Because 1 Love You,
“1 cannot bring you wealth.” she said;
1 cannot bring you fame or place
Among the noted of the race,
But I can love you.
“When trials come to test you, sweat,
1 can be sunlight to your feet;
My kiss your precfous lips shall moet,
Because I love you.
“W hon daylight dies along the west
You wil! come home to me to rest,
And 1 shall sleep upon your breast,
Because I love you.
If sickness co aes, beside your bed
1 will bend low with quiet tread,
And pray God's blessing on your head,
Because I love you,
“As dew clings to the violet,
Making the fragrant chalice wet,
So my life unto yours is set,
Because 1 love you.
.
“Only myself, my all, I bring;
But count it sweet, a precious thing
To give my life an offering,
Because 1 love you
“1 bow before no other shrine;
1f 1 go first across death's line,
I will return to claim you mine,
Because I lovo you.
MY MIDNIGHT VISITANT.
I had never been superstitious; I had
always believed that the seemingly
most supernatural occurence could be
satisfactorily’ explained by natural
phenomena if one could only make a
little rational investigation. And yet,
with all my skepticism and boasted
common sense, I was obliged to confess
that there are occasional mysterious
happenings which the keenest re-
searches of wisdom and experience fall
to explain. One midnight I fell into a
deep study on this subject, The place
was a cosy room on the lhwer floor of a
pretty country cottage,
I bad purchased the property—the
cottage and the inclosed grounds sur-
rounding it—only a few weeks before.
And for more than a year previous to
that event it had been unoccupied. It
had belonged in the past to a Mrs. Mo-
ray —a widow, who had resided there
with an only child—a lovely daughter.
The daughter, Ethel Moray, had been
my affianced wife. But in a foolish
moment we had differed about some
trifle; the little difference had been
aggravated into a painful misunder-
standing; Ethel was too proud to yield
and I was too stubborn; and so our en-
gagement was canceled and we parted
in anger and forever.
I left the little country village at
once, and started for Europe. When 1
returned from my prolonged tour, 1
learned that Ethel was no longer among
the living. Some months after my de-
parture she and her mother had left the
village. The bad started with a yacht
party for some point down the southern
coast; there had been a tempest and a
collision, and the yacht bad gone down
with all on board, Only a single sea-
man—stuuned and half drowned—bhad
been rescued to bring the story of the
doomed yacht back to the village, And
so it happened that their old residence |
had been sold, and that 1 became pos-
sessor of the home where my lost loved
one had dwelt from her childhood, until
the fatal day she joined the doomed
yacht party. It was with a mournful
satisfaction I settled myself in a place
haunted by so many bitter-sweel mem-
aor
Ories,
It is a superb little ville, and would
be a bargain at double the price. Put
some sober old couple in charge of it,
and you will have a capital resort of
your own for your summer vacations,
or for any time when you feel like
leaving Lhe city for a bit of a hunting
or fishing or a breath of country air,”
said the real estate agent from whom 1
had bought it.
I had not yet succeeded in securing
4 care-taker for the place, and in the
meantime I had restored the grounds
tc order and had refurnished the cot-
taze, ‘The room I had selected for my
own was the one which had been Ethel’s
parlor. 1 had desired to have every-
thing as pearly as possible like what it
was during the happy suminer when I
had met, wooed and jost the ouly
woman 1 had ever loved, and the only
woman I should ever live to love. With
the exception of a Darrow brass bed-
stead. cannopied with pale-blue netting,
the room looked almost precisely as it
did on that last bitter day when we
quarreled, and parted to meel again no
more. Perhaps with so much to re-
mind me of her, 1 need not have won-
dered that Ethel's presence sometimes
seemed very near me.
“Tut that wouldn’t account for the
mysterious sounds of approaching and
receding footsteps in the deep mid-
night, of whispers which seemed breath-
ed through the lonely silence, of the
touch of the lips upon my face,” I
pondered as I sat there on this partic-
ular mght. For those were the sounds
and fancies which had aroused me
from my slumber, night by night, ever
since | had occupied the cottage. 1
would awake with a start, feeling that
I was no longer alone, that something
was moving slowly and surely toward
me,
Ou each occasion I had lain quite
still. waiting breathlessly for the com-
ing of—1 knew not what, And on
each occasion | ad heard those ghostly
footsteps woving slowly and steadily up
the Lali outside, pausing for a second at
the door, then crossing the room and
pausing again beside me, Then 1
could feel the light touch of lips, a
sigh, a whisper would stir the air, and
then the footsteps would turn back
steadily and slowly, until all was once
more utter silence, But 1 had seen no
shadow shape, no phantom presence
nothing but the moonhght beaming
brightly across the space between the
door and my e
On the first night of this grind.
pary experience was so vividly im
with the belief of some person
having really entered the room that i
arose and i the fastenings of
doors and windows. But I discovered
everything precisely as I had left it on
retiring. On several successive nights
1 did the same, but always with the
same result, And still the viewless
ghost—that visitant sound--came and
went; a mystery which vexed my phil-
osophy, and one which the most per-
sistent investigation failed te penetrate,
“Must I believe that it is my lost
ing me that I am forgiven?” I asked
myself, as I sat there pondering in my
deep velvet chair, on that particular
night when the poet's suggestive lines
recurred to me,
My room was rather less than the ot-
dinary sized parlor and directly opposite
my chair was a long French glass win-
dow opening upon a narrow porch
with a high ornamental iron railing.
From the porch, a short flight of iron-
railed steps decended to a walk hedged
with tall rose-bushes, The heavy blue
plush hangings of the door-window
were drawn widely apart on either
side, and around and brilliantly-white
moon, just swinging clear of the bud-
ding tree-tops, lighted the whole apart-
ment with a radiance almost like day.
As I murmured that last question,
suddenly, without a sound of warning,
a form and face flashed against the clear
crystal of the window, The form was
clothed from throat to feet in a cling-
ing white garment; a loosened abund-
ance of hair fell like a cloud of gold
about the graceful shoulders and pallid
face. And that ghostly-white face was
the face of my Ethel; those great blue
eyes, wild and staring, were hers and
she was gazing straight upon me with
a look which stopped my heart-beats,
and seemed turning the blood in my
veins to ice.
With a cry, I sprang to my feet, and
with one stride reached the door. Dut
the apparition was gone—gone as swift-
ly and entirely as it it had been a pencil
picture on a slate brushed away by a
schoolboy’s sponge! In that second 1
did not think; consciousness was a
blank. Perhaps it was instinct; but
whatever it might be, I dasbed the
steps with a single bound, into the nar-
row walk between the roses,
Not a form in human shape was vis.
ible; there was no sound of any human
thing moving. On either side of me
stretched the smooth level lawn, green
and distinet in the clear moonlight.
There was no breeze stirring; the bud-
ding leaves above my head and the bud-
ding roses around me, were all motion-
less. I went the length of the path to
highway. As I turned to retrace my
steps, 4 woman ran purriedly into the
grounds and without noticing me.
Even in my excitement I recognized her
as a Mrs. Hastings—a lady who had
time I purchased the cottage.
rected her course toward the iron-rail-
to the entrance, she disappeared through
the open door of my room.
As I stepped quickly after the lady,
I beheld my Ethel, or her apparition,
face and
fever flame burning on each cheek.
ing’s living voice, weak with
and sharp with agony.
“What does it mean, Aunty?" she
was saying. “Every night, for nights
and nights, I have been here and whis-
pered to him that he was forgiven,
Why did he not stay when 1 came to
him just now? Why did he go away
angry?”
It was easy to understand that the
poor child was delirious, And 1 knew
by my wan, startled look as 1 sprang
she bad hidden among the roses, and
that she had slipped into the room
while I was searching through
grounds,
“My dear,” Mrs
soothingly; “you have never been here
before; you haven't been out of your
bed for weeks, You were only dream-
ing that you saw him and spoke to him,
And you must come with me, dear!—
perhaps he will call and see you in the
morning.’
I stepped across the room, put Mm.
Hastings gently aside, and took Ethel
in My arms,
poor child seemed to understand that
we had met, never again to part, and
me like an over-wearied infant,
¢41t will be well with her now,’ Kit
Mrs. Hasting murmured with the tears
raining over her cheeks,
well with us both,
Ethel had been saved from the sink.
ing yacht by the same vessel which
picked up the half-drowned seaman a
little later, jut the shock of the ter.
rible casualty and the melancholy fate
of her mother, had nearly deprived her
of reason. A prolonged illness had suc-
ceeded; aud it was months before she
had gained sufficient strength to com-
municate with her aunt, who was her
only remaining relative. Defore she
had done so, Mrs. Hastings—who of
course would have been the only heir
to the little property—had deemed best
to dispose of the cottage,
Ethel rapidly recovered ber health
and strength, and not very long after-
ward I led my fair ghost to the altar.
“And the marriage precluded the ne-
cessity of setting aside the sale gf the
cottage,” Mrs, llastings comménted,
humorously, :
{ still continued to occupy my soli
tary bachelor quarters in the house, un-
til I brought home my beloved and love.
ly bride. But from the night of our
singular reconciliation I Was never
again startled from sleep by mysterious
footsteps and ghostly whispers and the
touch of invisible lips against my own,
My wife and I occasionally discuss
the mystery.
“It is very strange,” Ethel says,
thoughtfully; ‘for every night, exacts.
ly at that time, I dreamed of coming to
you exactly as you dreamed I did—only
always in my dream dear mamma was
pot dead, and the room was still my
own little parlor.” .
“Well, my love,” I answered her, 1
think we can say of human intelligence
as has been said of other things: us
far shalt thou go and no farther. There
are certainly happenings sometimes
which the wisest reasonings and de-
ductions fail to explain, Bans mn
your fever sleep your soul ran away
from your body for a little while and
wandered across space to hold com-
munion with mine,”
avats Spirit con ug to we hightly, tell
FIXING HIS WATCH,
A Boston Reporter's Experience With
a Timekeeper.
The man 1 called upon was a slim,
blue eyed ehap, who sold daily papers
candy, cigars stationery, toys and all
sorts of knickknacks, and run a watch
and clock doetoring counter besides.
We fell to talking about the tricks of
the trade; how charges were made for
trivial derangements, and how prices
were charged, not in proportion to the
work performed, but according to how
much the watchmaker thought he
could collect. To make a long story
short, that slim, blue eyed watch tink.
er and 1 entered into a compact to test
the honesty of the watchsmiths of Bos.
ton, and I was to take my watch
around town and see what ailed it, I
paid him $1 for cleaning the interior of
the watch and then started out,
My first venture was in a little store
on Washington street, A broad should-
ered youth, with a dark face and a big
nose, took off the ulster of my pet, lift.
ed up its shirt and looked In, The
scrutiny was long and thorough.
“Your watch is very dirty,” said he,
“1 must clean it before I can repair it,”
This information was very consoling to
me for the reason that I had just paid
my money fer the cleaning, Still, I
consented, and departed with a “check”
in my hand,
In three days I called again,
done. The roller pin was broken. It
was necessary to put in a new one.
That was $1.50. The cleaning was $1,
making the total $2.50. 1 paid the
bill and went back to my blue eyed
down easter, He looked at the watch,
“What did you pay for this job?" he
asked,
“Two fifty.”
“How? What for?”
“It was dirty; that cost §1, The
roller pin was gone, A new coe Cost
£1.50 more.,”’
The man was mad If I told you
just what he said, thas would be joy
in sheol over the fact that a soul was
lost. He took out ti roller pin and
showed it to me. It ¥as an ordinary
brass pin such as you mn buy for five
cents a paper in any gore of Ioston,
The head had been file§ off, Also the
It was
me then and there. But he was a
coward, and would not fight, What
was still worse he would not give up
the money.
My friend broke the main spring this
time, It was not much of a job, and
he dill not take off over an inch, which
stopped the watch, and that was en-
ough. An old fellow at the West End
was my next victim, He knew what
alled the watch ata glance. The maln-
spring was broken. A mew one would
cost him fifty cents. It was worth fifty
cents to put it in, or $1 in all,
“0, K.” said 1.
Two days after this my friend and I
were looking over my watch, From
two or three peculiar filemarks on the
spring we knew at once that all he had
done was to shorten up the old spring
and make it serve for a new one, which
was the work of not over a minute,
That West End shop was $1 in,
By this time my adventures among
the watch men was pretty well known,
I tried my old dodges and several new
ones on perhaps half a dozen, but the
men told me the real trouble and charg-
ed me a fair price, so I had no reason
for finding fault, I had succeeded in
demonstrating that there are many
tricks played upon the uninitiated in
the watch business, and I believe that
an exposure will do good.
St mine.
The Old Lady of The Old School.
ecnssm—
We often hear of the gentleman of
the old school, of his serenity of mind,
his decorous habits and courtly man-
ners, but we do not hear as often as we
should of the lady of the old school.
And yet, take her all in all, she was a
much more attractive person, as we
get glimpses of her, than the other.
For she was, first of all, what the name
lady implies, the bread-keeper and mis-
tress of the household, The cook book
was her familiar friend, and she under-
stood all its imperfect utterances and
commands as the priests of Delphi un-
derstood their oracle,
When Dr. Kichener of Mrs, Glasse
or The American Housewife ordered
her to put in a pinch of this or a hand-
ful ot that, she did not exclaim, as
Mis. John llokesmith, nee Bella Wil-
fer, did, **Oh, you are a stupid; where
| point. But the pin yas there and it
| had cost me $1.50. I ‘thought it was a |
pretty good profit on the investment.
“Can you afford to 8Y them again?
| asked my jeweler,
“Yes; go ahead.” i
| He lifted up the habspring, hil hed |
it over the movzment and told me 10 |
tgo. I went. 1 went blundering
| a store on Tremont stre:t.
“What alls iL?" asked L
| The old man at the tesk put on his |
| eyeglass, took ont a Jair of Tweezers,
and in a second the wath was going,
“Nothing, said he,
ss 1
™
00
i *“*Notacent.” i
| “Please put the sprifg back where it
i was before,” said 1. Ee refused, and |
| I bad to go back to my old friend, who !
| hitched up the hair ring. Then I]
| went to a store near Birk square and i
| passed out the watchagin. He laugh-
| ed at it.
! *You bave got a Bud roller
| said he,
| “I know it, but a bpss pin is good
enough for me. I thik my hair spring
| is broken.” He peepef again.
“It is. You must ave the watch
with me until Saturddy, when I
have a new one.”
“What will the bill B®"
“About $2.50."
“All right,” I golaround the cor- |
| ner, saw Lim take his Jweezers and lift
| up the spring, saw lgm grin a $2.50
| apmile, and then I wentiaway. When I |
:
i
i
i
3
$43
Pin,
will |
came Saturday be wd ready for me, |
After 1 had paid the bE he said:
“Your watch was Mery dirty. I}
have cleaned it up fof you, but will
not charge you any'Bng.”’ When I
told him that 1 bad sen him lft up!
| the spring and put thd watch on the :
| rack be got mad and sgl I was a poli- |
| tician and called me other names which
I did not like. I askéd him to come
|out and fight. Ile whuld not accept. |
As he had the money, I could see noth-
| ing for me to do but mbmit,
| mitted of course, :
When I talked it ovet with my friend
| he said he would try a ew dodge and
| see how it worked. It was rather ex-|
pensive, but the cause science was at |
stake and the sacrifice was worthy of |
the object. He took ott the whole ine
ternal arrangements, s¢ I could see the |
backbone and kidneys of my watch, |
This done, he carefullfremovel one of |
the jewels from the utder side of the |
movement and put fhe works back |
again. My watch wi dead. I went i
to a smith on Harrign avenue. He
told me just what ailed my watch and
sald it would cost § for cure, All
right. Ile could go head. When i
took my watch back & my partner in
the secret 1 was inforged that the man
had put in a nice jewd as good as the
old one, and that I haf paid a fair price
for the job, :
I was not satisfied Again he re-
moved the jewel, and jgain I went out,
this time to another ian on Washing-
ton street. Here I lefrned that a jewel
was gone, and that itivould cost me $2
for a new one. He ldeked hungry, and
80 he got the job, Tyo days later I re-
turned to my friend with the watch,
He dissected the job, The piace lately
occupied by a jewel vas filled by a bit
of tin with a hole Init. The watch
was going, but in a féw weeks it would
stop, and 1 should to contract an-
other bill. I took te watch back to
the man who had male the tin jewel,
and said:
1 forgot to mentiga it, but I think
my watch is dirty. Will you clean it?”
“Yes, it is dirty," said he, with a
py look in his face, “but 1 did not
feel like doing a job which I was not
asked to perform.” [ told him to go
on and show it up He opened the
case, took out the movement, and look-
od in. When he saw that my friend
Lad replaced the jewel, he looked blank,
“What do you think of it?" I asked.
I sub!
“Think? hy, I think it is dirty.”
: ot how about that jewel you put
n
“Here it 15," sald he, pointing to thé
jewel my friend had bihoed re ine
stead of the tin, “and it is a fing ue
too.” I let out at him. If be
been of any spark :
possessed
he would have coms out
am I to get it, I should like to know?"
desired ingredient, and thus perfected
he toothsome viand for the table, The
wesses it, of “shaking hands with a
Her table linen was spot-
r
glass and silverware, gleamed in re-
splendent purity. As she sat at table,
gentleman of the oid
i surrounded by ber family,
for happi-
5 BIH
ness had its abode with her,
Under ber firm and womanly hand
her children were dutiful, her servants
respectful, and her husband, safely
and praise, But if she was mistress in
the kitchen she was queenly in the
with an ease and grace that made the
most awkward easy and graceful each,
Many a bashful young man
into animation and life, Her fine tact
left her
presence without feeling how much
wittier they were -tifan they had sup-
posed, Her dress was not
than ber purse could buy and was as
bird. Its very detail harmonized
the
dressed,
beholder was that she
Serenity shone
was
from her eyes
to her as they came 0 all, she ever en-
Such in briefest outline was the lady
of the old schivol. Nor is the patlern
She may still be met
though often in unexpected
Nor is it atall likely her image
with,
places,
A ————
Alfalfa Experiments in IHinow
Experiments have been made during
the present year at the Illinois State
University, at Champaign, on the suc.
cess of alfalfa in Illinois soll, with en-
couraging results, W. F. Johnson, of
that Institution, has just sent a small
package of alfalfa branches and roots
to the Secretary of the State Doard of
Agriculture, accompanied by a letter,
in which he says:
“Tne striking features of the plant
which are nearly two feet long, as you
soe,
fully two feet more beyond the broken
ends, The patch from which these
black-soil land, heavily set in blue
grass, It was broken last November,
sown with the alfeifa seed the last
week in April [1888], cut for the first
time July 18, for the second time Au-
gust 25, or later, and the foliage growth,
which you seo, is the third crop for the
first year. The crop was grown Wwith-
out irrigation and with little rain from
the first week in July to the same time
in September. So far as my experi
ment enables me to judge, 1 conclude
that alfalfa may be made a success in
Illinois, if, in the first place, proper
means are taken to'secure a full stand
and there is clean cultivation the first
year and liberal fertilization every sec-
ond year with potash and phosphate.”
aa wi
—Mr. C. F. Emery has sold forty-
six colts from the Forest City Farm
this season for $35,425, an average of
$770.
«The black colt Hartford, by Pea.
cock out of the dam of Globe, 2.214,
made a record of 2.30 at Buffalo, N.
X., recently.
«it 18 said that Andrew Thompson,
the expert colored trainer, bas been on-
gaged to handle a division of Dwyer
«Mayor Bowman, of v
has purchased from J. IL. Glenn, of
Clarksville, Tops, for $1500, the ine
blooded mare Kitty Wilkes, y
fang ur ROR D0
FASHION NOTES,
—Plain, velvets, armures, silk
matelasse and brocatelle are the ma-
terials employed for dressy Wraps,
either for autum or winter, and the
elegance of some of the heavier bro-
catelles and matelasses Intended for
winter cloaks surpasses that of many
seasons past,
—{ireen, especially in the gray-
green shades like reseda, sage, olive
and the new pale rush green; is a very
favorite color for visiting gowns of
velvet, silk and flne woolen goods,
both light and heavy. There are also
many stylish combinations eof green
with contrasting colors, notably pale
fawn, almond, ecru, a certain new
shade of brown and several of the red
dyes,
—Smooth faced beaver cloth In
black, gray, brown. Gobelln blue and
volcano red, compose some of the most
stylish Newmarkets worn by young
ladles. They are made up with plain
coat or bell-sleeves, or with long
pointed oversleeves, or angle sleeves,
and trimmed either with black Her-
cules braid or the beautiful (and ex-
pensive) black Persian lamb skin,
—Brocatelle and matelasse silks are
thus trimmed, and are lined with satin
in rich quiltings, and these garments,
calied doutilettes by the French manu-
facturers and importers. are so much
lighter and easier to wear than the
heavier all fur sealskin pelisse, while
of their extensive popularity.
—The shape Directoire is one of the
most becoming, and myrtle green pop-
lin one of the modern materials, The
long paletot shows a large white silk
panel embroidery green and red, the
silk, pocket and cuff with embroidery,
The little hat has a broad brim entirely
covered with velvet, so thal the crown
is only visible itself aun inch broad.
Bows of green ribbon and golden balls
for trimming.
~—A new and very becoming fichu
will be a welcome protection to many
a sensitive throat. It is made entirely
i
ruching all the way round. The double
part is rounded st the neck, and it is
continued in Jong ends falling almost
| off with white bows, This fichu can
| be carried over the arm ready for wear
{| when necessary, and therefore be cone
| part of the toilet,
— Among the natty fashions
| rious handsome art shades,
| gowns are made with bodices that
{open over piaited milk
| the cashmere bodice,
| the
shades of
| briarstitched in
1
i
!
| silk waist of vivid Roman red,
| Neapolitan violet Henrietta
| shows a blouse of soitest rosy lilac,
| with a vine embroidery in
violet tints,
| magnificent. As the London Queen
| combinations entirely novel and artis
| tie, and the fabrics of
| merits. It is only in the way of trim
| ming thal small designs are intro-
| duced.
| dress are all either an exact copy of
| tree or flower, or show purely conven-
tional patterns. Siripes are worn, and
| there are some admirable figured fab.
ries shown, but what heads the fashion
| are the richest brocades, and in look-
ing forward we may bs sure that for
| the next season Or two brocades will be
worn,
~Many of the new basques and
bodices are lengthened to cover the
| hips more deeply. The vest buttoned
lon each side to the corsage, the
| plastron, the separate waistcoat, the
plaited shoulder pleces, the demure
nun’s corsage with soft folds lapping
each other over the chest, the surplice
round waist with
| Mornings, the pointed corsage with
revers of all shapes and kinds, each
| and all are among the new or repeated
fancies of the season, It is almost
impossible to go far astray in the de-
signs of the bodice, as the variety of
models 18 now so limitiess that any
graceful style becoming to the wearer
is good form. The broad and showy
Directoire revers give the effect of
breadth, and are seen alike on the
simplest and richest gowns, The high
military collars and the deep turnover
models are equally popular,
— Among the best brocades shown
were some satin grounds in fine color-
ings showing large branches of fir trees
with the pendent fruit as you see them
in the tropics, and delicate pinks and
grays, all interwoven with white—per-
fect picture weaving, Louk XV and
X V1 reigns and the period of the Em-
pire. All have contributed their de-
signs to our day.
A good example was an interiacing
ribbon with picot edge, which left no
ground visible; and plenty of the best
woven os, hard as a board al-
most, with mignonette weaving;
brocatelle and satin hair stripes com-
bined on a ground whose tiny floral
bouquets, in natural tones slightly
faded, were thrown, such as Marie
Antoinette wore.
In the composite colorings there are
many curious amalgamations; bloe
tones into yellow, black into gray, and
into every other tone also, Shaugh
greensof imaginable hue have
preferance, Grown and red is another
favorite mixture. Persian patterns
abound, and In these deep greens and
solid dark blues display scattered
hietogiyphical figures in Persian reds
and browns, with flecks of yellow.
The arabesque patterns in broca-
telles land themselves especially to the
slixs used for trains and to some of the
more magnificent matelasses. in which
there is a choice. Such
terns recall overhanging ot
to be seen in
wn
HORSE NOTES,
—D, W. Thowas, Cyclone, O.. hat
sold to 8, Toomey, Canadover, O., the
horse Dr. Talmage, foaled 1883, by
Belmont, dam Minnie 1. by Cuyler.
~The 2 year old gray gelding, Six
Edward, by Himyar, dam La Rieve,
belonging to T. J. Clay, of Lexington,
died at the Nashville track November
2.
~The 10 year old bay gelding Hum.
bert, by Bona Fide, out of Belle of
Pawlett, by War Hulett, made a rec-
ord of 2.28} at Island Park on October
20,
~ Patron will trot at Atlanta, Geor-
gia. A two weeks meeting 1s lo be
held there in December, for runners
during the first week and trotters the
second,
—J. H, Brown & Co., purchased at
Nashville recently from the Stuart
Stable the 3 year old chestnut gelding
Stuart, by Glen Athol, dam Friday by
Lever, for $1000, .
—Delle Hamlin bas been turped in
for the season, She retires as queen of
the turf performers of 1888 wiih a rec-
ord of 2.13}, which bas been beaten
only by Guy.
—The famous oa steeplechaser
Abraham died at the Clifton track re-
cently. He was a chestnut horse by
Milesian out of Electric, and was
owned by P. Loughlin.
—The Secretary of the American
Trotting Association has issued the
by-laws and regulations as adopted at
Detroit on March 2, 1887, to which is
added the American racing ruies.
—The Montana stable,
Noah Armstrong, will winter at
Nashville track. Jt includes the
year olds Spokane, Rimim and Mec-
kie H. Spokane 1s the best of the
trio.
| Edward Rosewater, the famous
| trotter, was driven at Council Bluffs,
| Ia., recently to lower his record of
| 2.22. He lowered his record to 2.204,
| which is the best for 2 year olds in the
| world.
| One of the cheapest sales, considered
in every light, was that of the famous
stallion Alarm, foaled in 1588, by mp.
Eclipse, dam Wand, for $2050. Corri-
| gan & Long were the lucky purcha-
Bers,
| —Victor Von Bismarck 1s entitled
| to the credit of Vicjor Wilkes, 2.224,
| which makes his grand total of young
performers, with records and trials bet-
| ter than 35.00 this year, fourteen in
number,
~The New York Sporisman says:
| “Jt 1s understood that a stesplechase
longing to
the
9
-
| association is to be organized this win-
ter in Philadelphia. The new associa-
tion is to be made up chiefly of mem-
bers of the First Troop City Cav-
| alry.”
~—McKee and Traynor, of Rich-
mond, Ky., lost a valuable yearling
filly, by Red Wilkes, dam by John
Wilkes, recently. She was at a black-
smith shop being shod, when she
reared up snd fell back, breaking ber
skull
~P. P. Johnston, Lexington, Ky.,
has sold to C., Larabee, Montana, a
| suckling colt by Robert McGregor out
of Diana Patchen, Jam of Lexington,
2.244, and the produce of the mare
She is bred to Red Wilkes,
— Almont the 2 year old bay colt by
has
| next year.
age in California. He won al Sacre~
mento the California annual stake for
2 year olds, one mile, running in 1.42%,
| with 110 pounds up. At the same
| place he wou the Night Hawk stake,
one mile for all ages, in 1.42 with Sl
~The only mare tha: was applauded
at the Erdenheim stud sale was Mag-
| gie B. B.. foaled 1867 by imported Aus-
Maggie B. B.
is the dam of Iroquois, Pera Harold
| and Pamque. lroguois is the only
Leger and Prince of Whales stakes,
W. H. Forbes, of Boston, bought her
for $1100,
~E. H. Douglas and H. B. Doug-
las, of Tennessee, have divided the
| following thoroughbreds on shares:
E. H. Douglas’ share, bay yearling
(gelding), by Farandole, dam Little
Knot, by Littleton; chestnut yearling,
by Farandele, dam by Enquirer; sec-
| ond dam Clara L., by Bodnie Scotland,
and weanling bay filly, by Farandole,
dam High Nun (full sister to Arch-
bishop), by upported Highlander; bay
Sucking colt, by Tip Top, dam i igh
\ un.
—Silve: King, lately owned by Mr,
1. O. I. Genereux, of Toronto, won a
steeplechase at the races of the Coun.
try Club, Boston, on October 31. It
was a bandicap for hall-breds, over
a course of about two and a hall miles,
Silver King carried 130 pounds, and
the other starters were Vigilence, 168
pounds, and General, 1 pounds.
Vigilance refused the water jump the
first time, and Silver King beat Gen
eral two lengths,
~The rule adopted at Gutlenburg
limiting the number of horses at each
race to ten had to be abandoned alter a
few days trial, as the horsemen and
bookmakers were N
trouble really was that where there
was a number of entries in a race
the actual starters were not drawn and
jong enough before the race
came off to allow sufficient time { sat.
tle among the owners and lruiners
which horse was to win, and then get
their money on right, and so this invo-
vation on the “nights of owners™
to be wiped out.
«A, Smith McCann,
Ky., bas made the following
Wilkes colts: Dr, Jekyll, bay colt,
1887, dam by Homer;
's Bay Messenger
OQ, price
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