Sabbaths it Is not, however, permitted to remove a body on to the floor: it would be work. But as it is sometimes necessary that this should nevertheless be done, mbbinical ingen- nity has contrived a means of accom- plishing it without violating the sanc- tity of the day. A Jaf of bread is placed upon the corpse, and the two to- gether are lifted to the cround, It is held that only the bread has been moved, and this Is permitted or the Sabbath, Two or three hours wiore the Interm- ent takes place, the cersmonial purifica- tion of the body known as the tahara takes place. It consists merely in pour- ing seven definite mesures of warm the words: “1 will pour upon you cleansing waters, and ye shall be cleansed of your uncleasliness; from all in a white cotton gowns a kittle, This atonement and the Pasover-eve cele- bration. must not take part mn the swing of it, mony. Desides the kite the enveloped in a praying sarf, or body is talith, and makes a slit of the outer in ow rarent, on the purner himself left ifn The . 3 child, the custom of the county. In the East is only torn goouple of fin. The régt must sewn up for a month, Sg the wonrning garment must be worf for a parent fully eleven months, 13e “panish and Portuguese Jews rend Reir undergar- ments as well, Except gnong the Ger. as they are jalied-—in this | the dead are performed by the memb@s of what are termed “Chevrah Kadisk,’' or Brotherhood,” an organkation formed in every orthodox cougrgation only for this purpo No hired 18nds are suffer- ed to perform for pay th last services needful in the case of a $parted COTE ligionist, The kindness in this shown to the dead is regaled as an act of the highest merit, sincefrom ils very such as recipient can England it man Jews MAE, Way is Lies never return, Actor Warren's Digonified Humility. During a talk held, & year or two with the delightful Meteran actor left us, Willam Warren, self that seemed fo me a foer plece of dignified humility than wnythiog he bad ever enacted ou the Daards, After the death of a well know: Bostonian, some years since, Mr. Waren, who had be a pall bearer at the fineral. “I learned for the first Sine that my companion in the funefl procession was to be Mr, Robert C. Vinthrop. 1 once to the bel he bears an historic nam, and has add- ed dignity to it by his ovn career. 1 am a strolling actor; the Boston public is accustomed to seeing me in all man- ner of grotesque costumed and ludicrous positions, 1 should be Wholly out of place beside Mr, Winthrop on an oc- casion like this, and e%ay one who looked on us would fed it as I do.’ Accordingly, the arrmigement was completed.” When I ashed “Did Mr. Winthrop ever know abot this circum stance?’ he said, thought fully, *I cannot say, but I suspect that he did, The next time we met in the street, he raised his hat to me with great cour- tesy, although we were ot previously acquainted, and we met, with the same greeting, several times af erward,”’ I am far from thinkingthat this piece of generous self humilid§on was need- ed, but whether it was of not, how fine the situation, how almokx Shakespear ian the wition of a subtle human propriety! Who does not like to think of these two men of similar years and dissimilar lives, both suth well known figures on the streets of Boston, and passing each other from day to day with this silent and digafed greeting, as expressive as the nous suuff box of colonial times, ¥etsurely there is something curious ang almost unde sirable in a profession ®hich can sug gest to one of its honored orna- ments such self deprecidion as this, A blacksmith, a shoemaker, would have bad no such feeling, but would have walked side by side wily the most em- inent citizen without any thought of in. conifrulty, 80 strong is the force of re- publican institutions, Can it be that, as an actor once pointed out to me, men of his vocation very rarely vote, and 30 feel themselves no pit of the political community? GENIUS RERBUFFED. How a Struggling Author's Fostatio Thankfulness Was Rewarded. A rich old man, who, having made a fortune in vulgar trade, and who, as he desired to enter soclety, wanted to be- come accomplished, advertised for a man to read to him, From among the many applicants a young man was se- lected, The old millionaire was pleased with his unassuming manners, “I want you,” he said, “Read to me, and if in the future I can aid you I will do 80.” “I want you,” he said, “Read to me, aud if in the future I ean ad you I will do 80.” The young man read to him. He read history, biography and books of travel, One day the young man sald: “Would you not like, for refresh- ment, to hear a novel?” “Yes, certainly, The cultivated man must know something of fiction. Go fetch a novel and read it to me,” The young man brought a book, sat down and began to read. At first the old man paid but little attention, but after awhile he began to 1ift his head with extreme Interest; and, (nally, tears gushed from his eyes, The young man when he left the old fellow was filled with a strange happiness. He went to his room and clasped lis hands in ecstatic thankfulness, Hs had written the book which had caused the old man to exhibit such strong emo- tion. It had fallen dead from the press, A! last his hour had come. The millionaire would bless him. He would say: ‘‘Select your publisher, and he shall bring out your books. advertise them, and they shall become great.” Would morning never come? | How the poor reader longed for day- light's glittering promise! +'Al last.” be mused, “shall my sun arise. Af last can I turn my back upon people who have scoffed at me, and with ten- der arms embrace the pure-eyed god- dess of endearing fame.” The time for the reading came. The i old man sat with his feet on a cushion. The young man entered softly. “Mr. Giles,” sald the young man, “you were pleased with the novel I | read you last night, I believe” “Yes' “Mr. Glles, do you know who that book?" “Noi and, for that matter, 1 don't | know who wrote any book.” “Mr. Giles,” said the young man, ‘with a proud swell emotion, “Il wrote that novel,” | “The deuce you did!” i “Wall, then, I reckon you'd beller move on. A man that alu’t gol no | more sense than to read his pwn book { oughtenter be encouraged. [I don’t | want you any longer.”’ wrote of i | His Monkey Saved His Life, i. An instance of the | fity of a young monkey comes from Batignolies, a suburb of Paris. A little boy (so 8a¥s a French journal), of an inhabitant of that part of the city, was playing in one of the rooms of his father’s flat with the monkey, which is a most intelligent and domesticated member of its species. The boy, ina | fit of Juvenile caprice, tied the cord of a window blind around Lis neck and pretended to hang mense gu male, ¥ h grinned and chatltered on a chair, lenly the becatne livid and began to cry, for the cord had got into a real noose around his neck. In a very short space of time the mon- } t in the situation and tried to REY WO ¢ noose with its paws, but had nstinct himself, to the of bh in 8 Simian play- boy y took undo th to give up the attempt, ped away to another room, where the | boy's grandmother was sitting, and be gan pulling at her gown, to chatter, grimace and look wistfully at the door, At first, thinking that the animal want. ed to bite her, the old lady was fright- | ened, but seeing that it was endeavor- ing which might and main to drag ber | and wen l, piloted by the monkey, to the { ing. i from his perilous position, though it was some time before he recovered from his pain and fright. Jocko, | deliverer, says the French authority for this strange narrative, received a | his splendid action, and he deserved it. EE ———————————— A Spirited American Lady. | about a “epirited American lady, { for whom a titled female friend had | undertaken the delicate mission of in- | viting for her a number of guests to {fll her house at Ascot during the | races. Among these guests were num- | bered seven male sclons of the British aristocracy. Two of these personages bebaved as gentlemen should do, and were all courtesy and aouability to their hostess, The other (ive acted as the British cad is apl to do under any circumstances, and persistently snubbed the lady under whose roof they were staying. On the return of Mrs, X we to London, she was asked who her guests bad been at Ascot, *‘I had the pleasure of entertaining two gentlemen and five men,” was her auswer, This reply got abroad, and every ons of the seven called upon her afterward to ex- press separately and Individually the hope that he had been one of the gen- tlemen. ~The racing at Waverley, N. J., » a success, «Jet 18 used In great quantities on brown, terra cotta and green, ~The race for the Great Tom stakes at the Lincoln autumn mesting, Eng- land, on Wedn « Ost, 3st, was won by W. Younger's 5-year-old chest- nut horse Tyrone, Prince Soltykofl’s S.year-old chestnut filly Love-in-ldie- ness was second and John Dawron’s 6-year old bay gelding GCheeawich third, Thora Were ten Siartera, Tw betting was 3 wo Tyrone, to 1 against Love-in-Idleness, and 3 to 1 against Greenwich, «The historic island of Incholm, in has recently been —— FASHION NOTES. ~Sixteen to twenty are the favorite widths of ribbon for bonnet strings. — Large butterfly bows for bonnets and hats are made of sash ribbons, ~—Sulphurinoe Is a new red of very glowing tone, as its name would indi. cale. -R1ibbons are striped in three tones, sometimes with a narrow satin stripe separating the shades. Two and three toned effects are very popular in millinery, especially in green, terra cotta and brown, ~The newest watered silks have odd effects produced by wavy blotches or ovals, the faintest shade darker in the wialer-line than in the ground, ~The coat-slesve, plain and straight, 18 now worn with the tailor costume only; otherwise all slesves are full, plaited or gathered, puffed out in gome way or other. ~Coat basques, with square side pockets low in the hips, are being made by fashionable modistes for demi- tollet wear. They are completed by a of point applique or Venetian lace, ar- ranged with easy grace from the neck to the belt in Louis Quatorze fashion, each turn of the lace in and out, until it terminates in & point at the waist. These stylish coat basques also appear among elegant dinner costumes, and broche fabrics in brilliant color combi- nations, | princesse back, demi-trained, There XIV coa gown parts in front from i | marvelously beautiful design, the pat. | terns outlined with gold threads. The | gown is brought together at the belt | white enamel set with pearls. { loose sleeves of the brocade lined wilh { gold colored sllk open over a second | pair of lace ones, matching the skirt, | There 18 a velvet collar dotted with | pear! and gold beads, and a barrow vand of the same, into which the lace sleeves are gathered, -~Tulles for ball gowns have sprigs of the same tone as the tulle itself, worked in tambour, and also the same triple spots, as well as beads, only larger, as are used for veils Strips of moire ribbon. tamboured at been introduced oun tulle in irregular points, intended to border the hem of the dress, White and cream on grounds to match, as well as with col- { oredd ribbons, pines in ing, as though cut from a cashmere shawl, have also been applique on to | tulle. Grecian tulle —or, as they call it in Pans, cashmere tulle-—is quite a new idea, viz., coarse, soft tulle with enormous meshes: and there is no doubt tual it will be greatly used as the season for winter gayely comes on. it is made in black and colors, and in France sometimes In two colorings; but English people are not likely to adopt that plan quickly. — It will be rather dificult to adopt last year’s dresses to the present fash- And first, dresses are DOw worn very much longer. The skiit is no longer made to show the feet In front, or ground all round, and dressy tollets will have a short, square train, This was to be foreseen, for plain skirts can- not possibly be worn short, One does pot wish to look Like a milkmaid, with a plain round skirt showing the ankles, If we are to wear dresses unadorned by draperies and turbelows, at least Jet it have the dignity of the heavy trail- plush and opening In front over a skirt of slik or satin, —=1iress for the little folks is becom- their slaborate gowns. Nothing could passed around, knotted at one side and fell over ihe skirt in long loops and ends. The body was in loose jacket shape and trimmed with loops and bands of velvet ribbon. The sleeves were plain to the shoulder seems and divided into long points over full sleeves of silk. The upper portions of the sleeves and jacket body was of velvet, A frock for a miss was of velvet and camel’s hair, Plain skirts, with long draperies, inside plats opening over a velvet panel. Plain body with long V shaped vest of velvet. Folds of the ma- terial from shoulder seaws to bodice point. Plain sleeves with velvet cuffs, Knot of velvet ribbon on the shoulder. Another frock for a miss was of milk shoulder to belt. The sieeves we eo un below the elbows, and very full, shirred puffs, A ribbon belt en was finished cuffs were ist 5 Hin HORSE NOTES, ons —The English thoroughbred stallion Vagabond arrived in Philadelphia on Thursday, Nov. 1st, ~The Washington races on Novem- ber 24, were won by Tellle Doe, Bron- zomarte, Badge, Pasha and Herecules, ~The Thanksgiving day races at the Gentlemen’s Driving Park, Baltimore, promises to be very successful, ~The bay mare Fanny Cope, 2.28} by Climax, died on October 12 at the McKinney Stock Farm, Janesville Wis, —At Ban Diego, Cal., on October 25th, the horse Gladstone won a race in half-mile heats, each of which was run in 48} seconds, —Addrew Thompson, the expert colored trainer, has been engaged to handle a division of Dwyer Brothers’ racing stable next season. —A trotting track is being bulit near Liverpool. A meeting will be held in the spring, al which American trotters in Europe will compete, —Viking, the celebrated $15,000 recently in 2.191. Lady Wilkins paced in 2.154 on the same track. —At Cleveland, Ohio, recently the wearing himself out in scoring, made an 1 Jae The winners at the three races at ng, C. H, 8, and J, Wilson's gelding, Harry W. ~General W. T. Withers, of Falr- lawn Farm, Kentucky, has purchased from Dell Barker, of Missouri, the bay ~Stamboul has made the fastest stallion record on the Pacific coast. He started at Bay District Park, San Francisco, on October 24, to lower his time of 2.174, and made a record of 33%, 1.07, 1.41, 2.144%. ~The race track at Waverly, N. J., has been leased for four months by the Union Jockey Club, of Elizabeth, which expects to give running races. in each week at $100 a day. ~The 2-year-old record was reduced to 2.18 Oct, 27¢h, by the filly Sunol at Bay District Park. The first quarter was done in 35a. , the second quarter in 3543, the third quarter in 344s, and the —At the Lincoln autumn meeting, London, the race for the Great Tom stakes was won by Mr. W. Younger’s five-year-old chnstnut horse Tyrone. love in ldieness was second, and Greenwich third, There were ten starters —HHome Rule has been the most suc- cessful performer turned out of the Canadian stable this season. He has pow a faster record than any 2-year- old colt ever bred in New Yok Stale, and promises to be a magnificent year-old. ~—Three trotting races were decided at the Belmont track recently. The winners were Dr. A. A. Cavin’s Dock, George McAleer’s Charley and >. J. Emory’s Happy Russell, Charles Mec- Caffrey’s mare Flelen M. trotiel an ex- = oe —At the recent meeting of the Northwestern Association of Tretling ficrs: Breeders, at Washingwon Park, Chicago, President John L. Mitchell took firm ground against awarding beats to horses which made resting breaks in them, ~The 4-year-old bay mare Sulsun, by Electioneer, out of Susie, 2.264, by George M. Patchen, Jr., second dam Santa Clara, by Owen Dale, son of thoroughbred Belmont, is in the stable of Turner, and will be trotted next year. She has a record of 2.314, but has trotted a trial in 2.23}. ~The largest sale of trotters to one man was made in October by the R. Allen, of Fourteen head of colts and fillies from 5 year olds to yearlings —The dam ef Geneva 8,, the mare that “Knap’’ McCarthy has won so much money with this year, produced Clay, 2.18, C. F. Clay got his record at St. Louis two years ago in a race that was eventually won by Palo Alto. ~{(3reat trotiers are generally great roadsters, It is very much regretted that some great trotters are very mean brutes and it only for track service. The skill of the breeder is gradually changing all this, and the best of dis- positions and staying qualities, to- more and more sought to be com- bined. —Al the Nashville Race Meet! cently the race horse Dyer won handicap race of $335 in the of 1.464, for SuMtatice of
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers