FREELAND TRIBUNE.
PUBLISHED EVERY
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THOS. A. BUCKLEY,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
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FREELAND, SEPTEMBER 12, 1805.
"If the enthusiastic meeting of the
Democratic county committee, which
was held a few days ago, is to be taken
as evidence, then the majority for the
ticket in the county ought to be a sweep
ing one," says the Wilkesbarre Newsdeal
er. "From all reports received by Chair
man McGahren, and from the tone of
the adresses, the feeling throughout the
county is of the heartiest kind. No dis
sensions in the party ranks are to be
found anywhere. The candidates of the
Republican party must have had a cold
chill creep down there back when they
read the proceedings of the meeting
and the cordial feeling that, dominates."
The late Daniel Coxe, of Luzerne
county, whose tragic death was record
ed a few days ago, was buried Monday
witli honors becoming the memory of a
respected citizen. Mr. Coxe had not
reached his thirtieth year at the time of
death, but he had displayed a sturdy
and progressive character which indicat
ed a life of unusual usefulness. Hi? was
fast becoming the substantial successor
of his late uncle, Eckley B. Coxe, in the
active affairs of the section in which lie
lived. Ho was a practical man. whose
purpose was to do the right thing in the
right way, and in the midst of active en
terprise and large undertaking lie gave
much of his thought and time and means
to the best philanthropic purposes. His
untimely death will be felt in the daily
lives of a very large number of people in
the southern portion of Luzeno county.
—Phila. Pre*#.
Democratic success in Luzeno county
this fall is becoming more of a certainty
daily. The welcomes tendered Mr.
Maloy and his colleagues on the ticket
wherever they go make this fact ap
parent to every person who takes any
interest in county politics. The ticket
could hardly be strengthened, from a
geographical point of view, and it is
equally well balanced in the other
respects that go to constitute a winning
combination. Comparisons are, of course,
odious, hut in this particular instance
Democrats can compare their prospects
with the Republicans without fear, and
the difference between the outlook now
and six months ago justifies Democrats
in laying claim to victory next Novem
ber. Steady, earnest and careful work
for tiie next six weeks will, with a full
vote on November 5, land old Luzerne
back in the column of Democracy once
more.
After securing a seat for six years to
come in the senate of the United States,
Hon. Stephen B. El kins, of West Vir
ginia, lias also become a champion of
political reform. lie, deeply deplores
the corrupting influence of money in
elections, and insists that the great and
growing evil should be suppressed. This
causes Editor Singerlv, of the Philadel
phia Record , to publish the following
little story, which is appropriate and
timely. " 'My dear children,' said an
ancient rat, '1 have resolved to renounce
the sins of this world and devote my life
to tiie austere practice of the cardinal
virtues. Be, virtuous and you also will
be happy.' Wiping his eyes with his
venerable tail the ancient rodent with
drew. Some of his progeny, more suspi
cious than the rest, sought the cause of
this sudden conversion, and soon dis
covered that the sagacious rat had
ensconced himself in a huge Goshen
cheese."
There are a few Republican news
papers which are occasionally sane upon
some subjects, hut not one that coin en
this way can be depended upon to retain
its equilibrium when tin- editor gets to
work to write about Cleveland's chances
for a third term. Every one of the
group on our exchange list spits blue
fire whenever the question Is mentioned,
and a torrent of abuse is poured at the
president in the style, which Republicans
only have the insolence to speak of the
chief magistrate. If the president, or
some one authorized by him. hud an
nounced his candidacy, there might be
a plausible excuse for the exhibition of
Republican vituperation. Nothing, how
ever. has been said by Cleveland that
gives his enemies grounds to base their
fears that he would be guilty of such
political avarice as Grant, yet tliey keep
up a warfare against, this phantom that
they have erected in their minds, to the
disgust of every American citizen. Dogs
that bay at the moon have something to
bark at, but the Republican editors who
fret and fume at this third-term bugaboo
can show no cause for their idiocy.
"I say, Blossom, how do you pronounce
c-a-S'l-o-r-i-ii?" "Why cuntoria of couse;
how else could it be?" Well, the doctors
prounce it hfirmletts."'
Custom-made goods at ready-made
prices. Ready-made goods equal to cus
tom work at Refowich's, Freeland. i
AT A "ROUND-UP."
Scones Amonff the Mountain
Ranches of the West.
Hamlin Garland Writes of "the Cattle on
a Thousand Hills"— I The Hard Hut
Happy Life of a West
ern .Cowboy.
COPYRIGHT, IHOS
T Cripple Creek
mining' camp I
heard of a round
vilmV lI P over on Wil-
WWIInI son cree k nn( *
saddling a horse
I "hit the
as they say on
£ Leaving the
camp, I descend-
V ed rapidly along
a fine trail running among aspens and
scattered pines with hills on each side
of the road. The gulch became a can
yon with beautiful deep red cliffs ris
ing perpendicularly on either side.
At an altitude of about eight thou
sand feet I came out upon the floor of
a grassy valley with crested buttes
standing about like fortresses. The
lower iiills were delicately modeled
with curves delicious as the checks of
peaches, llehind me the Pike's Peak
range lifted to the sky, which was gray
with rain.
I passed by scattered ranches, deso
late and squalid, among the splendid
hills. Bedraggled women showed their
worn faces at the windows and half
wild children peered from the doors.
At seven thousand feet I came upon
a finer, wider basin, which was speck
led with cattle. Here my guide had a
cabin, and I staj*ed all night with him
and his partner.
The cattle were "range cattle," as
they are called, und were wild and
fierce-looking, especially the bulls, —
great lithe tiger-bodied fellows with
white heads and wide horns. They are
a cross between Hereford cattle and
Texas broad-horns. I saw one or two
of the few remaining pure broad-horns.
They ran with long springing action,
and mounted the hills with the ease of
deer.
I slept that night in the midst of
coyotes and wild cattle. All night,
"TBIP HIM, BOB."
whenever I awoke I could hear the
bawl of restless bulls, the bleat of
calves and the call of the dams.
The next morning I took the trail
alone, with a little diagram on paper
to guide me. As I went out to get my
horse, the cattle began to snuff and to
bellow, and galloped after me. One
immense bull seemed particularly out
of sorts with men. These cattle on the
range, (as I knew), are not accustomed
to seeing men on foot. I had a heavy
fence between me and the bull, for
which I was grateful. My horse un
fortunately was on the same side of the
fence as the bull. I took a big rock in
one hand and my bridle in the other
and climbed the fence. The bull
stopped to paw the sod, and I leaped
the fence and slipped the bridle on my
horse and rode through the herd, leav
ing them wondering. They scurried
"A YOUNG DARE-DEVIL."
out of the way of the horse. Their
curiosity about tho man disappears
when he sits on a horse, the six legged
animal they know; the two legged alli
um I they suspect and hate.
I climbed painfully up a slippery trail
in a heavy rain, crosse.d a high park
and plunged down a trail in a canyon
which turned out to be a very rocky
trail. It was hardly more than a cattle
trail and in places I had to lie flat on
1113' horse to go under the dripping
trees.
It was very steep and blind iu places,
and descended a thousand feet in a
short distance. A little stream singing
along uttered the only sound. All else
wa i perfectly silent. Overhead the sky
wa i gray and the canj'on's sides were
lib ' walls of jagged masonry.
As I entered Wilson Creek valley I
came upon news of the round-up. It
a. :dy "four miles down." I began
> hope. I rode four miles. It was
out. r.vo miles down." I rodo two
it was just "across the creek." I
! t!creek and heard the wild
.: . of the cattle I rounded a
curve in the road and came upon the
"bunch" being held and worked by a
score of agile horsemen.
Five or six riders were cutting out
cattle which were to be left on that
range and also those to be branded.
These separate bunches were being
held by other riders. I rode up and
became at once part of the "outfit."
The riders were mainly young and
were the sons and hired men of the
ranchers.
The outfit consisted of three covered
wagons, four tents, eighty saddle
horses, three cooks and about twenty
riders. There was in command a "cow
boss," or captain of the round-up, who
took me in charge and showed me every
possible courtesy.
The bunch was on one side of the
creek and the corral on the other, and
the cows and calves to be branded
were separated and driven into the cor
"nigut."
ral, where two expert "ropers" were at
work roping the unbranded calves and
dragging them toward the fire.
The corral was a high, strong fence,
constructed of pine logs set between
stakes. All around the speckled hills
rose, the cattle bellowed and moaned,
the calves bleated, the ropers uttered
wild cries.
I went to the fence and peered over.
One of the ropers was just noosing a
beautiful calf. By a deft fling he
caught it by the hind legs, the horse
swung about quickly and the angry
calf was dragged across the j*ard. A
stalwart young herder seized it
by the left Bble and threw It to the
ground. The herder called "Open Box,"
which was the brand to which the calf
belonged. From a smoking fire near
by a man brought a rudely-shaped
branding tool ami pressed it upon
the calf's palpi tuting, glossy side.
Smoke arose; the poor beast gave a
wild outcry every time the cruel iron
scarred his hide. It made me shudder
with sympathy. The smell of burning
flesh sickened me and the unconscious
brutality of the stalwart men disgusted
me, yet there was a powerful fascina
tion in watching these expert and pow
erful men and in seeing the wonderful
work of the horses. After the poor
brute was thrown the horses set back
upon the rope and held it taut until the
signal came for release.
Some of the older calves gave the
men a hard wrestle. They leaped and
bellowed, the men shouted: "Trip him,
Bob," "I'll bet on the calf," and other
jocular remarks.
The struggle with the calves minded
me of the pride men took iu holding a
pig at pig-killing time, in lowa, in fron
tier days.
It was unrelievedly cruel to see the
fawn-like calves dragged to the hot
iron, but when the men attacked a
tliree-year-old steer the struggle grew
dramatic. One roper threw the noose
over the horns, and while the bellow
ing creature leaped in the air the sec
ond man caught the hind feet. A
swift turn about the pommel, a
touch on the rein, and the great brute
was helpless. A sharp turn of one
horse and the steer was brought to the
ground in a quivering heap. It all
looked easy because it all went on so
quietly, but it takes skill to handle
twelve hundred pounds of beef when it
is alive.
After the calves sprang up they ran
a little sidewise, as if afraid the burn
ing scars might touch something. I
asked the boss whether some other
mode of marking might not be used.
"We've tried to And some way," he
replied, "but it don't seem like there is
there is any other way. You see, when
you've got so many brands you can't
earmark, and any paint on the hair
wears off, and anything tied on
woulc) brush off or get stole."
"flow often do you hold these round
ups?"
"Twice a year. In the spring and
fall. In the spring we round up to
brand the calves while they're with the
cows, and in the fall to separate beef
cattle and also to brand any calves
missed in the spring round-up."
"I suppose these are all volunteer
riders—like an old-fashioned huskin*
bee."
He smiled. "Yes. That's it exactly.
Each man is expected to do his share.
Each man drives the cattle in his range
no matter whose they are, and then we
cut out the cattle that belong on the
range where the round-up is and take
the others into their own range."
"now long- does the spring round-up
last?"
"We've been out since the first week
of June. We'll be out till August 7
probably. The fall round-up isn't
quite so long."
The branding was soon over and
then the camp began to move. The
next round-up lay over a formidable
ridge and as I rode behind the troupe
with the boss, I saw a characteristic
scene. Toiling up the terrible grade,
one horse on the cook's wagon gave
out, and four of the cowboys hitched
their lariats to the pole and jerked the
wagon up the gulch "like a bat out o'
hell," as one man graphically put it.
In this way do these men dominate all
conditions.
As we rose snow-covered moun
tains came iuto view again, and far to
the northwest Pike's Peak rose like a
pink moon with silver bands. All
about were tumbled granite ridges and
glorious grassy swells.
Just at sunset we wound down into a
wide deliciously green valley where no
mark of man was set, save in the trail.
In the center of the basin a drove of
cattle was feeding. Beyond, swift rid
ers were pushing before them the herd
of saddle horses. Below, out of a deep
defile a platoon of other riders was
moving to meet us. It was all beauti
ful, unworn, impressive.
The horsemen drew up under a row
of cottonwood trees and waited our
approach. The wagon stopped amid
shouts. The cook tumbled out. The
horsemen llung saddles from tired
ponies. Others, with ready lariats, gal
loped away for logs of dry wood. Ham
mers were heard driving hut stakes.
The tents rose, the stove clattered into
place, and in ten minutes wattr was on
the fire for coffee.
The horse wrangler and his detail
rounded in the horses and disappeared
with whoop and whistle over the hill
upon a mesa. It had in it the move
ment, the activity and orderliness of a
cavalry camp.
Eating was no delicate business with
these centaurs. It had the certainty and
savagery of a farm threshing crew.
There were no tables and no frills like
caps or butter knives. Some ate stand
ing, others sat on rolls of bedding.
Every man helped himself.
They were rough, iron-sided fellows
—mainly Missourians, and mostly less
thnn thirty }'ears of age. They wore
rough business overalls and colored
shirts—quite generally gray, with dirt
and sweat. Their boots were short and
very higli-heeled, and their wide hats
and "slickers" were the only uniform
articles of dress. Revolvers, bearskin
loggings and cartridge belts have been
discarded, as they were considered an
affectation.
As night fell the men built a great
bonfire and, surrounding it, sang and
boasted and told stiff yarns and ex
ploded in obscenity till time to turn in.
Then they packed into the tent like
sardine and became quiet in sleep—
they were quiet at no other time in the
day.
As we were eating breakfast tjhe
next morning, everybody feeling damp
and stiff in the joints, there came the
dull throbbing of hoofs and down the
valley the horse wrangler came, shout
ing: "Horses." Before him the troop
was rushing like a wild herd.
Others took up the cry: "Horses! Get
your bridles."
The wrangTer rounded the drove to
ward the tents whence issued the
riders, lariat in hand. The horses are
all broncho grades, small, alert, flat
limbed, wild-eyed and tricky. They
have to be caught with the rope each
day. The men surround them, herding
them into a compact squad. The riders
advanced into the herd one by one,
with coiled ropes ready, and noosed
and pulled out their best horses, for
the ride was to be hard.
One man tried three times for a wick
ed-looking buckskin broncho. The men
jeered him, but he noosed him at last
and drew him out with wild eyes rolling.
The saddles went on meanwhile, the
horses wincing at the cinch. At last
all were secured, the riders swung in
to the saddle and dashed away with
that singular, swift gliding, sidewise
gallop so characteristic of these men
and their ponies.
These hardy horses and their power
ful and reckless men are a product of
these hills as truly as the cattle. It is
not a lonely life —it does not appear to
be a very high sort of civilization—it
will give way to civilization—it makes
men hard and coarse, and yet it carries
it with something fine aud wholesome.
It has retreated from the plains to the
mountain yalleys—from the mountain
valleys it has sought final refuge on
the mountain tops themselves, where
grain and fruit will not grow. At an
altitude twice as high as the peaks of
the Alleghauies, these cattlemen have
fixed their ranges. Whether the settler
or the miner will dislodge him from
these rigorous and rugged altitudes, re
mains to be soen. HAMLIN GARLAND.
To Supplant Tin Cans.
Cans made of paper pulp are now be
ing introduced to take the place of tin
cans for containing all kinds of pre
served products, says the New York
Sun. The occasional cases of poison
ing from canned goods are due to the
contents becoming tainted through the
cans not being air-tight. Many mil
lions of tin cans arc used annually I>3'
canned goods factories in this country,
and such cases of injury from tainted
goods are comparatively rare; but be
cause it is possible, through slight de
fects in the solder or minute breaks in
the cans, for such danger to result, the
canners havo been looking for a satis
factory substitute for tin. It is be
lieved that this has at last been found
in the paper pulp cans. They arc oil
proof us well as waterproof, will not
expand or contract, and will stand as
much rough usage in shipment as tin
cans, and perhaps more.
A Victim of ('lrcuiMHtuiiccs.
Mrs. Jones —lt is strange that r
strong man like you cannot get work.
The Trainp Well, yer see, mum,
people want references from me last
employer, an' he's been dead twenty
years.—Puck.
A TIIRIPPENNY TOKEN.
BY THOMAS WHARTON.
/ IIE custom of
1 L splitting six-
pences or other
Cj!f nr small coins be-
tween lovers is
useless, super-
L fluous and dan
j gerous. Useless
—r because a half-
C/ sixpence does
not preserve love, or you are very
weak-minded if you need such a pre
servative; superfluous because it does
not express love—nobody will argue
about that—and dangerous—well, dan
gerous because everything useless and
superfluous is dangerous, and par
ticularly because everything senti
mental is dangerous.
It was not a sixpence that I split
with Marian, but a silver tliree-cent
piece—one of the old silver bits, with
a 111 and a big C. I found it in a
handful of change one day, one of the
early days of our acquaintance, and
though it was then a very presumptu
ous step to take I had it cut in half,
bored with two little holes and fitted
(the halves) with two little gold rings.
Then I gave one half to Marian and
when she accepted it my heart
punched me joyfully in the ribs.
Goose that I was! I believe geese are
myopic.
I affixed ray half of that tlirec-ccnt
picce to the key-ring of my watch
chain. At first I regarded it as a
veritable charm against all the evils,
cares and mortalities of this sinful
world. Later I grew more accustomed
to it, but I never quite ceased to con
sider it a fetish. Marian's half dis
appeared for a time, and though morti
fied I did not dare ask after it. Later
—oh, much later—it reappeared once
more.
I could make a separate story out of
the later reappearances of that dear
little bit of silver. The first time I
saw it again it slipped down, unob
trusively and unconsciously, attached
to a thin gold bracelet, out of a soft
sleeve. I did not dare to seem to no
tice it, but I could nob manage to look
unconcerned, and all at onco there was
a blush and the bracelet was suddenly
and hastily restored to its hiding
place up the sleeve. After that the
half-threepence grew bolder; it showed
itself on a watchguard and on other
bracelets; for a time it seemed to pos
sess barometric properties and would
indicate what the weather had been
and was going to be; but at last it
finally returned to the gold bracelet
and was left to exhibit itself or no
without diffidence as chance might di
rect.
It was one day during this period
that Marian requested it to be demon
strated to her that L was still in pos
session of my half of the threepence.
I pulled it out of my pocket, and it
was then, as the little silver thing lay
in her soft white palm, that she
swore me never to part with it and to
cherish it as the one indissoluble bond
between us. I took it quite as serious
ly as she could have wished and en
tered fully into the solemn spirit of the
ceremony, for you may guess whether
I was not flushed with happiness. 1
had not believed that she set such
store by my first gift to her.
"While 3'ou wear it," she said, "I
shall alwa3 r s keep my promises to you.
But if 3'ou part with it in any way I
shall never forgive you—and I will not
not—l will not care for 3'ou as you
wish me to. Remember, I have warned
3'ou."
That is the first half of the story'.
Anybody can guess how the second
half begins. I lost that wretched, ill
fated bit of silver. How, I don't know;
nor cau it matter now. Marian begged
me to have it riveted to my key ring.
I meant to take her advice but ucg-
THERE BEFORE MY EYES LAY TIIE OB
JECT I WAS SEEKING.
lectcd the matter, until one day, on
passing a jeweler's shop, the half
threepence popped into my head. "1
will havo it riveted at once!" I said to
myself. I entered the shop well satis
fied with my diligence. My excite
ment and pallor: whon I discovered
my loss created a sensation among the
salesmen and customers. The impres
sion gained that I had been robbed of
diamonds at least, and I did not dare
to correct it. I scratched m3'sclf then
and there before them all to the verge
of impropriety, and subsequently sub
jected my office and my bedroom to a
scrutiny which would have made the
Russian police turn pale with env3*;
but might as well havo been looking
for the ten lost tribes. Do what 1
might I could not find that fatal fif
teen mills' worth of white metal, and
I do not expect that I shall ever see it
again. I may add that 1 do not wish
to.
Having at least nerved m3*self to face
my loss, what next?
There was one alleviating circum
stance —just one. Marian had gone 011
to Boston to stop with the Miles-Stand
ishes, who were giving dinners, and
after that with the Cotton-Mather
ses, who were giving dances for her.
Consequently 1 should have a respite
of at least a week before detection was
possible. During that time sho would
be most unlikely to read the lost and
found columns in the New York news
papers (oli, yes, I advertised—on prin
ciple), and I should be able to carry
out the felonious subterfuge which
immediately suggested itself to me,
with comparatively little fear of detec- '
tion.
The subterfuge was to procure an
other three-cent piece, have that cut |
in half, hang the substituted token on I
my watch chain (rivet it, this time),
and present a virtuous and undisturbed j
brow to the world.
If I were permitted I could easily
write a novel on my experiences dur
ing the next three days while I was
seeking for that threepence. lam not
permitted. All I may do is to strive to
convey the impression of haste, de
spair, constant movement, confusion
as to time and place, sense of oppres
sion, bewilderment, noise, bustle, ob
livion of identity—to dash these in
with a few strong strokes, so to speak.
1 tried all the means suggested by my
numismatic (and philatelic) counselor. I
believe I even addressed a letter to the
Philadelphia mint, which respectfuly
referred me to somebody—or some
where—else. The bridge and the ele
vated railroads I expanded into banks,
savings banks, ferry companies and
street car railways; and goodness
knows what other incorporated
metods of gathering up tho small
change of a people, their treasurers
and cashiers, did I visit modestly, dep
recatingly, anxiously, one after the
other. I don't suppose I shall be be
lieved, but there did not scein to bo in
tile city of New York one single three
cent, piece in circulation or on deposit.
I will give, simply bj' name, other
places or persons included in 1113' quest:
Newsboys,bootbacks, newsboys' homes,
apple women, river-front restaurants,
telegraph offices, soup-liouses, ckudy
I TOLD IIER EVERYTHING.
stores, drug stores, exchange brokers,
curiosity shops, pawnbrokers, dime
museums and bootlace venders. I was
everywhere unsuccessful, and finally
another numlsmatst said to me: "You
see, when people get Hold of those
coins thc3 r keep them for pocket pieces
or have tliein cut in half for tokens." I
began to believe him.
None tho less, however, shall I ever
remember with gratitude the 83'mpa
thy of the proprietors of the nickel-in
the-slot machines. They begged me to
wait. It could not bo long before a
sliver three-pence was passed for a
nickel. Alas! fate was against me. At
last Sunday came. Weary and broken
in spirit I went to church (a promise to
Marian). The collection was taken up.
I sit directly behind the venerable Ed
ward Edwards. His venerable purple
hand trembled over tho velvet-lined
plate. When the vcstrj'man moved on
to me, there before my eyes lay the ob
ject I was seeking. It was old, it was
worn and shiny, its edges were scal
loped—it was the very twin of my own.
After scrvico I visited the vestry and
effected an exchange. 1 leave the
casuistry of my action to others; but it
is a fact that gratitude for the provi
dential assistance I had received to
ward my contemplated subterfuge im
pelled ine to u thank offering, and the
heathen were spiritually richer to the
extent of 011 c dollar and niuet3*-sevcn
cents after tho exchange was com
pleted.
The next morning I took the three
pence to the jeweler's shop to be cut
iii half. I still had iny tremors, for
suppose Marrian took a faucy to com
pare the supposed halves and they did
not fit? However, this was a remote
contingency; I could even devise
means to provide against it. On tho
whole, I felt like an esoteric Buddhist
just relieved from an underground fast.
There is only one way to cut a coin
in half—from top to bottom. Mine was
the right-hand iiaif; the jeweler riveted
it on my chain alter rubbing the
edges a little to make them seem not
so freshly cut. Marian was to return
the next day—Tuesday. It had been a
narrow escape.
And now I know what 3*oll think
happened. You think that when Ma
rian returned my apprehensions were
onco more aroused by the peculiar
manner in which she questioned me on j
the subject of my half of tho three- I
pence; that her manner convinced me >
that I was not only suspected but
found out; and that, at last, after en- |
during untold agonies, I discovered
that she had lost her own half—that is
your supposition. How little you know
Marian.
lYhnt happened was this:
I wore my counterfeit pledge for
twenty-four hours with great satisfac
tion to my soul. But when my dear
girl came home and sat smiling beside
me, the depths of my baseness were
opened unto me, and 1 saw how mean
and black they were. I could not look
into her eyes and deceive her. With
out hesitating I told her everything, j
fr>ho heard me to tho end without a
word. Then she lifted her eyebrows
slightly.
"if you have lost your half," she j
said, disengaging her hand from mine, 1
"it is absurd for mo to go on wearing
ruine," and she pushed up her sleeve,!
drew off the bracelet and dropped it '
into a big Cloisonne bowl full of visit- i
ing cards.
"Jim," she went on, "did 3'ou really 1
miss me?"— Ladies' Home Journal.
lERICAIIJT WINS
Defender Defeats Valkyrie
in the First Race.
80 Kasy a Victory that Yankee Rac
ing Men Aro Confident that the
America's Cup Will Remain Here
for at Least Another Year —Lord
Dunraven Makes No Complaint.
New York, Sept. 7.—The first of the
aeries of the international yacht races
between the American champion, the
Defender, and the English competitor,
the Valkyrie, for the possession of the
America's cup, was sailed over the
New York Yacht club's course at Sandy
Ilook in a dense fog, and resulted in a
very decided victory for the Yankee.
Shortly after the yachts started, tho
Valkyrie at 12.20.40 and the Defender at
12.20.50, they were lost to sight of tho
spectators, owing to the dense fog which
pressed upon the sea, and to obtain any
idea of the relative positions of the yachts
was impossible. In fact, those who re
mained in the city knew more about the
race than those nearer the scene, because
of the numerous press tugs sent out by
the news agencies, which followed tho
racers and brought the news every few
minutes to the cable and telegraph of
fices established at various points and on
steamships anchored in the open sea. A
few seconds before 12.40 o'clock tho De
fender went about on the port tack, and
the Valkyrie speedily followed her,
slightly in the lead. Then, at 1.12
o'clock, the Valkyrie went back to the
starboard tack, heading to the northeast,
followed by the Defender, which was
still astern of the British yacht. And
then came a move that thrilled all those
who managed to catch a glimpse of it
through the mist. Lord Dun raven's
yacht attempted to pass across the De
fender's bows but did not succeed, which
showed that the American competitor
had gained at least the four seconds
which the Valkyrie had in her favor at
the start. It was at I.49o'clock that the
Valkyrie gave up the effort to cross the
Defender's bows, and half a minute later
the Defender splitta cks with her.
At 1:53 the Valkyrie came about to
follow 011 Defender's quarter. The
Yankee was now the one to try to see
what could be done in the way of cross
ing bows. The two racers stood toward
each other until the Valkj'rie, by going
about, avoided what otherwise would
have been inevitable. The Defender was
fairly in the lead and would have crossed
the Valkyrie's bow in a few seconds
more. After splitting tacks again at
1:57 o' lock, the boats stood apart until
2 o'clock sharp, when the Defender once
more came to the starboard tack, and
thus they held 011 until able to turn the
first stake. At 3 o'clock, when the turn
ing stake was fairly in view, the Yankee
was on the Englishman's weather bow
and fully a quarter of a mile in the lead.
The Defender tacked first, at 3:32, when
she took in her jib-topsail preparatory
to setting the big balloon jib in its place
for the run home. The Valkyrie also
furled and set the same sails. The
official time of the turn was: Defender,
3:30:29; Valkyrie, 3:39:52. It had taken
the Defender 3 hours, 15 minutes, 39
seconds to reach the turn and the Val
kyrie 3 minutes and 27 seconds longer.
By this time the wind had shifted to
southward, and, instead of a run home,
it was a broad reach. The Defender
steadily drew away from her rival, and
that, too, in spite of the fact that the
breeze dropped as they got inshore.
As they neared home anil it was seen
that the Defender was far in the lead the
vast throng of excursion craft of all de
scriptions made a deafening chorus of
noise with their whistles and the throngs
aboard them almost split their throats
in their endeavors to make themselves
heard above the roar of the steam. Our
boat received a royal welcome, but little
more than that accorded to the Val
kyrie wh n she, too, crossed the mark.
The official corrected time was: Defender,
4:59:55: Valkyrie, 5:08:44. The Defen
der, being allowed 29 seconds by the
Valkyrie, therefore won by 8 minutes
and 49 seconds.
A reporter of the United Press found
members of the regatta committee in
session at the New York Yacht club at
11 o'clock last night. Mr. Hyslop was
also there in conference with them. He
remained closeted with tho committee
for some, time and shortly after his de
parture th e following notice was posted
on the club's bulletin board: "At!the
request of the Earl of Dunraven and
wit h th acquiescence of Mr. Iselin the
measurer of the New York Yacht club
yesterday marked the yachts Valkyrie
and Defender at each end of the
load-water line. When this was done
at the Erie basin yesterday the meas
urer, at the request of the America's
Cup committee, verified the measure
ments taken on Friday, which were con
firmed by the measurements taken yes
terday.
NEW YORK MARKETS.
Wheat—Spot prices weak with light
trade. September, 62 5-Bc.; October, 62
3-4 c.; December, 64 3-4 c.
Corn—Spot lower with m derate de
mand No. 2 white 40 7-Bc. f. o. b.; Sep
tember, 38 7-Bc.; October, 38 l-2c.; Mav
35 7-Bc.
Oats—Spot inactive but prices are firm.
No. 2 white, 28 l-4c.: No. 3 white!
26c.; No. 2 mixed, 23 l-2c.
Pork—Spot moderately active; trade
steady. Extra prime nominal, short
clear, $12.00o$14.00; family, sl2 25a
$12.50; mess. $10.25a511.75.
Lard—Contracts j.r • dull but easier.
September, $6.25.
Butte 1 Ihe market for fancy creamery
remains moderate, but the lower grades
are slow and very irregular. Creamery,
western extras, 20c.; creamery, western
seconds to firsts, 15al81-2c.; state dairy
ha If-firkin t übs, fancy, 18 l-2c.; state
dairy, half firkin tubs, seconds to firsts
14a17c.; western imitation, seconds to
firsts, lluldc.; western dairy, firsts
12a 13c. '
Cheese—The market remains dull and
weak. State, full cream, large size
white, choice, 71-He.; large colored
fancy, 5a7 3-Bc.; state part skims, choice,
6 l-2c.; fair to prime, 3 l-2a5 l-2c.: com
mon, 2 1 4a3c.
Eggs—Receipts falling off, 15 i.o o>
being well established 011 strictly fine
northerly eggs.
Potatoes—Demand light but the tone
rather steadier, although the supplies are
ample for all needs.. Long Island rose,
in bulk, perbbl., 1.()0a51.25, and Jersey
rose, per bbl., 90a51.00.