The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, April 24, 1888, Image 4
A >.aoue tory. ' "
We leave the wintry woods, and stand
Beside the old gray *411;
"Good"bje; Ii,Ipd clasps me hand
And lea 'ss a-t i it dhi.
T him a walk 'neath cloudy skies,
The oareless mirth of friends;
!b me, a'g pse of Paradise
That ali too surely ends.
Wny need Z, standing in my room,
Recall bls'partin| words?
Why dream of flowers and summer blooni,
And minstrelsy of birds?
I know that act a thought of me
Shall fill hib beart to night,
Yet, a. the moonbeams on the sea
O'er me he oasts a light.
His are thosunby ways of life,
The blosiom and the vino;
The thorn the struggle and the strife,
The aching heartare mine.
in his a happy gra$O and ease,
A welcome freshness dwells,
That bids me dream of highland breeze
Across the heather bells.
I built my oastle but on- sand,
I know t.soon will fall;
A gay -geb' bye, a clasping hand,
A snfle-and this is all.
A winter sunbeatn iaint and pale
That bends the snow to kises;
A winter blossom. small and frail
My hope 3s only. .this,
BRAVE JAOK.
"I'l go and try my' fortune ,witl
Uncle'Robert," said Jack. "Bess an<
Maria faied because he could not stant
girls with such fine ideas; but I won'
trouble hibn that way. The old fellov
is all right if one'only stirs him up 1i
the right way."
"My child " said the gentle Mrs
Ravmond. "' do not like to hear yoi
speak In that boyish, rude manner.
fear your uncle would have less pationc
with you than your sisters. No he doe
not intend t" forgive me, and we wil
make no furtner advances."
"Oh, yes we will, deariel" and Jack'
curly Read buried, itself in the mother'i
shoulder, coaxingly. "Do let, me tr;
to win the obstinate old-well there
th?u-to whi our honored relative to i
proper sense of his obligations towar
his only sister and her interestin)
family. How will that do, eh? Now
mother, don't shake your head so; it'
no use. Why did you give te a boy'
name and bring me tli on tops ani
marbles if ypn want me to be a rea
girl?"
"It was your father's wish, yoi
know, dear. He was so grievously die
appointed that he had no son. Bu
Jackuellne is not a boy's name," an
Mrs. Raymond shook her head smiling
ly at her wayward daughter.
"No, but Jack is; and I'm neve
called anything else," that young lad:
replied, triumphantly, with an obstin
ate little shake of the jetty curls tha
gave such piquancy to her brjght face
"If father were only here he would le
me try anything that would take th
burden from off your shoulders, and
now that he is dead, uncle must surel;
forgive you for marrying against' hi
wishes. What right had lie to hav
wishes anyhow?"
. "IHe was my onlf living relative ani
guardian," answered Mrs. Raymond
who, tas always ready to excuse lie
brother's harsh treatment.
"Well, mother, do let me go 'beari
the lion In his den, the Douglas in i
hall,' " said Jack, gayly. "You kno
we murst do something, for wve can ge
no work of any kind in 'this place
though we've trled so faithfully."
"Well, go, my dear, and I.shall pra
for your - uccess," sa,id -the gent!
mother.
Mr. Rloberti Dorani sat cowering be
side a dull, spiritless fire one brigh
morning. Hish room~ was dusty and di
ordered, though Its .furnishing wa
good and even luxurious. HIe looke'
moody and discontented, as if th
wealth that showed itself -in the hand
some surroundings brought no pleasur
to -its owner. Perhaps he was thinkin;
of the sister who had once made eui
shine in .the' now gloomy home, an(
wished that his i>ride wvould let him bei
hecr to come back and earo for him I,
Ils dreary old age.
A tap at the (leer aroused him.
"Who is It? he demanded, in suir
irise, for his servants never came un
summ~oned.
The door opened slowly and a brighi
face q>eepppui.
"It'a Jick Raymond, at your service
uncle," and in the' venturesome gir
walked and stood before him.
She wore a long ulster, closely but
toned to tihe throat, wvhere a standli
collar and a' neat black tie showec
themselves, while on the short, gloss)
-curls was a jaunty "Derby," gtfilties:
>f- any trimming save the simple mas.
culine barnd.
"Why, 'I didn't know my sister hia
a sonl" exclaimed the old gentleman,
his wrinikled face showing somethiin
very like satisfaction as he looked at th<
new corner.
"She hiasn't," said Jack, with danc
ing eye; "but it isn't my fault, I d(
my best.. I'm awfully sorry I'm not
boy, uncle, if it would please you; but
let me stay awhile and you'll see whiat
a first-class substitute I am," remnovin
her hat and bowing with easy grace,
4'But, dear mel howv dull it is here
Your Iird Wabts a good stirring up!"
And seizing the l)oker she attacked
the coals in the grate with an energ3
that seemed to, imp)ly that she would
like to treat him in the same fashion.
A bright blaze followed her vigoroui
action, dancing on' the walls and show
ing thue bright liues of pictures and fur.
niture, despite the dust that covered
them,. bringing a cheery look, too, oven
to Mr. D)oratn's grim face.
"Thuerei" saidI Jack, giving a last ap.
proving p)oke, "that's botter. Now, ii
I just open this wvindow and let in thei
sunshine, so-"' suiting the action t(
the wordl-"you'll feel as bright as e
spring noniing;".
The girl wvas like a May-dayr herself
liutt"ring around-the room as if waftex
by invisible breezes, her bright face th<
embodhnent of suanshine; and as th<i
lonely old man watched her light fingeru
bringing order out of confusion that
had reigned- so *lng, a quizzical smiki
dlawned on his face.
"For a woid-be 3boy you seem t(
know a good deal about such things,'
he remarked, dryly.'
"T[hat's the mother-part of mei "'sai(
Jack, as she "settled" the chakrs and
furniture with a touch that egly
woman has.
Tha she ameands sam dow on
foot-stol beside him, and"clasping her
knee with both hands, looked up With
smiling audacity, saying: You'd
better let me stay awhile, uncle; you'd
be a great deal more comfortable."
There was deep anxiety beneath the
merry exterior, for she know well how
vital her unclels favor was. Her mother
-was too delicate, her sisters too fine
ladies to work, and the child (she was
' not' much more, in spite of her seven
teen years) felt as though the burden of
the family rested on her shoulders.
Her uncle was very wealthy, and if
he only could be brought to forgive her
mother, what happy days they would
see!
i He had sent once for her two sisters
to spend a week at Glenside-a- step to.
.ward reconciliation which her mother
had hailed with thankful joy. But be
fore the week was out he sent them
both home, saying he couldn't stand
their fine airs; that, since his sister had
ch'osen to bring up her family to such
idle habits, he would have nothing to
do with theim.
The one longing of the old man's
heart had boon for a son to bear his
name. That hope disappointed in the
early death of his son he had gradually
grown up into the- selfish, gloomy' man
Jack found him this fair spring morn
ing.
There was something in her bright
i boyish face that fascinated him; and
i now, with a warmth that surprised
b himself, lie said: "Stay if you like,
my. child. It's a dull place within
doors; but there are flowers and sun
ishine."
It was so much kinder than Jack had
dared hope that she could have cried
L for joy.
"Oh, you dear uncle!" she said and
a kissed his wrinkled old face with an
i honest heartiness that he was quick to
feel.
9 "There, then," he said, Impatiently,
9 as if ashamed of the unwonted softness
he had shown. "Go and tell cook
you're going to stay, and that she must
t give you a room and see to your meals.
i Do not be afraid if she's cross," he add
g ed, somewhat anxiously; "she does
not like trouble or work."
S "I won'f;," said Jack, as she rah off.
B Halfi a., hour later she looked in the
i door again saying:
i "Come to lunch, Uncle Robert."
"Yes," as he started at her in amaze
i ment.
. "I know cook always brought you
t just what she liked up here because she
did not want you down stairs. There
- has been a skirmish, but it's all i'ight
now. , Come for ny sake, please."
r Mr. Doran drew his dressing-gown
r more closely around him, and followed
- Jack down into the small breakfast
t room, which she had chosen because it
was so much pleasanter than the great
t oak wainscoted dining-room.
s A most tempting lunch. was spread
10upon the round table, and flowers were
y intermingled with the dishes in profu
s sion. It was pretty to see the air with
o which she led her uncle to his place,
then took her own opposite him-to
1 satisfy the demands of her own healthy
, young appetite.
r "Did cook do all this?" Mr. Doran
asked, with some curiosity.
I "No," replied Jack, blushing. "She
s wanted to take you up some smoky
r soup, and because I said no, she
t wouldn't do anything else, so I did it
,myself, Don't you like It all?" and
sha looked anxiously at him.
y "You are not like your sisters," lhe
C) saidl, not replying to her question.
"Oh, no!"aand Jack shook her head
- somewhat dejectedly. "They are vety
t accomplished-real young ladies, 'you
- know. But, then, I can cook and
i sweep, and do things that they can't."
I "But I do not want a cook and a
a housemaid," said Mr. Doran.
- "I think you do," laughed Jack. "If
you had only tasted the soup!"
"Child!" cried Mr. Doran, suddenly
- catching at her hand, "I'm a disap
i pointsd, heart-broken old man. If you
could only love me a little-"
"I do, uncle IRobert; I do, truly!"
Ssaid Jack.
And she meant it; for her warm heart
- had gone out at oiico to the lonely old
man,'- so uinhappy In the midst of his
wealth; and she comforted him' now, in
Sthe best way she knew, with loving
words that, skeptic as lie was, lie felt
were honest and truo. A
l "I fear master be a-goin' to die; lie
wor never so gentle aforo, said cook, a
- week later.
That very night Mr. Doran Was taken
tsuddenly and violently ill. Jack heard
his groan)s, and, hastening to his assist
I ance, found him suffering intensely.
"You must go for the doctor, cook;
there's no one else to go," said Jack.
"Indeed I'll not," replied cook, de
cisively. "iIe's been none so good a
masiter to me that I should risk iniyself
in the dark for him.
"Then watch him while I go," im
plored Jack. "Do not leave him or
he'll die.''
She had been doiwn to the village
once on an errandi for her uncle, and
know she could find her way,'but it was
so different inow, at nigiit. Brave Jack
for going! B3ut how her heart fluttered
a-nd her limbs quivered with fear as
she hastened on through the starlight.
Thle way seemed interminable, but at
last the few lights which yet burned In
the village shone out close at hand, and
one part of her journey'was over.
Chiesney was one of .the most unfor
tunate villages, witih houses so pain
fully simijar that a straiiger might well
wonder how each -inhabitant knew hits
own home. Little wonder, then, that
Jack, after much uncertain pausing be
fore various doors, should at last decide
upon the wrong one.
She rapped gently, then listened. ,A
Sfootfall soundedl on the pavement, a
hand was 'on the gate, and-yes--the
steps were coming toward her, swiftly,
certainly.
She drew herself close to the side of
the porch, almost fainting with terror,
when a hand outstretched touched her
arm, and a voice exclaimed: . "Who
are you? Speak! Who comes so late
to my door?"
.Gathering her courage with one last
effornt Jack fainitly repliedl: "I want
Dr. jfRobblns. My uncle Doran is very
ill dt Glenside."
"And have. you come alone from
Glenside, poor child ?" the voice in
quired.
'"Yes, sir," she said, Impatiently.
'Buit you are the doctor9 Wil you
hurry?" Uncle may be dying now, I
have been so long in coming." .
The -poor girl had hurried till she
was almost exhausted, and stood lean
ing bteothlessly and panting against
the door.
"The doctor lives two houses beyond. f<
Shall .1 go with you and call him?" - f
h1ut there was no response, for poor oY
Jack who had never in her life done al
anything so womanish, fainted quietly gi
away.
She was only dimly conscious of be- tr
Ing lifted in strong arms that hold her, I
close, and of being rapidly driven over v
a rough road, and at last finding her- d4
solf lying on her own bed at Glenside, ec
with a gray-haired gentleman bending l
ov'er her. She started up pale and an- h
zious. , g
"Where 18 uncle?" she cried. "I a
must go to him." ai
"No, uo, child. Lie still; he is bet. fe
ter," the doctor said."b
" Well, then, tell me all about it. ea
Who was it, and how did I get home?" to
The doctor knew what she lmeant. i
"You were at the minister's door, w
and he (coming home from visiting a a
sick parishioner) carried you, when you 01
fainted, to my house; and I drove you h
both over here. Now drink this; then, nl
if you feel able, you may go to your eY
uncle--he wishop to see you."
Jack obediently swallowed the F
strengthening potion, then smoothed ei
out the tangled curls with her hands. p
and, without stopping to look in her i
mirror, hastened to her uncle% rtm. lk
He was not alque; for by his bedside sat h
a grave, pleasant-faced young gentle- w
man, who looked at her with kindly, d
smiling eyes. She gave him but a ti
hasty glance, tor her uncle's hand was b
outstretched to her, and she ran to take g
it. . i
"And this is the brave girl who went i1
two mil9s though the dark night to J1
bring fielp to her cr6ss old uncle," he n
said. "I know all about it, dear. .I a
would have died if the doctor had not hl
'come so soon. You saved me. What h
reward can I give you dear child?" 'T
"Forgive my mother," whispered rz
Jack, softly. . e
Mr. Doran's face brightened. ri
"I was sure you would say that," he
cried. "Jack, dear, I have forgiven ti
her already, and as soon as it is morn- d
lng the minister here Is going for her. N
Do you think she will forgive me and d
come? She must come and stay, for I U
can never let you go, Jack - dear, a
brave Jack! You have taught m.e a d
lesson." e
And lie drew the blushing happy face o
down and kissed it with all a father's g
tenderness.
There were tears in the bright eyes ti
when she. looked up, For the second tl
time within a few hours Jack forgot b
her manliness and was crying. But Of
the tears and blushes gave a softness a
and charm to her face that made it lt
wonderfully attractive to Malcolm u
Boyd, the young minister, and shelook- 0
ed so sweet and lovable and wvomanly dl
that lie felt an almost irresistible in- n
cliuatlon to take her to his heart. 0
"She will be a woman worth the hav- tl
ing," he thought; and then and there b
resolved to win her-for his own. a
Jack had meant to make some pretty a
speech to the minister, to thank )iin n
for helping her; but she only remember- sl
ed now howv she had felt his arms hi
around her in the starlight, and, blush- 1h
ing, she hung her head In silence.
Thiat was two months ago. She b
smiles now when she thinks of it, for n
she is no longer shy with the minister, 54
Can you guess why? s
Mr. Doran Is building a beautitul b
little parsonage close by the village a
church, and rumor says that when It is fi
completed Jack wvill go there as the a
minister's bride. Perhaps It Is so, for Ic
she is growing so quiet and womanly "
that her happy mother, who Is renew- e'
ig her own youth in beautiful Glen- kc
side, says that God has doubly blessed
Jack's venture. '0
Toadg.
All children should know that toads o
are not only entirely harmless, but are t
among our best friends. They live on b
and destroy thousands of ants, spiders, ci
and the many bugs that in)jure our gar- fi
denis. In 'France they are considered ti
so valuable in gardens that they are hi
sold at from fifteen to seventeen dollars si
a hundred, or fifteen to twenty-five ci
cents a piece. ui
The great Duke of Wellington, many al
years ago, found a little boy crying be- ir
cause he had to go away' from home to r<
school in another town, and there would ci
be iio one to feed the toad wvhich lie was at
In the habit of feeding every morning, hi
and the noble-hearted Duke, sympathiz- 'I
ing with his young friend, promised bi
that lie would see that the toad was fed si
every morning. This he did, and letter a1
after letter caine to this little boy from st
Field Marshal, the Duke of Welling- ai
ton, telling him that the toad was alive ei
and wvell. .
Half a tea'poonful of common salt Il
dissolved in a little cold water and
drunk will instantly relieve hieart- hi4
burn..e
A druin.7i bolt.made fur a Lawrence I'
cotton mill is a monster power trans- W
mitter. it is 229 feet in length, double tl
making 458 feet - of leather three fees k<
wide, or 1874 square feet, Whien it Is ri
remembered thst only about twelve ti
square feet of the ordinary hide can be
used In making belting, it may be hi
calculated what a drove of cattle a(
would be requirdd to produce this one iC
belt. bl
-Budd Doble brought eleven head
of horses from California to Chicago
wit.h him. The pacer Arrow, 2.14, is al
among the number. Five of the re-c
malmng ten are yearlings. They ate sc
owned by W. H. Wilson, of Abdallah ci
Park, Uynthiana, Ky., and are Senator bl
Rose (brother to Le Grange, 2.23k), by st
Sultan, dem Georgiana by Overland, of
Ottoman, by Sultan, dam Montana ri
Maid by George W ikes; The Turk, by a1
Sultan, dam Ida Elliott by Allie West ; .i
Rio Gran'de, by Sultan, dam Wiggle u!
Waggle by P ompter, and Piacifioc h
Slope (brcether to Sunny Blope, 2,29{), le
by Sultan, dam Dido by' Hiatoga.' Tk a
remaining five are 8 and 4-year-old p
the roperty of Captain Cole, of Ca - i
Trne, and are cnsignd to John ,~ y
Tunr,o Piadlh(.t
A PLUCKY MULE.
,unning the 'Gauntlet'of a Confodor.
ate Canuonado.
Sometimes the mule is called uuon
r special service, requiring qualities
r which he does not generally receive
vdit. The lines were tightening
)out Charleston when Admiral Dahl
en's fleet began operations in the bar.
r, and rendered it practicable for the
oops on shore to advance with some
)pe of being able to hold points pre.
ously untenable. During the night a
)tachment of the Tenth corps dislodg.
La picket post on the eastern end of
[orris island, and when daylight came
td thrown up quite a formidable be.
nning for a field work. But the place
as within easy range of Fort Sumter
id Battery Wagner, and every Con.
derate gun that could be brought to
ar began to drop shell into the little
irthwork. It was thought that an at
mpt was about to be made to carry
io place by assault, and, while there
ore men enough to hold it they were
litt e short of - ammunition. - The
ily jiteticable road was a niile and a
%lf of hard, smooth sand beach, com
gnded from end to end by the Confed
ate batteries.
But there was a combination' in the
ederal camp that was equal to the
nergency; namely, a fleet mule and a
ucky driver. The mule Is mentioned
.st, only because he has long sin e
lcked his last kick but the driver if
still survives, will acknowledge that
ithout the mule he could not have
)no what he did. It may be assured
tat the mule had a good feed of oats
)fore he was called upon to run the
tuntlet, and possibly the driver, too,
ay then have felt justified in fortify.
ig the inner man. Be that as It may,
Lst before noon a few boxes of ammu
ition were thrown Into the lightest
rallable wagon, and, after looking the
irness over carefully, the driver took
is seat in the shelter of the sand hills.
he mule stood with his extensive ears
iking aft and a wicked gleam in his
to, as if the oats were beginning to
so into his brain.
"Good-by, boysl G'up, mule!" and
te equipage started down through the
ry sand to the hard level of the beach.
[ule shook his head and executed a
)mi-volt when he felt the damp sand
rder his feet, but driver soothed him
ith endearing words. It had not yet
iwned upon the Confederates that the
rpediti6n was intended for the relief
the garrison. But presently the
eam of intelligence was indicated
ith a rush in the shape of a shell from
o southeast angle of Sumter. It struck
te water fairly in line, ricocheted, and
arst over in the marsh; but It was the
gnal for action. Up went the whip,
ad the mule gathered his mighty hind
gs under him. For a moment it was
acertain whether he was going to kick
run, but a few remarks from the
river convinced him that there was d
tand for forward movement, so he "lit
it for all he was worth." At least
iirty guns commanded that stretch of
)ach, and they pounded away as fast
they could be fired. Now and then
shell would burst rather too near the
tule's ears for comfort, and he would
teer violently and try to make for
me. But the gallant driver plied the
,sh,'and held him to his wvork.
At length a ten Inch shell tore up the
sach and oxpl 'odd 80 near that the
1u10 was entirely demoralized; but not
>his driver. Leaping dowvn from his
at he caught the mule by the head,
icked him rapidly round once or twice,
id was off again on the keen jumnp be
ire the gunners could get his range as
fixed object. On he went, and at
st dashed into t..j redoubt; but there
as no shel ter in it for tihe mule. Hlil
irs waved conspicuously above the
w lying parapet.
Thie ammunition boxes wore tumbled
2t unceremonliously, and the mule's
,se pointed for home! With the light.
led load and the,.prospects of unlimit
I. fodder, he beat the previous record.
ut the Confederate artillerists were
1 their metal now. . They had failed
stop tile supplies, but their hearts
irned for revenge. Thleir shots now
ime more. from the rear, and bets were
coly offered with no takers, onl whart
io result would be should the imule
wve a fair chlance to kick a ton inch
Loll, as it wvere, "on the fly,' Thle
'escenl(io scream of shell chasing him
p the beach, lent - wings to his heels,
Id he fairly flow towvard tile shelter
g sand hills. There were only a few
ids more to be covered, when some
~reful gunner made a close calculation
to the lenlgthlening range, and pulled
s lanyard almost In the nick of timd.
he huge mass of iron struck the
sach, as it seemeod to the anxious
ectators, exactly behind tihe wagon,
ld the next instant nothing wvas to be
en thlere but a cloud of white smoke
id browvn sand. In an instant, ho0w
er, tis floated away, and thle mule
as seen1 vigorously reducing to kindi
g wvood what was left of tile quiarter.
aster's wagon.
And the (driver, where is lhe? Well,
was apparently knocked .over by the
:plosion, but 11e got on is feet in a
omenlt, anld, having cut .tile traces,
as on tile mule's back in anothler,
aving his hlat in response to the cheers
tat rolled across the wvater from Yan
se blue jackets, from Confederate gar
sons, and from the dark blue masses
at drowned tile distant sand dunes..
It is a pIty that the driver's name
is not been preserved, for Ils daring
tcertainly deserves recognition and
ward, l'erhaps lie received both,
it the writer has been unlable to find
ention of the fact.
-Sateens are the first toi put In an
~pearance, and havet been on the
unters of our leading merchants for
me time. <.There Is [a pronounced
ango in the designs from last season
lt hardly for tile better, 'for iil
.me of the patterns ai-e in tiny figures
flowers, stare, dots and interlaces
ugs, the majority show rings, blocki
d all sorts of odd shapes and do
gns, but all large and showy. I
ust be admitted that these goods,
ade up as exhibited in a window of s
ading dry goods pouso are exceed.
gly stylish. But we think mosi
iopie will prefer the tiny , stripes
ro those seen in the suitings of last
sar and repreduced in the sateens el
us season.
1M .
FASHION NOTES.
--Ied,Is a colot' I)revalent in cotton
goods, as elsewhere, and , t4e red and
white lald or striped gingham does
not look badly after all, on young peo.
ple.
--Shoes Are out low'over the instep.
Indoor shoes for the afternoon .or even
ing are of kid, embroidered with
beads,; a very tiny bow of ribbon is
placed in front. They are peaked at
the toe and have moderately high
heels.
-Out-of.-door jackets are made
tight-fitting at the back,' but loose in
front, with a gentleman's Collar and
revere, and fastened with one button
only at the neck. Another model is
turned back with .deep revers all the
way down, opening over a sort of skirt
vest, which is often braided or em
broidered.
-The pewgingbams are more elegant
and costly than any other cotton goods
" qe prought into the market before.
T.ey are as soft and fine as taffeta
silk,' a id, in fact, closely simulate in
the finer qualities a silken fabric. Fine
checks black and white, pure Indigo
blue and white, azure and white, and
gray and white are in demand for
morning dress, -trimmed with white em
broidery.
-We shall certainly see this season
a decided return to white lingerieq The
stiff, starched linen collar will not 'e
appear, but we shall have the large
turned-down lace collar, so elegant and
becoming, Also collarettes of fine
linen .etamine, ,trimmed with thread
lace. This collarette is formed of a
sorb of puffing round the neck, with a
deep gathered frilling all round. Some
times the collarette is continued in
front into a sort of pointed plastron,
which is laid over the bodice, and is a
pretty finish to an afternoon or dinner
toilet.
-It is astonishing what variety a
modiste of taste contrives to introduce
in the costumes she makes for her fair
clients. This spring's fashions are less
exclusive than ever. It had been pre
dicted that short round waists were
coming in again, with full bodices and
flowing sashes. This prediction is only
being realized in part. Bound waists
are seen, but not short-at least, not
shorter than the natural place. Sashes
are very wide and draped round the
waist. But this is only one model
among many equally adopted by fash
ion; peaked bodices are also much in
favor. They are made plain or full,
according to the wearer's figure, and.
the .chief consideration is that they
should be perfectly fitting and suit the
style of the person for whom they are
destined.
-The lace striped and figured are
shown in all colors in stripes of vari
ous colors, and plain goods for combi
nations, or for costumes of stripes of
two widths, or for solid costumes of
hair-line stripes or plain goods; the
fancy of the wearer decides this mat
ter. The colors of these cottons are
simply bewitching. Exquisite .rose
tints copied from the lovely pinks seen
in old Meissen china, and palo tur
quoise blues, are shown in stripes of
two delicate tones of the same color,
one but slightly paler than the other;
and these stripes are placed side by
side with a band- of creamy lace or a
stripe in ecru or cream twist or un
bleached cotton. Two shades of sil
ver-gray are thus used side by side. In
somne an "all-over" pattern of lace
forms an arabasque des!gn over the
stripes. These dainty patterns come
In pink cream-white and blue. The
third color is sometimes introduced as
a ball pattern figuring the stripe. Thus'
there are inch stripes in cream and
white, with the cream .stripes -dotted
with blue.
-The heliotrope color is still in
great favor for dressy toilets, for re
ceptions, dinners, weddings and so on
--that is, of course, for married ladies
wlIo wish to be dressed soberly, if with
elegance. The pretty violet shade
which has been named heliotrope is
less hackneyed than biluo, green, or
brown. Ried is always handsonxie, but
less easy to wear. This beautiful
heliotrope tint, which comprises so
many shades from pale mauve -to the
deepest purple, is therefore a great
resource. The shades are generally
eihosen for an elegant toilet. All the
front part of tne dress, bodice and'
skirt, for instance, will be of light
colored silk, triinmed with velvet in
applique, or embroidery in silk and
beads in 'fine graduation of the same
tint, while the back of the bodice and
the deep train will be of dark-colored
velvet. Satim is generally chosen for
the lightest and velvet for the darkest
shade, but plush and moire antique or
peau-de-soie may also be employed,
and the last is particularly suited, too.
for the* ground-work for silk and
bead enibroidery, to which are often
added threads of -gold, silver or steel.
-One of the most striking Innova
tions.in the new fashions of the season
is-that the turn-up collar, which has
reigjned so long, is now very g6nerally
dispensed with. A very elegang
though extremely. simple dress for a
young lady shows one of the latest
styles of fashion. We' will describe it
In detail. The material Is a soft Ckind
of nun's veiling of a pretty shade of
mouse-gray. The front of the bodice 'is
very finely plaited in small plaits like
those used in lingerie, the plaits are
fastened down as faat as the middle or the
chest; thence thiey are no longee stiched
down,' but remain loose; the fullness
thus produced -is gathered tojgether
again into' a point below. This bodice
comes down a little beyond the waist.
The upper-skirt is very finely gathered
on to it, failing loose in front almost to
the edge of the undereskirt, then
slightly draped upon each side - very
much at the' back. The underskirt is
of mouse-.gray fancy woolen materibl,
with Elie streaks of dark brown ar.
ranged in series of three and five. Tile
sleeves are finely platted on the upper
part from the shoulders down to a lit
tie above the elbow. whence, the plaits
being no ionger stitched down, it
fornis a sort of loose puffing, which Is
.gathered on to a plain band. There is
no standing-up collar round the throatl
the bodice is meanit to wear with a
deep turned-down lace collar, gathered
all round, 1Pierrot fashion, and, fast
ened at the back.
HIORSE NOTl~
-The little midget, Freeman, is now
considered amnong the very best light.
weight jockeys in the West.
-There will be a day's trotting at
the Pimlico track, Baltimore, Md., .on
July 4.
-Miss Ford, with $10,215 to her
credit, was Enquirer's largest winner
last season. Forty-one u Enquirer's
ran.
-Mr. Salisbury says that, barring
accidents, he will start Director in the
stallion race in California in the au
tumn.
-Mr..De Turk, of Santa- Rosa,' de
clined an offer of $5000' for the use of
Anteeo, 2.101, during the stud sea
son.
-Current repotts say that Pilot
Knox, 2.19k, wilt be one of the stal
lions in Hartford's $10,000 stake next
September.
-Charles Owens, who has gained
some distinction as an arateur jockey
"between the flags" in Ireland, has ar
rived in this country.
--Th'e' Pennsylvania Association of
Trotting Horse Breeders will hold their
annual meeting of 1888 at Du Bois,
Pa,, qn September 4, 6, 6 and 7.
-The second annual meeting of the
New England, Association of Trotting
Horse Breederh will be held at Mystic
Park, Boston, September 25 to 28.
-George Hakes, the .Illinois breeder
and turfman, has purchased of J. L.
Harris the 4-year-old trottinr stallion
Patula, by rancoast-Eden Lassie.
Price pall, $2500.
-Coupling horses in the book bet- '
ting, ,where two are entered from the
same stable, is now the order at New
Orleans, in accordance with the provi
slons of the new raoing-rules.
-Prince Wilkes has a full brother.
The youngster was dropped at High
land Farm, Lexingtpn, recently. We
hope that it will grow, up into as good
a track performer as the chestnut geld
ing owned by Mr. George A. Sing
erly.
-Milton Young denies that he has
made any agreement with the Dwyere
looking' to the purchase of Pontiac for
stud purposes. The horse at present is
not for sale, as it is believed that he
will stand the traii ing.
-Crit Davis, Harrodsburg, Ky., has
commenced to jog Prince Wilkes, John- *
ston, McLeod, and Katherine S. Mr.
Davis writes that Prince Wilkes is not
so fleshy this spring, and that he will be
in shape earlier than last season.
-Percy Talbott has sold the bay
pmare Silverone, 2.19k, by Alcyone, dam
Silverlock by Mambrino Time to Sam
Gamble, of San Francisco, Cal., for
06000. Silverone was foaled in 1882.
She made a record of 2.241 in the Gas.
aonade stake race of 1885, won by
Patron.
-The bay stallion Brynwood, t
years old, by Mambrino Patchen, dam
Nannie L., by Messenger Duroc, died
March 20th, in the A nerican Institute
building. he was owned~ip ~eor4 '
K. Sstare, and caught cold in being
shipped from Orange county to New
1York.
-The Hampden Park Association,
Springfleld, Mass., at a meeting on
M[arch 17, elected the following offcers:
L. J. Powers, President; Charles Ful
ler, Vice President; E. C. Robinsong
Secretary . and Treasurer; Executive
Uommittee, D. 0. Gilman, A. F.
Wildes, C. F. Shean and. 3. W. Good
rich.
-The Island Park track (between
Albany and Troy, N. Y.) hasbeen wid
nod.on the upper turn, and a new club
house has been built. The.Clay etakes,
a guaranteed purse of $3000 for horses
that have not beaten 3 minutes, will be
trotted for on June 13, 1888,
-The brown .pacing gelding Riley,
2.20. by howard's. Copperbottom, was
permanently injured in' a collision on
the Chicago and Northwestern Rail
road while being taken from Freeport,
Ell., to Rlockford. Sam Chapman, his
owner, entered suit for damages against
the company, and was awarded 63500.
-The Great Eastern Circuit com
prises the Driving Club of New York,
May 22-25; Goshen Driving Club, May
29 to June 1; Hudson River Driving
Park, Pouglikteepsie, June 5.8; Island
Park, Albany, June 12, 18, 14 and 15;
Oharter Oak Park, Hartford, June 19
22; Beacon Park, Boston, July 8-6, and
uniform classes and purses have been
arranged throughout the circuit,
-W. H. Wilson, Abda11ah' Park,
purchased alt of the Sulban foals
dropped 'at -Mr. Rose's ranch- near San
Gabriel, Cal., in 1887. There were only
three colts and one filly. They were
got justt before Sultan was shipped to*
Kentucky. 'Mr." Wilson also purchased
a yearing filly by Stamboul, 2.17k. dam
by The Moor. The five yotingsters
were broughit over by Budd Doble, and
arrived at Abdallaui Park on March
-C. J. Hamlin makes the following
offer to General B. F. . Tracy: "I will
trot at thei epmning -fall meeting of the
New York . .State Trotting Horse
Breeder's Association, or atthe Buiralo
international Fair, two Village Farm
2-year-oldis, one the get. of Mambrirto
King, and cue the gets of Alrpont, Jr.,.
against two Marshland Farm 2-year
olds, one the'ght of Mambr4no Dhdley,
and one the get of Kentuoky Wilkes,
for any consideration that you may sug
gest. I will also trot a 8 year-old by
Mambrino ijing against the tried 8.
year-old named by you by Kentucky
Wilkes. -
-Stallon fees are higher in Englandi
than in America. Heatmit, the nesitor
of E.nglish qires, stands at the Blank
ney Stud, In Lincolnshire, at 250 guin4.
efts, or $1250; book fulL. With him
stand Galopin asnd Bendago, each at: 10(0
guineas, or P500. Robert the Davil,
Hampton, Bend .Or, Ormnonde, Spring
field and St. 8Igion, all stand at $50
S~terIin -, Petrarch and Isonomy stand
at $75; Munoaster, Foxhall, Thurlo,
St. G.tien, Sweetbread, Blaroaldine,
Londesborough, Peter Galliard, Wen.
look, Melton, Master *aldare, CJarlton,
Wisdom, Phiilanion Trappist, G*eorge
Frederick, CamballI all tnd at $25t6,
a price that ia consfdered excessive in,
this country,