THE SONGS OF BIRDS.

DR. TALMAGE ON NATURE'S MINISTRY IN SONG. The Feathered Warblers Sing of Love and Hope and Family Life, and the Season Is Now Here to Learn of Them--Marvelous Melody In Nature. BROOKLYN, June 25.--Rev. Dr. Talmage this morning chose for the subject of his sermon "The Song of Birds." This, like many of his sermons, is suited to the season of the year in which it is preached. It is well fitted to be read under the trees and has in it the health of outdoor life. Text, Psalms, civ. 12, "By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches."

There is an important and improving subject to which most people have given no thought and concerning which this is the first pulpit discussion--namely, "The Song of Birds." If all that has been written concerning music by human voice or about music sounded on instrument by finger or breath were put together, volume by the side of volume, it would fill a hundred alcoves of the national libraries. But about the song of birds there is as much silence as though a thousand years ago the last lark had with his wing swept the door latch of heaven and as though never a whippoorwill had sung its lullaby to a slumbering forest at nightfall. We give a passing smile to the call of a bobolink or the chirp of a canary, but about the origin, about the fiber, about the meaning, about the mirth, about the pathos, about the inspiration, about the religion in the song of birds the most of us are either ignorant or indifferent. A caveat I this morning file in the high court of heaven against that almost universal irreligion. First, I remark that which will surprise many, that the song of birds is a regulated and systematic song, capable of being written out in note and staff and bar and clef as much as anything that Wagner or Schumann or Handel ever put on paper. As we pass the grove where the flocks are holding matin or vesper service we are apt to think that the sounds are extemporized, the rising or falling tone is a mere accident, it is flung up and down by haphazard, the bird did not know what it was doing, it did not care whether it was a long meter psalm or a madrigal. What a mistake! The musician never put on the music rack before him Mendelssohn's "Elijah" or Beethoven's "Concerto" in G or Spohr's B flat symphony with more def-

inite idea as to what he was doing than every bird that can sing at all confines

himself to accurate and predetermined rendering. The oratorios, the chants, the carols, the overtures, the interludes, the ballads, the canticles that this morning were heard or will this evening be heard in the forest have rolled down through the ages without a variation. Even the chipmunk's song was ordained clear back in the eternities. At the gates of paradise it sang in sounds like the syllables "Kuk!" "Kuk!" "Kuk!" The thrush at the creation uttered sounds like the word "Teacher!" "Teacher!" "Teacher!" as now it utters sounds like "Teacher!" "Teacher!" "Teacher!" In the summer of the year 1 the yel-

lowhammer trilled that which sounded like "If!" "If!" "If!" as in this summer

it trills "If!" "If!" "If!" The Maryland yellowthroat inherits and bequeaths the tune sounding like the words "Pity me, pity me, pity me!" The white sparrow's

"Tseep, tseep" woke our great grandfathers as it will awaken our great grandchildren. The "Tee-ka-tee-ka-tee-ka" of the birds in the first century was the same as the "Tee-ka-tee-ka-tee-ka" of the nineteenth century. NATURE'S UNCHANGING SONG. The goldfinch has for 6,000 years been singing "De-ree-dee-ee-ree." But these sounds, which we put in harsh words, they put in cadence, rhythmic, soulful and enrapturing. Now if these is this order and systemization and rhythm all through God's creation does it not imply that we should have the same characteristics in the music we make or try to make? Is it not a wickedness that

so many parents give no opportunity for the culture of their children in the art of sweet sound? If God stoops to edu-

cate every songbird, oriole and grosbeak in song, how can parents be so indifferent about the musical development of the immortals in their household? While God will accept our attempts to sing, though it be only a hum or a drone, if we can do no better, what a shame that in this last decade of the nineteenth century, when so many orchestral batons are waving and so many academies of music are in full concert, and so many skilled men and women are waiting to offer instruction there are so many people who cannot sing with any confidence in the house of God because they have had no culture in this sacred art, or while they are able to sing a fantasia at a piano amid the fluttering fans of social admirers, nevertheless feel utterly helpless when in church the surges of an "Ariel" or an "Antioch" roll over them. The old fashioned country singing school, now much derided and caricatured (and indeed sometimes it was diverted from the real design into the culture of the soft emotions rather than the voice), nevertheless did admirable work, and in our churches we need singing schools to prepare our Sabbath audiences for prompt and spontaneous multipotent psalmody. This world needs to be stormed with hallelujahs. We want a hemispheric campaign of hosannas. From hearing a blind beggar sing Martin Luther went home at 40 years of age to write his first hymn. In the autumn I hope to have a congregational singing school here during the week which will prepare people for the songs of the holy Sabbath. If the church of God the universal is going to take this world for righteousness, there must be added a hundredfold of more harmony as well as a hundredfold of more volume to sacred music. Further, I notice in the song of birds that it is a divinely taught song. The rarest prima donna of all the earth could not teach the robin one musical note. A kingfisher flying over the roof of a temple aquake with harmonies would not catch up one melody. From the time that the first bird's throat was fashioned on the banks of the Gihon and Hiddekel until today on the Hudson or Rome the winged creature has learned nothing from the human race in the way of carol or anthem. The feathered songsters learned all their music direct from God. He gave them the art in a nest of straw or moss or sticks and taught them how to lift that song into the higher heavens and sprinkle the earth with its dulcet enchantments. God fashioned. God tuned. God launched. God lifted music! And there is a kind of music that the Lord only can impart to you, my hearer. There have been depraved, reprobate and blasphemous souls which could sing till great auditoriums were in raptures. There have been soloists and bassos and baritones and sopranos whose brilliancy in concert halls has not been more famous than their debaucheries. But there is kind of song which, like the song of birds, is divinely fashioned. Songs of pardon. Songs of divine comfort. Songs of worship. "Songs in the night," like those which David and Job mentioned. Songs full of faith and tenderness and prayer, like those which the Christian mother sings over the sick cradle. Songs of a broken heart being healed. Songs of the dying flashed upon by opening portals of amethyst. Songs like that which Paul commended to the Colossians when he said, "Admonish one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing, with grace in your hearts, to the Lord." Songs like Moses sang after the tragedy of the Red sea, songs like Deborah and Barak sang at the overthrow of Sisera, songs like Isaiah heard the redeemed sing as he came to Zion. Oh, God, teach us that kind of song which thou only canst teach and help us to sing it on earth and sing it in heaven. It was the highest result of sweet sound when under the playing of Paganini one auditor exclaimed reverently, "Oh, God!" and another sobbed out, "Oh, Christ!" Further, I remark in regard to the song of birds that it is trustful and without any fear of what may yet come. Will you tell me how it is possible for that wren, that sparrow, that chickadee, to sing so sweetly when they may any time be pounced on by a hawk and torn wing from wing? There are cruel beaks in the thicket and in sky ready to slay the song birds. Herods on the wing. Modocs of the sky. Assassins armed with iron claw. Murderers of song floating up and down the heavens. How can the birds sing amid such perils? Besides that, how is the bird sure to get its food? Millions of birds have been starved. Yet it sings in the dawn without any certainty of breakfast or dinner or supper. Would it not be better to gather its food for the day before vocalizing? Besides that, the hunters are abroad. Bang! goes a gun in one direction. Bang! goes a gun in another direction. The song will attract the shot and add to the peril. Besides that, yonder is a thundercloud, and there may be hurricane and hail to be let loose, and what then

will become of you, the poor warbler? Besides that, winter will come, and it may be smitten down before it gets to the tropics. Have you ever seen the snow strewn with the birds belated in their migration? The titmouse mingles its voice with the snowstorms as Emer-

son describes the little thing he found in tempestuous January:

Here was this storm in full breath, Hurling defiance at vast death;

This scrap of valor, just for play,

Fronts the north wind in waistcoat gray.

SONGS OF HOPE AND TRUST.

For every bird a thousand perils and disasters hovering and sweeping round

and round. Yet there it sings, and it is a trustful song. The bird that has it the

hardest sings the sweetest. The lark from the shape of her claws may not perch on a tree. In the grass her nest is exposed to every hoof that passes. One of the poorest shelters of all the earth is the lark's nest. If she sings at all, you will expect her to render the saddest of threnodies. No, no. She sings exultingly an hour without a pause and mounting 3,000 feet without losing a note. Would God we all might learn the lesson. Whatever perils, whatever bereavements, whatever trials are yet to come, sing, sing with all your heart and sing with all your lungs. If you wait until all the hawks of trouble have folded their wings and all the hunters of hate have unloaded their guns and all the hurricanes of disaster have spent their fury, you will never sing at all. David, the pursued of Absalom and the betrayed of Ahithophel and the depleted of "sores that ran in the night," presents us the best songs of the Bible. John Milton, not able to see his hand be-

fore his face, sings for us the most famous poem of all literature, and some of the most cheerful people I have ever met

have been Christian people under physsical or domestic or public torment. The songs of Charles Wesley, which we now calmly sing in church, were composed by him between mobs. Further, in the sky galleries there are songs adapted to all moods. The meadow lark is mournful, and the goldfinch joyous, and the grosbeak prolonged of note. But the libretto of nature is voluminous. Are you sad? You can hear from the bowers the echo of your grief.

Are you glad? You can hear an echo of your happiness. Are you thoughtful?

You can hear that which will plunge you into deeper profound. Are you weary? You may catch a restful air. So the songs of birds are administrative in all

circumstances. And we would do well to have a hymnology for all changes of conditions. You may sing your woes into peace and rouse your joys into greater altitudes. Upon every condition of body and soul, let us try the power of song.

The multitudinous utterances of grove and orchard and garden and forest sug-

gest most delightful possibilities. Further, I notice that the song of birds is a family song. Even those of

the feathered throngs which have no song at all make what utterances they do in sounds of their own family of birds. The hoot of the owl, the clatter of the magpie, the crow of the chanticleer, the drumming of the grouse, the laugh of the loon in the Adirondacks, the cackle of the hen, the scream of the eagle, the croak of the raven, are sounds

belonging to each particular family. But when you come to those which have real songs, how suggestive that it is always a family song! All the skylarks, all the nightingales, all the goldfinches, all the blackbirds, all the cuckoos, pre-

fer the song of their own family and never sing anything else. So the most deeply impressive songs we ever sing are family songs. They have come down from generation to generation. You were sung to sleep in your infancy and childhood by songs that will sing in your soul forever. Where was it, my brother or sister, that you heard the family song--on the banks of the Ohio, or the Alabama, or the Androscoggin, or the Connecticut, or the Tweed, or the Thames, or the

Raritan? That song at eventide, when you were tired out--indeed too tired to

sleep, and you cried with leg ache, and you were rocked and sung to sleep--you

hear it now, the soft voice from sweet lips, she as tired, perhaps more tired than you, but she rocked, and you slum-

bered. Oh, those family songs! The songs that father sang, that mother sang, that sisters and brothers sang. They roll on us today with a reminiscence that fills the throat as well as the heart with emotion. In our house in my childhood it was always a religious song. I do not think that the old folks knew anything but religious songs. At any rate I never heard them sing anything else. It was "Jesus, Lover of my Soul," or "Rock of Ages," or "There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood," or "Mary to the Saviour's Tomb." Mothers, be careful

what you sing your children to sleep with. Let it be nothing frivolous or silly.

Better have in it something of Christ and heaven. Better have in it something

that will help that boy 30 years from now to bear up under the bombardment of temptation. Better have in it something that will help that daughter 30 years from now when upon her come the cares of motherhood and the agonies of bereavement and the brutal treatment of one who swore before high heaven that he would cherish and protect. Do not waste the best hour for making an impression upon your little one, the hour of dusk, the beach between day and night. Sing not a doleful song, but

a suggestive song, a Christian song, a song you will not be ashamed to meet when it comes to you in the eternal destiny of your son and daughter. The ori-

ole has a loud song, and the chewink a long song, and the bluebird a short song, but it is always a family song, and let your gloaming song to your children, whether loud or long or short, be a Christian song. These family songs are about all we keep of the old homestead. The house where you were born will go into the hands of strangers. The garments that were carefully kept as relics will become moth eaten. The family Bible can go into the possession of only one of the family. The lock of gray hair may be lost from the locket, and in a few years all signs and mementoes of the old homestead will be gone forever. But the family songs, those that we heard at 2 years of age, at 5 years of age, at 10 years of age, will be indestructible and at 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 years of age will give us a mighty boost over some rough place in the path of our pilgrimage. THE LOST RESTORED BY SONG. Many years ago a group of white children were captured and carried off by the Indians. Years after, a mother who had lost two children in that capture, went among the Indians, and there were many white children in line, but so long a time had passed the mother could not tell which were hers until she began to sing the old nursery song, and her two children immediately rushed up, shout-

ing, "Mamma! Mamma!" Yes, there is an immortality in a nursery song. Hear it, all you mothers, an immortality of power to rescue and save. What an occasion that must have been in Washington, Dec. 17, 1850, when Jenny Lind sang "Home, Sweet Home," the author of those words, John Howard Payne, seated before her. She had rendered her other favorite songs, "Casta Diva" and her "Flute Song," with fine effect, but when she struck "Home, Sweet Home," John Howard Payne rose under the power, and President Fillmore and Henry Clay and Daniel Webster and the whole audience rose with him. Anything connected with home ransacks our entire nature with a holy power, and songs that get well started in the nursery or by the family hearth roll on after the lips that sung them are forever silent and the ears that first heard them forever cease to hear. I preach this sermon just before many of you will go out to pass days or weeks in the country. Be careful how you treat the birds. Remember they are God's favorites, and if you offend them you offend him. He is so fond of their voices that there are forests where for a hundred miles no human foot has ever trod and no human ear has ever listened. Those interminable forests are concert halls with only one auditor--the Lord God Almighty. He builded those auditoriums of leaves and sky and supports all that infinite minstrelsy for himself alone. Be careful how you treat his favorite choir. In Deuteronomy he warns the people, "If a bird's nest chance to be before thee in the way in any tree or on the ground, whether they be young ones or eggs, thou shalt not take the dam with the young, that it my be well with thee and that thou mayest prolong thy days." So you see your own longevity is related to your

treatment of birds. Then go forth and attend the minstrelsy. Put off startling colors, which frighten the winged songsters into silence or flight, and put on your more sober attire and move noise-

lessly into the woods farther and farther from the main road and have no con-

versation, for many a concert in and out of doors has been ruined by persistent talkers, and then sit down on a mossy bank--

Where a wild stream with headlong shock

Comes brawling down a bed of rock.

And after perhaps an hour of intense solitude there will be a tap of a beak on a tree branch far up, sounding

like the tap of a musical baton, and then first there will be solo, followed by a duet or a quartet, and afterward by doxologies in all the tree tops and amid all the branches, and if you have a Bible along with you, and you can without rustling the leaves, turn to the one hun-

dred and forty-eighth Psalm of David and read, "Praise the Lord, beasts and all cattle, creepings things and flying flowl," and then turn over quietly

to my text and read, "By them shall the fowls of the heaven have

their habitation, which sing among the branches," or if under the power of the bird voices you are transported, as when Dr. Worgan played so powerfully on the organ at St. John's that Richard Cecil said he was in such blessed bewilderment he could not find in his Bible the first chapter of Isaiah, though he leafed the book over and over,

and you shall be so overcome with forest harmony that you cannot find the Psalms of David, never mind, for God will speak to you so mightily it will make no

difference whether you hear his voice from the printed page or the vibrating throat of one of his plumed creatures. THE SEASON TO STUDY NATURE.

While this summer more than usual out of doors let us have what my text

suggests, an out of doors religion. What business had David, with all the advantages of costly religious service and smoking incense on the altar, to be listening to the chantresses among the tree branches? Ah! he wanted to make himself and all who should come after him more alert and more worshipful amid

the sweet sounds and beautiful sights of the natural world. There is an old

church that needs to be rededicated. It is older than St. Paul's or St. Peter's or St. Mark's or St. Sophia's or St. Isaac's. It is the cathedral of nature. That is

the church in which the services of the millennium will be held. The buildings fashioned out of stone and brick and mortar will not hold the people. Again the mount of Olives will be the pulpit. Again the Jordan will be the baptistry. Again the mountains will be the galleries. Again the skies will be

the blue ceiling. Again the sunrise will be the front door and the sunset the back door of that temple. Again the clouds will be the upholstery and the morning mist the incense. Again the trees will be the organ loft where "the fowls of heaven have their habitation, which is sing among the branches." St.

Francis d'Assisi preached a sermon to birds and pronounced the benedictions upon them, but all birds preach to us, and their benediction is almost supernal. While this summer amid the works of God let us learn responsiveness. Surely if we cannot sing we can hum a tune, and if we cannot hum a tune we can

whistle. If we cannot be an oriole, we can be a quail. In some way let us dem-

onstrate our gratitude to God. Let us not be beaten by the chimney swallow, and the humming bird, and the brown thrasher. Let us try to set everything

in our life to music, and if we cannot give the carol of the song sparrow take the plaint of the hermit thrush. Let our life be an anthem of worship to the God who created us, and the Christ who ransomed us, and the Holy Ghost who

sanctifies us. And our last song! May it be our best song! The swan was

thought by the ancients to never sing except when dying. In the time of Edward IV no one was allowed to own a swan except he were a king's son or had considerable estate. Through 100 or 200 years of life that bird was said never to utter anything like music until its last moment came, and

then lifting its crested beauty it would pour forth a song of almost matchless

thrill, resounding through the groves. And so, although the struggles of life

may be too much for us and we may find it hard to sing at all, when the last hour comes to you and me, may there be a radiance from above and a glory settling round that shall enable us to utter a song on the wings of which we shall mount to where the music never ceases and the raptures never die. "What is that, mother?" "The swan, my love: He is floating down from his native grove.

No loved one, no nestling nigh--He is floating down by himself to die. Death darkens his eye and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings.

Live so, my child, that when death shall come, Swanlike and sweet, it may waft thee home!"

Ribbons and Their Uses. Apart from the enormous use of ribbon in millinery of this season, this fascinating kind of garniture is also immensely displayed on dresses of all

kinds whether for the street or house,

daytime or evening, morning robe or dancing gown.

The names bestowed upon the ribbon

bows which gayly decorate the fashionable gowns are as fanciful as the shapes of these bows themselves.

Among them are "donkey's ears," "windmills," "butterflies," "satyr's horns," "choux or cabbage bows," torsades or twists, rosettes, "loop clusters" and triple and quadruple as well as single "streamers." Then there are "raven's wings" of black satin ribbon for the

decoration of bright pink, scarlet and

light green growns, and "bat's wings" of black gauze ribbon for the purpose of artistic contrast with bright orange and

vivid yellow. The effects produced are very striking and greatly heighten the appearance of the fabrics worn.--Do-mestic Monthly. To Kill Lice on Animals. To destroy lice on horses the following is recommended by the chief of the bureau of animal industry at Washington: Rub the horse with sulphur ointment, or with sulphur of potassium, 4 ounces; water, 1 gallon; or with tar water, or the skin may be sponged with benzine. The application should be repeated a week later to destroy all lice hatched from the nits in the interval. Professor C. P. Gillette of the Iowa experiment station

reports the destruction of the hog louse

by the use of kerosene emulsion. He

uses a 12 per cent emulsion and applies

the liquid with a force pump.

For parasites affecting the skin of

sheep, a very common American remedy

is the tobacco dip, to be used after the

shearing. To 100 gallons of water there

is added 35 pounds of strong tobacco

thoroughly steeped in a portion of the

water and 10 pounds of sulphur--the liq-

uid to be used at a temperature of about 110 degrees, and not exceeding 120 degrees. There are, however, various modifications of this formula in use in different sections of the country, in some of which small quantities of lime and concentrated lye enter into the composition. Good at Repartee.

Jim Sniverly got a good position in a crockery store in Harlem. Jim is a smart young man and very good at rep-

artee. He only remained in the crock-

ery store a few days. When he was asked why he left the store he said he found life in a store too confining. The real cause of his leaving grew out of the following little incident: A wealthy customer was examining some teapots.

"A dollar and a half for this teapot? I find that very dear," she said.

"That is not too much money for a teapot of this antique style," replied Sniverly with a smirk. "Then you can't knock anything off?" "Yes, I could take a hammer and knock off the spout, but I wouldn't care to knock anything off. You can knock the spout off after you buy it and take it home." The lady reported this smartness to the boss, who instead of raising Jim's raises raised James himself.--Texas Siftings. A Designer of Battleships. Lieutenant Nixon, who designed the cruiser New York, which beat all records the other day, is a graduate of the Annapolis academy, but left the navy to enter the shipyards of the Cramps. The battleships Indiana and Massachusetts are being built from his designs. Lieu-

tenant Nixon was sent to England to study naval architecture, but seems to have surpassed his teachers.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.

LESSON I, THIRD QUARTER, INTERNATIONAL SERIES, JULY 2. Text of the Lesson, Acts xvi, 6-15--Mem-

ory Verses, 14, 15--Golden Text, Math.

xxviii, 19--Commentary by the Rev. D. M. Stearns. 6. "Now when they had gone throughout Phyrgia and the region of Galatia, and were forbidden of the Holy Ghost to preach the word in Asia." As we left our studies in this book six months ago we parted with Paul and Barnabas at Antioch in Syria teaching and preaching the word of the Lord. Then came the separation of these two as they were about to start on their second tour, Barnabas and Mark sailing for Cyprus, while Paul and Silas went through Syria and Cilicia. By consulting the map, without which it is impossible to understand this lesson, we see them still moving westward, but hedged in on north and south and compelled to move on through Mysia. 7. "After they were come to Mysia they assayed to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit suffered them not." One of the most striking things in this book is the partnership

of the Holy Spirit and the apostles, just as Jesus had said that it would be (John xiv, 16, 17; xv, 26, 27; xvi, 18; Acts i, 8). And as it was afterward proved to be as when they said, "We are the witnesses, and so is also the Holy Ghost;" also when the Spirit said unto Philip to join himself to the eunuch's chariot, when the Spirit called for the special separation of Paul and Barnabas, and when the council at Jerusalem said to the Christians at Antioch, "It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us" (Acts v, 32; viii, 29; xiii, 2; xv, 28). Then comes the question, Where is this partnership today? Are we who profess to be workers with God completely and absolutely under the control of the Spirit? 8. "And they, passing by Mysia, came town to Troas." It would not be safe to conclude that opposition was an indication that the Spirit was telling us to move on for the opposition at Iconium is given as the reason why Paul continued there (chapter xiv, 2, 3), and elsewhere he speaks of a great door and effectual with many adversaries (I Cor. xvi, 9); also at Corinth, where there was much opposition, the Lord came to him and strengthened him to abide

18 months in that city (chapter xviii, 6, 9,

10). We may be sure of this, that if we are wholly under the Spirit's control, seeking only the glory of God, He will guide us in some unmistakable way (Ps. xxxii, 8; Isa. xxx, 21.) 9. "Come over into Macedonia and help us." Having arrived at the seacoast, they no doubt continue in prayer, and in the stillness of the night this is the message. There was no word of Scripture to give them special guidance any more than there was to send Philip from Samaria to the way to Gaza. As a rule the word of God is a full and sufficient guide, and if anything more is needed it shall be given to the humble, trusting soul by some event of Providence or some whisper of the Spirit, but never in opposition to the written word. 10. "And after he had seen the vision, immediately we endeavored to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called us for to preach the gospel unto them." The party seems to be increased here by the addition of the writer Luke, for instead of saying "they," as heretofore, it is now "we." In Col. iv, 14, he is called "Luke, the beloved physician" and is elsewhere mentioned by name in Phi. 34 and

II Tim. iv, 11. Observe Paul's promptness in obeying the call, and fancy he and his party looking about the wharves for a vessel in which to cross tot Europe, or possibly there was regular communication. We can-

not think of them going without much prayer. 11. "Therefore loosing from Troas, we

came with a straight course to Samothra-

cia, and the next day to Neapolis." By

consulting the map we find that Samothracia was an island in the Aegean sea, al-

most in a direct line from Troas to Neapo-

lis, and perhaps about half way across,

Neapolis being the port of Philippi and about 10 miles distant from it. What was

accomplished on the way across or at Neapolis is not written, but we cannot suppose

the apostle and his companions to have let

slip any opportunity of making Jesus

known. He who teaches us to "buy up the opportunities" (Eph. v, 16; R. V., margin)

was doubtless accustomed to do the same.

12. "And from thence to Philippi, which

is the chief city of that part of Macedonia

and a colony, and we were in that city abid-

ing certain days." Strangers in a strange land; no one to meet and welcome them; no kindly greeting; not expected by any. What a good time for satan to get in some work on his line, and probably he tried it! Well, Paul, you are quite a distance from home, and nobody knows you or wants you here; your man in the vision who called you this way is not up to time; guess you have made a mistake; you are not wanted

here; better get back. Such comforting suggestions would have been very like satan, but Paul knew him, and he knew Jesus too. 13. "And on the Sabbath we went out of

the city by a riverside, where prayer was wont to be made, and we sat down and spake unto the women which resorted

thither." Thank God for the women who

pray and who love to meet for prayer!

Note that the gospel was first preached in Europe at a women's prayer meeting, and listen to Paul exhorting the brethren to help the women in this very place, women

who labored with him in the gospel (Phil. iv, 3). We can readily imagine what Paul

talked about, for he had but one chief

topic--one person had taken him captive

(chapters ix, 20; xvii, 2, 3; xxviii, 23, 31).

14. "And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple, of the city of Thyatira, which worshiped God, heard us, whose

heart the Lord opened, that she attended

unto the things which were spoken of

Paul." Paul was not suffered to go into

Asia (verse 6) at this time, but here was a

woman of Asia, who up to her light worshiped God, and doubtless eagerly prayed for more light, and now she has received it by a special messenger all the way from Syria, and but recently from the Holy City, Jerusalem, one who had himself seen the Lord (I Cor. xv, 8). This was the greatest

day in all her life, for she had heard of Him

of whom Moses and the prophets had writ-

ten. He had really come and had been de-

spised and rejected and crucified according to Isaiah liii and Ps. xxii. He had risen again

according to Ps. xvi. In Him had been fulfilled every type, and now she hears all

this from one who had actually seen Him

and received it from Himself. Her soul is full, she can ask no more, she accepts Him as her salvation.

15. "And when she was baptized and her

household she besought us, saying, If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord,

come into my house and abide there. And

she constrained us." Happy indeed are

those who not only receive Jesus into their

hearts, but constrained by His love to them

cheerfully hand over to Him spirit, soul and body with all they possess for His service. The Fashion In Necklaces. Necklaces grow more elaborate, and old fashioned chains with lockets are again revived, which is a mercy now that

the fashionable bodice uncovers so much

of the average unloveliness of the femi-

nine neck and shoulders. Call them Venus' kissing places or saucers, what you will, the depressions above the shoulder blades are less noticeable with some kind of necklace, and the fairness of the skin is enhanced by the gold and gems.--New York Sun.

DESIRABLE COTTAGES FOR SALE OR RENT.

If you intend visiting the seashore the coming season, communicate with

R. CURTIS ROBINSON,

Real Estate and Insurance Agent,

744 ASBURY AVENUE, OCEAN CITY, N. J. who has on hand a number of desirable furnished and unfur-

nished cottages. Full information furnished on application.

Building lots for sale in every section of the city. I also

have 150 lots near Thirty-eighth street, which I will offer to a syndicate, five lots to the share. Money to loan on Bond and Mortgage on improved property. SCUDDER LUMBER CO.,

PLANING MILL, SASH FACTORY AND LUMBER YARDS

MANUFACTURERS OF

Doors, Window Frames, Shutters, Sash, Moldings, Brackets

Hot Bed Sash, Scroll Work, Turning, &c.

ALSO DEALERS IN BUILDING LUMBER OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, OF WHICH

A LARGE STOCK IS CONSTANTLY ON HAND, UNDER

COVER, WELL SEASONED AND SOLD AT LOWEST MARKET PRICES.

FRONT AND FEDERAL STREETS, CAMDEN, N. J.

Y. CORSON,

REAL ESTATE AGENT, AND LICENSED AUCTIONEER, No. 721 Asbury Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Properties for sale. Boarding Houses and Cottages for Rent in all parts of the city. Correspondence solicited.

WM. LAKE, C. E., REAL ESTATE AGENT,

Surveying, Conveyancing, Commissioner of Deeds, Notary Public, Master

in Chancery. Sec'y Ocean City Building and Loan Association.

Lots for Sale or Exchange. Houses to rent, furnished or unfurnished. Deeds, Bonds, Mortgages, Wills and Contracts carefully drawn. Abstracts of titles carefully prepared. Experience

of more than twenty-five years. Office Sixth Street and Asbury Avenue.

P. O. Box 325. WM. LAKE.

Honesty is the best policy.--B. Franklin.

Therefore get the policies issued at

the office of H. B. Adams & Co., by

HONEST, Sound, Liberal, Solid and Successful Fire Insurance Companies. Your choice of 18 of the best American and English Companies. LOTS FOR SALE in all parts of the city. Hotels and Cottages for Sale or Rent. Money to loan on mortgages. H. B. ADAMS & CO., Eighth Street, opposite W. J. R. R. Station, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

E. B. LAKE,

SUPERINTENDENT OF OCEAN CITY ASSOCIATION From its Organization, and also REAL ESTATE AGENT Having thousands of Building Lots for sale at various prices, Some very Cheap and located in all parts of Ocean City. Now is the time to purchase property before the second railroad comes, as then property will greatly advance.

I have a good many Inquiries for Property between 6th and

12th streets. Any one having property for sale might do

well to give me their prices.

All persons desiring to Buy, or Sell, or Exchange property,

would do well before closing any transaction to call on

or address E. B. LAKE,

Association Office, No. 601 Asbury Ave., Ocean City, N. J.

F. L. ARCHAMBAULT.

I am offering Diamonds, Watches, Jew-

elery, Silver Plated and Solid Silver Ware Handsome Table and Banquet Lamps during this month at the very lowest prices, and my success has been owing just to such special inducements. I feel there is no excuse for one not to enjoy a good time-keeper, when prices are

from $10 to $15 in coin silver cases.

Have a Watch, be on time. FRANK L. ARCHAMBAULT, JEWELER, No. 106 Market Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA.