The Bright Gide, Thére is pany a rest in the road of life 1t we only would stop to take it, And many a tons from the better land 1 the guerulous heart would wake it To the sunny soul that 1s full of hope Aud whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth, The grass is green and the flowers are righ, Though the wintry storm prevalleth, Better to hope though the clouds hang low, Add to keep the eyes stiil lifted, For the awest bine sky will soom peep Jiraugh Wien the ominous clouds are rifted Trere was never # might without a day, Or an evening without a moruing, Aud the darkest hour, as the proverb goes, 1% the hour befors the dawning, Thete is wany a gem in the path of life AV Lich we pass in our idie pleasure That is richer far than the jeweled crown, Or the miser’s boarded treasure. It may be the love of a little child, Or a mother's prayers to heaven, Or only a beggar's grateful thanks For a cup of water given. letter to weave in the web of life A bright and golden filling, And to do Ged's will with a ready heart And bauds that are swift and willing, Than 10 snap the delicate, tender threads Of our curious lives asunder, And then Llame heaven for the ends And sit and grieve and wonder, tangled EA A, MR. MULTAHNEY. Grandfather didn’t leave me his property, after all. 1 might have kuown Lie wouldn't, because he sald he would. Grandfather always did some- thing entirely different from what he set out to do. There, for instance, was the day — we had just got nicely settled in our country home—that we were all wait- ing patiently for the cow grandfather wanted to buy and brought an organ instead. Nobody could play on it. Grandfather said somebody could learn, but nobody ever did, and so we had to | try and console ourselves for the disap- pointment of reflecting what a fine ad- dition to our somewhat scanty parlor furniture the organ was, until the morning grandfather suddenly made up his mind that he needed another horse, and brought our gentle, star faced Daisy home, There were four of us in the family; grandfather, mother, the sweelesl and dearest woman that ever lived, myself, a plain, quiet girl of five-and-twenty; and my cousin Etta, just of age, but looking about 17—pretty, selfish, idle and vain, Now you're thinking 1 added the last three adjectives on account of the first one. But 1 didn’t upon my word, | 1 tried my very best to love the blue-eyed, fair haired, teasing thing when she first came among us, her father and mother both having died | during the previous year; but I couldn’t; | she was so thoroughly wrapped up In herself, and so utterly insens.ble to even si the rights of others, Grapdfatber was forever scolding and finding fault about her, and won- | dering how bis grave, honest, elder son | John came to have such a good-for- | naught daughter, and always praising | me, who was the child of his second | son William, and saying that I was the | comfort of his life, and should have the | cottage and grounds when he died, but I “must promise’’—this was the invari able conclusion—*‘to take care of Etta until she married, which is sure to be before long, as men are always taken with a pretty, doll-like face and Kitten- ish ways, and never care much for sen- sible-looking, sensibie-acting girls like you, toy dear." Of course I promised, although I hadn't the slightest idea of grand. father’s dying soon when he talked in this way. One day having started to build a ben-coop, and beginning to dig a well instead, he had a terrible chill | and died in an hour, And when his will was read the day after the funeral, I, for one, was very little surprised to Lear that all his pos- sessions, with the exception of $500 to my mother and $500 to myself, were Tiss iD left to ‘that good-for-naught,”” the daughter of his son John, And it was only a week after the | reading of the will when my cousin | Etta said to me, with a calmness and coolness somewhat astonishing in such | a baYyish looking little thing; **You must be looking for another home, Faith, I am going to marry James | Read?’—a young man grandfather had | detested — “in a short time, and we will want the whole cottage ourselves, So mother and I went up into our | rovm—a fine large square room it was, right over the porch, and held a con- sultation as to what we had better do, 1 wasn’t well enough educated to be a governess, and, besides that, mother and I couldn’t bear the thought of bLe- ing separated—we never had been since and we finally came to the conclusion that a small store was the very thing. What kind should 18 Le? was the next question, “The only thing that I think qf I said, as at all suitable is a fancy store, with a great variety of small goods, That I am sure we could man- sage, and make e ough to support us comfortably all our lives long; for of course 1 shall never marry, being so plain and sensible, as grandfather used to say, and we will never never, be parted’ and I Kissed her, and she kKiss- ad me in return, with a tender look in her gray eves (mother has the softest and tenderest gray eyes in the world): and the very next day we set about looking for the store, and in less than a week had found it; a nice new iittle place in a thriving village a few miles away from grandfather's — 1 mean Cousin Ftta's—cottage, just completed the very moining the agent sent us to look at it; The street on which it stood was the main one of the village, and before the door grew a splendid old hickory tree, which mide it less sad to part with eur oak; anddirectly opposite wus a large re eats Pe sitting well back from the road, with nlf an acre of garden about it, Weil, that small store did look pretty when mother and I put the linishin janes fe the pro of the good. 3 window, stepped out on the sidewalk to observe the general effect, It was a lovely sunshiny summer morning, and feeling singujarly lope. general effect, 1 reated myself in the and waited for my first customer. Mother went into the tiny Kitchen and began making cherry tarts, and had just ealled to me to come and see how splendid the cherries were, when the store bell rang loudly, and some one came in and shut the door with a bang. 1 went out as quickly as 1 could, and there stood a rather stout middle-aged gentleman, very red in the face, and evidently in very bad temper. “100k at that, ma'am, look at that,” said he, as I came forward, holding out his hand and directing my attention to the buttonless wristband of his shirt sleeve. “No buttons, and I buy but- tons by the gross, and, there's never one in the house. keep buttons?’ “Yes, sir.” “pl take one — and you look though you would sew it on for me.” “With pleasure,” said I, going for a needle and thread, with a smile, for it struck we as being somewhat odd that my first customer should want one shirt button, and almost demand my services as a seamstress, and it was with the greatest difficulty I resumed and Kept a demure countenance while on. “Um?” said the gentleman, aloud, as I fastened the thread; ‘nice, though not at all handsome, and would wear well I should think.” 1 iooke: up and saw nis eyes fixed upon a crimson and green rose and-bud tidy (one of mother’s prettiest patterns), and thought that if it didn't suit lnm, he must be hard to suit in the way of tidies, After the gentlemen bad said “Good- day, ma'am,’ to mother, who into the store looking as sweet as a roll and *‘thank you miss,” to me, and gone away, we had a dozen or more callers, as gave the two biggest cherry tarts; and altogether our frst day of shopkeeping was a profitable one, it was the beginning of business life, anyhow. Wea soon discovered that the joliy- faced gentleman was the owner of the comfortable-looking house across the way, Mr. Multahney by name {though that blessed mother of mine always called him Mr. Mullagatawny, after a fashion she had of mixing up names in baker, Mr. Black, “Mr. our old lawyer, whom we for twenty years, *‘AMr. stead of Mr, Paris.) His wife had died nearly two years village, dnd the household si at time had been the charge of an old nurse, who was tally incompetent to manage 80 large an establishment, “Pat you ma'am,” White,” and had known France,” in- ores * six 1} 108 Lil (p= said Mr. Ba er. “I couldn't place any one nurse. 1 would break her heart, and [in not good at breaking hearts—never was and never will be; but, to tell the ma'am, we're all at sixes and s at our house, Dless your heart, 1 Rosie and Frankie yes terday afternoon just about playing tea party ] frit LEARN, 13 sevel with the | her the day before; and what do you suppose they had for tea and milk and pudding sauce, ma'am?" “I'm sure I can’t guess, gatawny,’’ said mother 3 “Laudanum in the tea-pot, hydrale of chloral in the milk jug, and arnica in the sauce-boat! Yes, ma'am, ti had taken the bottles irom my medi- cine chest, which nurse had placed on Mr, Mull ey capture the canary which Mollie had let out of its cage.’ “The darlings!” kissing the dear little Lie child on her knee. “Certainly, ma'am,’ tahney; “but I was frightened all the more because they are darilngs, and I came nearer discharging nurse thao I ever did before, and I’ve been develish near it before, ma'am; but the young sad my mother, upturned face of stop it, I was glad to Jet her stay. And so, ma'am, the old confusion and mis- goes on, with meals so my dinner or my supper.”’ heartily,” said my dear woother, “ believe you do, ma'am. Good- evening.! said Mr. Multahney, carry- ing sleepy little Mollie away in Arms, The Multabney children most lovable children 1 ever met, Harry, the oldest, named after his father was a (rank-faced, merry-hearted boy, immensely pleased when 1 made him a gay neck-tie, or hemmed his new The second child was Lily—a bright little thing, and, like all the Luma Lillies I have ever known, brown as a berry. It was her delight to keep store, It's awful cunning to truly sell things, Miss Faith, Faith, Faithey,” was the bur- den of her song; “and when I grow up 1 mean to have a store zack'y like this, if papa will let we; or p'raps you'll take me for a partner, dear Faith papa has a partoer,”’ wish it, and papa consents,’ Then came Robbie, a lame little fel- low, with large serious brown eyes and pale wistful fuce, who had fallen from the high porch one day. Mother and I used to spend’ hour after hour telling him stories, and reading to him from his favorite fairy books, and leaching him pretty verses, which lie was very fond of reciting. We had a small lounge on purpose for him in our pleas- ant sitting-room, and when the noise at the big louse made him nervous and restless he would limp over to us, and lie down, his head on a soft little pillow 1 had made, and on which I had em- broidered hls name, and his pet kitten curled up by lis side, 11e was only six yess old, but a wise little chap for his years; and 1 used to smile, with a tear in my eye, when he said, as he often did, *'I don’t know how I ever lived before you and Auntie Welton came here. 1 was so sick, and papa had to go away every day, and Harry and Lily went to school, and the little children 2 ® tensed eo awful. I think the fairies sent vu h je—don't you?” Theo wore girls followed Robbie Rosie and Frankie (round, rosy, dim- pled wee bodies, with a great liking for mother’s tarts) and Mollie, the two- year-old baby, The shirt button I gave away on Sopening-day”’ brought us luek, for the Multahuey family bought more at our store than any other three families mn the village, never going, as some of the well-to-do people did, to the neighbor- ing city for things which we had equal- ly good and cheap, but getting every- thing they could get from mother and me. Well, life went on smoothly and hap- pily, mother growing prettier every day, and Mr, Multahney and nurse and the children in and out all the time, and before we were really aware that autumn had left us, behold, it was the day before Christmas! Mother and I had bought a large as- gsortmient of toys and candies, and had been well patronized all day, but were disappointed and surprised when evens ing eame and 9 o'clock struck and Mr, Multahney had not made his appear- ance; for the dear, romping, laughing children had coutided to us, weeks be- fore, what gifts they hoped Santa Claus would bring them; and, of course, we | had procured them all, with the excep- tion of a pony for Harry and a diamond ring for Lily, which articles were a Mittle beyond our means, apd had laid them aside to produce when the indul- gent father asked our advice on the subject, as we were sure he would, jut the clock had scarcely ceased striking when he came in. pretty dressed in Christmas greens and bright paper flowers, and we had four wax candles on the counter and two in | the window, besides the regular lamps; and 1 wore ny new gray nerino dress, with a blue bow at the other in my hair (my hair doesn’t rip- | ple and wave as much as mother’s, but it is the very same color), and mother wore her gray dress, with a handsome black lace rosette among the waves and { ripples, “Very pretty, indeed!” sald Mr, Multahuvey, going up to the stove to warm his hands a moment, and then turming his back upon it and smiling approvingly arqund, tree at our house, Mrs, Welton," he went on to say, ‘and I'd be pleased to | have you and Miss Faith come over as you can and give us the benelit of your | excellent taste, gone to bed in a few momenis— Just then the store door flew open, * ning in, ping little Hobbie limping aller i them, “Oh, papal?’ cried Laly, if you don’t come back "medls | go crazy, for we will | room where she's fixing somethin pound on the door when she lock out, and the grocer forgot the raisins and currants for the pudding, and 3 “Oh dear! oh dear!” said Mr Multa- hney, grasping his curly black hough he meant to lear i 4 {and the i ii ey We] hair as out then it it re, “I will tawny,” go with you, Mr, Mullaga- my mother, | for the poor man, as she always is for | anybody in trouble, ‘‘and do all I can { toward preparing a merry Christmas | for you,” “Thank you ma'am, | tahuey, | if anybody can bring order out of dis order, you can. I wish from the | tom of my heart you would stay U ! forever!” | Mother looked at him in mild sur. | prise, and went for her bonnet and shawl, 1 i said distressed " said Mr, Mul- bot ere “Please come too, Miss Faith, for half an hour,” said Mr. Multaliney, coaxingly; “we can come buck to the store afterward, and." “And 1 wish you'd stay forever, | broke in that darling Harry, who had { been prancing about, flourishing a | wooden sword he had taken from the { counter, bie, climbing upon the stool at. my side ! and putting bis arms about my neck. Don’t you papa?’’ With all ny heart,” said papa, Why don't she?’ asked Lily, drop- | ping the cat and looking earnestly up in her father’s face. “We all love ber | dearly—best of any body but you.” { “The Gray children have a new mamma,’ said that dreadful Harry, “and she ain't half as nice as Faith and Faith's mother,” I felt the blushes rising to my face | and spreading all over it, until I must have beon red from my chin to my forehead and away back to my ears, “My dear Faith,” said Mr. Multah- i ney, his eyes sparkling mischievously | “the children have proposed to you, | Will you accept them-—and me?’ I stood confused aud silent; for though I liked Mr, Multahney very, very much, I had never thought of him as a husband, having, in the first place, made up my mind to be an old maid, and, in the next, never having suspect. ed for an instant that he thought of me save as the daughter of my mother, she being so much more attractive. When mother returned: “Say yes, dear Fairy,” whispered | Robbie, kissing my cheek, “Say ves, Miss Faith,” shouted Harry, “and we'll have no end of fun.” y ry yes, say yea, say yes!” teased Aly. “Yes to what?" asked my mother, smilingly. “To a question I've just asked her,” answered Mr. Multahuey “whether she would be my wife." “Mr, Muliagatawny!”’ said my moth- er; and then laid her vonnet on a chair and sat down upon it, “Why, ma'am, there's nothing sur. prising about my part of the affair,” said Mr, Multahney, “A young lady sunny faced, sweet tempe devoted to hier mother, sndowed, in t, with toore virtues than any. woman I have ever met before, comes to a country place where a poor devil of a widower is struggling along with six young and from the very first day and so has the father loo. shall be honored, proud and honored, ma’am, if you will accept me for a son- in-law, and Faith for a husband,” “Mrs, Mullagatawny!” murmured my mother. “Il never thought Faith would have such a queer name as that, But, dear me’? (in a louder tone), “it isn’t hers yet, and perhaps never will be.” “Don’t say that,” said Mr. Multah- ney, with emphasis, “or I'll go and drown myself.” The children set up a howl, Robbie hanging around my neck, and Harry and Lily clinging to their father, “Ohl oh! oli! our darling papa going to drown himself! Dear, dear, dear Miss Faith, you won't let papa drown himself?’ “I won't,” said I. 3 ram AI I——— ONE OF THE FINEST. A Four-Year-Old Joins the New York Police Force and Thinks It's Fun. A street Arab found a little fellow wandering around aimlessly near Thirty-fourth street and Broadway. He took him in charge and handed him over to the sergeant of the Thirtieth street Police station, saying that he thought ‘the kid too well dressed and too young to be about the streets. ”’ When the sergeant asked the boy what ley Smith. “Where do you live?” asked the ser- geant, kindly, “Don’t know exactly; somewhere pear Central park, 1 guess. I'm Cen- tral Park Charley. Guess I am lost, ain’t 17’ the sergeant, with a laugh, your father’s name?" “Charley; same as mine, ter, I like you. here.” “Well, you're welcome, Come the back room and make yourself at home,” haired Say child into the patrol room. were some sixty big policemen there, getting ready Lo go before relieving the day force. They all shook hands with the little fellow and gave him so many pennies that the pockets of his diminutive ulster were filled. | to a red faced, smiling policeman. | “Oh, yes,” answered the other with | a grin, “it's fine.” “1 think 1'd like one of those sticks,” | said Charley. “Would they care irl took one?’ pointing to the rack of po- { lice ¢lubs, “Now, ‘re a policeman,” | one of the men, wiping hus drip face and bending over the child, marched gravely around, saluting all the he, YOu or = B ping he laughing fellows clapped their hands in approval and the child bowed low Ww one ment we ith i HE LE EREEL great dignity, Charley said he gue captain, They line with the rest, and his shoul of a man, whose knees almost came the boy's head, As the line 0 sed he'd go see the asked him Wo fal the h i} did so, his stick over i marched by the side &0 Ot {the young policeman Line with his little boots, | with the others, The men were all | Jaughing at the boy's jaunty air and Capt. Rell 1 out sharply. Sire They could not stop laughing, | however, and the captain rose from his { geat and looked sternly al {| more men, | he saw the rosy face of the Loy looking { up at him, * ay 1 slampoa calles der.” { ding bis bead at the grizzied one just { above him, “Well,” said the captain, Lreathiess- { ly, “who are you?" | " “policeman Charley, of Central | park,” said the boy knowingly, salut- | ing with his big club. “Weil, Policeman Charley, said the captain, *‘just sit up here along- side of me. 1 will detail you on special duty.” The little chap was lifted up on one of the high stools next to Lhe captain’s, | He looked over the register, pretended to read all the letters within his reach, brushed a thread from the captain’s coat, and then Uegan Industriously to scrawl all over the papers before him witha pen, He and the captain bad a friendly chat for ball an bour. Then the two dined together, and afterward the captain hunted around uniii he found a smaller club for the boy. When he was taken away the next day, all the men gave him a hearty farewell and the captain gave him a waich charm and a quarter as a reward for faithful service. Charley said when he left the station that “being policeman was fun.” speech and Silence. An old adage reads, “Speech is sil- ver: but Silence is golden!” Like other general sayings, It is not always applicable. There are times when speech is golden, and silence is shameful, For stance when the vile tongue of slander aseails the fair fame of a friend, to keep silent is base. When wrong or injustice is being done io the helpless and weak, to keep silence is cruel, When scoffers sneer and skeptics laugh at our faith, to keep silence is cownrdly. And yet there are times when silence is golden. When anger arises, and bitter words rush from the overcharged heart to the lips, then indeed should the golden seal of silence be placed upon the ton gue, And ah! how golden is silence when we are tempted to ridicule the unfortu- natel—lo be witly ut the expense of a friend,~or to be sarcastic in Sha i of the faults of those who err through ignorance! A A. A The Author's Hardest Task. Probably the mose dificult task in the construction of a story is the man- agement of conversations, 8o that the individuality of the dramatic person may not be Sopelsssly mixed. The must Keep character de- finitely betote hig mind's’ ie, 0 that as litinotly as would em FASHION NOTES, — Evening gloves should meet the sleeves, of whatever length, In some cases they reach quite to the shoulders. ~The lopg * Directolre’” couls are usually worn with plainly draped skirts, but when they reveal only the immediate front the foundation is made of Russell cord or slpaca in a corresponding color, and faced only in front with the material, — White dresses for home wear are even more fashionable than last season, only they are no longer made of vig- ogne, a rough, heavy material which does not drape at all nicely. The fab- rie in vogue is fine white cloth, soft, light and warm, which fits beautifully and 1s wonderrully becoming. —Flegant visiting dresses are made brandebourgs across and gold buttons in the middle, Others are notched out at the top and at the basque, showing a bit of gold eém- broidery or of brocaded galloon, in the Russian and Byzantine style, —TDodices are still very jaunty, with cutaway, rounding or sharp pointed fronts, shorter sides and sharp points at the buck and set one above another Collars a Ja militaire are still in high vogue, especi- ally at the back; for a front the cols lar very usually turns with a natty revers, which is braided, velvet faced or otherwise decorated to match the tnmming on other portions of the gown, —Home and evening dresses are | made with narrow skirts, very close fitting on the hips, and defining the 0g. ure as much as possible, while the long | trains of casaque and Princess dresses, gathered at the op, and without tournure or steels, except two small Tourpures are ouly | worn with walking dresses to keep oul | the short skirt, and then only small steels are used, and so as not to be de- tected. | tion about it. Russian styles are more generally admired just now than are | les modes Parisienne. The Ilussian | redingote, a long, straight garment, 18 ! much worn. ! luncheon was { broadcloth, On one side a panel was | 11fted displaying a skirt of plain green | cloth, light olive in color, beavily worked with silver braid. The s an paletot is one of the favorite wraps, also the jaunty Russian juckels | across, double-breasted, with ornamen- | tal **frogs,’” which are in high popu- larity. is the fashionable —~%0 infatuated that she hesitates to relinquish them even when the winter crispness creeps into alr, and the costumes for these same exercises cause her no less i concern than do Lhe proportionately | elaborate gowns she wears in the draw- And the girl who tak® no one of these sports has considerable designing to do, for to be the {ing room { more than | spective costume for each, {tobe of many a fashionable lady in. cludes a trim fitting riding habit of | gloth, of course, & hunting costume of dark hued corduroy, a tennis suit of | serge, with | hood, finished off with the indispen- sible castor gloves, and she even | singles out a special toilet for her early morning walk, which Is usually a | striped or small checked woolen goods, | supplemented with a jaunty Eoglish | jacket and a felt English walking hat, | Mrs, Cleveland has, by the way, stim- { ulated the feminine ambition to learn | how to shoot at a target. Rifle prac. tice was one of this much-copied lady's favorite pastimes during her au- tumn sojourn in the Adirondacks, —A more simple costume was of gray cloth and velvet. The skirt was gathered and quite plain, with just a flow of gray ribbon on one side. But the velvet jacket 18 exquisite in shape and cut, moulding the figure to per- tection, and trimmed with beautiful embroidery in gray silk and soutache. The upper part of each front is cov. ered with this embroidery, the pattern jacket rounded off under the arm. Epaulets of the same cover the upper part of the sleeves, which are of gray cloth. The velvet jacket remains shight- ly open in front over the cloth bodice, which forms a sort of vest, buttoned down the middle; it comes down in a long polut on each side, Another dress is of tan colored cloth, The back of the skirt is slightly draped ; the side and front are arranged in triple plaits, and each plait is orna- mented with a peaked pattern of black silk braiding; the bodice is plain, with tight sleeves; there is a light braided pattern on each front and at the top of the sleeves, also on the collar and on the wrists; a full rufile of black crepe lisse comes down the front of the bodice to the bottom of the waist, —A pretty home dress for a young lady is of white cloth, trimmed with dead gold brald two inches wide. The skirt is quite simple, gathered round the waist, just draped least bit in t, to break the monotony of the ht folds, There are three braid; come down from the waist on the right side, and, are continded at the foot, but only as far as the left side, not coming up gain, but fred each just beret other, one being shorter. The Yous 18 a Paysanne jucket, lined with gold colored surah. A chemisette of white surah is worn inmde the vest, but. te cloth, on euch side down the eames emo—————————_ HORSE NOTES, Yong Dance will bs backed by nig owner for the Kentucky Deby, ~The two New Orleans pool-rooms cleared about £00,000. last year. —It 18 reported that James Gold. smith will condition Lis stable of cam- paigners on the Fashion Farm track. —TRumor Las it that the real pur. chaser and the real owner of Galore, the crack English race-borse, Is Mr. Astor, —R. Tucker bas matched Btride- away against the mare Nellie for a quarter of a mile dash, $56) a side, to be decided shortly at New Orleans, ~The Northwestern Dreeders’ As sociation will hold its annual meeting for 1860 at Washington Yark, Chicago, August 20 to 24 inclusive, —J. M. Pettit will drive for A. J. Haws, of Johnstown, Pa., the com ng season. The string will econset of Decorator (2.23}) and the pacers Patsy Clinker (2.20) and Harry H. (2.22}). —Captain John B. Wilgus, 8 Pex ington (Ky.) horse breeder and backer, died recentiy from a cancer, aged 62 years, The stallion Allie West, sire of Jewett, 2.224, was owned by Mr. wit gus, —Robert Steel, of hiladelphia, pur- chased in California the stallion Ane tevolo, 2.194, 5 years old, by Elec- tioneer, dam Columbine by A. Ww. Richmond, and the horse will soon be quartered at Cedar Park Stud. Repor- ted £30,000, —Jobn plan is kept busy with his book. It will be interesting as well as useful. There are many subscribers for it, and there should be a nutnber of “second money” horses first under the wire next season since the book will how show to win, —The Executive Committee of the Driving Club of New York has decided to give a spring meeting and also to renew the Fleetwood and Morrisania stake races of $5000 each at the fall meeting. The Morrisania stake is for a 5.00 class and the Fleetwood for 2.25 class, ~*Plunger” Walton, since going into the hotel business in the East, has been valnly endeavoring to sell the last relic of his racing days, the famous | stallion, imported Richmond. The | equine is now at Captain Sam Brown's stable being used for stud purposes, | ~The Washington Park Siakes, | which closed January 15, filed well, | The Quickstep bas 175 nominations; Lakeview Handicap, 150; Dearborn Handicap, 65; Maiden Stakes B84; Boulevard, 53, Oakwood Handicap, 06, and Great Western Handicap, 54. ~—Frank Herdie, the poolseller, ar- rived in Philadelphia from Texas January 18 looking as jolly as usual, although he claims to have dropped $2500 by backing the runners at New Orleans. Frank says he left everg- thing all right on his 1100 acre ranch in the Lone Star State, ~James O'Neill, of New York, who carries on the horseshoeing shop of the late Dan Mace, makes most of the | shoes for the trotting borses that are shipped to foreign countries When Mollie Wilkes was shipped eight dozen pairs of shoes went with Ler. They | were made in Mr. O’Nelil’s shop. ~The noted stallion General Stan- ton, by Rysdyk's Hambletonian, dam {the Keefe mare, by One-eyed Ken- tucky Hunter, died on January 10 at | Thorold, Canada, from blood poison- ing. Ceneral Stanton was the sire of Fides, 2.224; Nettle T., 2.22] and | Geraldine, 2.28}, and was owned by John Batten, of Thorold, at the time | of his death. | Ip the last twelve years the get of | imp, Billlett, Messrs, Clay Wood- ford’s stallion that died in Kentucky | recently, started in 3061 races, of which they won 542 and $380 747 50. The | best of Biliet’s get were Miss Wood- { ford, Voiturno, Runnymede, Barnes, | Raceland , Sir Dixon, Belle of Runny- | mede, Burton, Elias Lawrence Belvi- dere, Bine Wing, DBinuelts, The | Lioness. Rosalind Bengal, DBaliston and Brookwood, | —The Pullman Car Company bas | been engaged to bulld a number of cars | especially adapted for the lraosporia- {tion of horses from one pant to | apother. These cars can bs atlached | to express and other fast trains, avoid- |ing the inconvenience and delay inci- | dent to freight trains pow generally ased in transporting horses, Each car will have room for sixteen horses; and will be fitted up with special regard for the comiort of the animals, ~—D. Swigert, of the Elmendorf stud, has purchased of Crooker & MeDon- ald, of New York city; on private terms, the bay colt Gaudeloupe, for merly Hayden Edwards, 4 years old, by Prince Charley, dam Nannie Day, by Gleselg, and he will breed Triangle, the dam of Champagne Charley, Salini, the dam of Salvator, and other noted mares to him, Gaudeloupe was never started, owing to an abcident, but he possessed a high private ta- tion. At 8 year old he sold for $1910, and he cost his new owner a conshiera: bie sum in excess of that amount. —A{ilepelg heads the lisi of winning sires for 1838. sixty-two of his get hav- ing started 761 times, wian 121 races (110 times second) and J (Hienelg headed the list in . . 1886 and 1884, while he was fifth in 1885 Los Angeles and Fireozl, farnishing between them the sum $71,631, the former winning thirteen races out of twenty six starts and the s»m of §30,- 075, and Firenzi thirteen races out of twenty two starts and §35.666. “3 w-.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers