IN THE SILENT NIGHT

DR. TALMAGE ON THE MINISTRY OF SILENCE, GRIEF AND DEATH.

The Mysterious Law by Which God Warns Us of a Coming Change Compared With Which All Earthly Changes Are as Naught--The Great Compensation.

BROOKLYN, July 9.--Rev. Dr. Talmage

has chosen as his subject for today the text, "At evening time it shall be light" (Zechariah xiv, 7).

While "night" in all languages is the the symbol for gloom and suffering, it is often really cheerful bright and impressive. I speak not of such nights as come

down with no star pouring light from above or silvered wave tossing up light from beneath--murky, hurtling, portent-

ous--but such as you often see when the

pomp and magnificence of heaven turn out on night parade, and it seems as though the song which the morning stars began so long ago were chiming yet among the constellations and the sons of God were shouting for joy. Such nights the sailor blesses from the forecastle, and the trapper on the vast prairie, and the belated traveler by the roadside, and the soldier from the tent,

earthly hosts gazing upon heavenly, and

shepherds guarding their flocks afield,

while angel hands above them set the

silver bells a-ringing. "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace: good will toward men."

What a solemn and glorious thing is night in the wilderness! Night among

the mountains! Night on the ocean! Fragrant night among tropical groves!

Flashing night amid arctic severities! Calm night on Roman campaigns! Aw-

ful night among the cordilleras! Glori-

ous night 'mid the sea after a tempest! Thank God for the night! The moon

and the stars which rule it are light-

houses on the coast toward which, I hope, we are all sailing, and blind mariners are we if with so many beaming, burning, flaming glories to guide us we cannot find our way into the harbor. My text may well suggest that as the nat-

ural evening is often luminous so it shall be light in the evening of our sor-

rows--of old age--of the world's history --of the Christian life. "At eventime it shall be light." This prophecy will be fulfilled in the evening of Christian sorrow. For a long time it is broad daylight. The sun rides high. Innumerable activities go ahead with a thousand feet and work with a thousand arms, and the pickax struck a mine, and the battery made a discovery,

and the investment yielded its 20 per cent, and the book came to its twentieth

edition, and the farm quadrupled in value, and sudden fortune hoisted to

high position, and children were praised, and friends without number swarmed

into the family hive, and prosperity sang in the music and stepped in the dance and glowed in the wine and ate at the banquet, and all the gods of music and ease and gratification gathered around this Jupiter holding in his hands so many thunderbolts of power. But every sun must set, and the brightest day must have its twilight. Suddenly the sky was overcast. The fountain dried up. The song hushed. The wolf broke into the family fold and carried off the best lamb. A deep howl of woe came crashing down through the joyous symphonies. At once rough twang of the hand of disaster the harp strings all broke. Down went the strong business firm! Away went long established credit! Up flew a flock of calumnies! The new book would not sell. A patent could not be secured for the invention. Stocks sank like lead. The insurance company exploded. "How much," says the sheriff, "will you bid for this piano?" "How much for this library?" "How much for this family picture?" Will the grace of God hold one up in such circumstances? What have become of the great multitude of God's children who have been pounded of the flail and crushed under the wheel and trampled under the hoof? Did they lie down in the dust weeping, wailing and gnashing their teeth? When the rod of fatherly chastisement struck them, did they strike back? Because they found one bitter cup on the table of God's supply, did they upset the whole table? Did they kneel down at their empty money vault and say, "All my treasures are gone?" Did they stand by the grave of their dead saying, "There never will be a resurrection?" Did they bemoan their thwarted plans and say, "The stocks are down--would God I were dead?" Did the night of their disaster come upon them moonless, starless, dark and howling, smothering and choking their life out? No! No! No? At eventime it was light. The swift promises overtook them. The eternal constellations from the circuit about God's throne poured down an infinite luster. Under their shining the billows of trouble took on crests and plumes of gold and jasper and amethyst and flame. All the trees of life rustled in the midsummer air of God's love. The night blooming assurances of Christ's sympathy filled all the atmosphere with heaven. The soul at every step seemed to start up from its feet bright winged joys warbling heavenward. "It is good that I have been afflicted," cries David. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away," exclaims Job. "Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," says St. Paul. "And God shall wipe away all the tears from their eyes," exclaims John in apocalyptic vision. At eventime it was light. Light from the cross! Light from the promises! Light from the throne! Streaming, joyous, outgushing, everlast-

ing light!

The text shall also find fulfillment in the time of old age. It is a grand thing to be young--to have the sight clear and the hearing acute and the step elastic and all our pulses marching on to the drumming of a stout heart. Midlife and old age will be denied many of us, but youth--we all know what that is. Those wrinkles were not always on your brow. That snow was not always on your head. That brawny muscle did not always bunch your arm. You have not always worn spectacles. Grave and dignified as you now are, you once went coasting down the hillside, or threw off your hat for the race, or sent the ball flying sky high. But youth will not always last. It stays only long enough to give us exuberant spirits, and broad shoulders for

burden carrying, and an arm with which to battle our way through difficulties.

Life's path if you follow it long enough will come under frowning crag and across trembling causeway. Blessed old

age if you let it come naturally. You cannot hide it. You may try to cover

the wrinkles, but you cannot cover the wrinkles. If the time has come for you to be old, be not ashamed to be old. The

grandest things in all the universe are old. Old mountains, old rivers, old seas, old stars and an old eternity. Then do not be ashamed to be old unless you are older than the mountains and older than the stars.

How men and women will lie! They say they are 40, but they are 60. They say they are 20, but they are 30. They

say they are 60, but they are 80. How some people will lie! Glorious old age

if found in the way of righteousness! How beautiful the old age of Jacob, leaning on the top of his staff, of John Quin-

cy Adams falling with the harness on, of Washington Irving sitting pen in hand amid the scenes himself had made classical, of John Angell James to the last proclaiming the gospel to the masses of Birmingham, of Theodore Frelingbuysen down to feebleness and emaciation devoting his illustrious faculties to thing kingdom of God. At eventide it was light!

See that you do honor to the aged. A philosopher stood at the corner of the street day after day saying to the pass-

ersby: "You will be an old man. You will be an old man." "You will be an

old woman. You will be an old woman." People thought he was crazy. I do not

think that he was. Smooth the way for that mother's feet--they have not many more steps to take. Steady those tottering limbs--they will soon be at rest. Plow not up that face with any more wrinkles. Trouble and care have marked it full enough. Thrust no thorn into that old heart. It will soon cease to beat. "The eye that mocketh its father and refuseth to obey its mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it." The bright morning and hot noonday of life have passed with many. It is

4 o'clock! 5 o'clock! 6 o'clock! The shadows fall longer and thicker and

faster. Seven o'clock! 8 o'clock! The sun has dipped below the horizon. The

warmth has gone out of the air. Nine o'clock! 10 o'clock! The heavy dews are

falling. The activities of the life's day are all hushed. It is time to go to bed.

Eleven o'clock! 12 o'clock! The patri-

arch sleeps the blessed sleep, the cool sleep, the long sleep. Heaven's messengers of light have kindled bonfires of victory all over the heavens. At eventime it is light--light! My text shall also find fulfillment in the latter days of the church. Only a few missionaries, a few churches, a few good men, compared with the institutions leprous and putrefied. It is early yet in the history of everything good. Civilization and Christian-

ity are just getting out of the cradle. The light of martyr stakes flashing all

up and down the sky is but the flaming of the morning, but when the evening of the world shall come, glory to God's conquering truth, it shall be light. War's

sword clanging back in the scabbard; intemperance buried under 10,000 broken decanters; the world's impurity turn-

ing its brow heavenward for the bene-

diction, "Blessed are the pure in heart;" the last vestige of selfishness submerged in heaven descending charities; all China worshiping Dr. Abeel's Saviour; all India believing in Henry Martyn's Bible; aboriginal superstition acknowledging David Brainerd's piety; human bondage delivered through Thomas Clarkson's Christianity; vagrancy coming back from its pollution at the call of Elizabeth Fry's Redeemer; the mountains coming down; the valleys going up; "holiness" inscribed on horse's bell and silkworm's thread and brown thrasher's wing and shell's tinge and manufacturer's shuttle and chemist's

laboratory and king's scepter and na-

tion's Magna Charta. Not a hospital, for there are no wounds; not an asylum,

for there are no orphans; not a prison, for there are no criminals; not an alms-

house, for there are no paupers; not a tear, for there are no sorrows? The long

dirge of earth's lamentation has ended in the triumphal march of redeemed em-

pires, the forests harping it on vine strung branches, the water chanting it among the gorges, the thunders drum-

ming it among the hills, the ocean giv-

ing it forth with its organs, trade winds touching the keys and euroclydon's foot on the pedal.

I want to see John Howard when the last prisoner is reformed. I want to see

Florence Nightingale when the last saber wound has stopped hurting. I want to see William Penn when the last Indian has been civilized. I want to see John Huss when the last flame of persecution has been extinguished. I want to see John Bunyan after the last pilgrim has come to the gate of the Celestial City. Above all, I want to see Jesus after the

last saint has his throne and begun to sing hallelujah!

You have watched the calmness and the glory of the evening hour. The laborers have come from the field. The heavens are glowing with an indescribable effulgence, as though the sun in departing had forgotten to shut the gate

after it. All the beauty of cloud and leaf swims in the lake. For a star in the

sky, a star in the water--heaven above and heaven beneath. Not a leaf rus-

tling, or a bee humming, or a grasshopper chirping. Silence in the meadows, si-

lence among the hills.

Thus bright and beautiful shall be the evening of the world. The heats of earthly conflict are cooled. The glory of heaven fills all the scene with love and joy and peace. At eventime it is light--light! Finally, my text shall find fulfillment at the end of the Christian's life. You know how short a winter's day is, and

how little work you can do. Now, my friends, life is a short winter's day. The sun rises at 8 and sets at 4. The birth angel and the death angel fly only a little

way apart. Baptism and burial are near together. With one hand the

mother rocks the cradle, and with the other she touches the grave.

I went into the house of one of my parishioners on Thanksgiving day. The

little child of the household was bright and glad, and with it I bounded up and down the hall. Christmas day came, and

the light of that household had perished.

We stood, with black book, reading over the grave. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

But I hurl away this darkness. I can-

not have you weep. Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, at even-

time it shall be light! I have seen many Christians die. I never saw any of them

die in darkness. What if the billows of death do rise above our girdle, who does not love to bathe? What though other lights do go out in the blast, what do we want of them when all the gates of glory swing open before us, and from a myriad voices, a myriad harps, a myriad thrones, a myriad palaces, there dash upon us, "Hosanna! Hosanna!" "Throw back the shutters and let the sun come in," said dying Scoville McCollum, one of my Sabbath school boys. You can see Paul putting on robes and wings of ascension as he exclaims: "I have fought the good fight. I have finished my course. I have kept the faith."

Hugh McKail went to one side of the scaffold of martyrdom and cried: "Fare-

well sun, moon and stars! Farewell all earthly delights!" Then went to the

other side of the scaffold and cried: "Welcome, God and Father! Welcome,

sweet Jesus Christ, the Mediator of the covenant! Welcome death! Welcome glory!"

A minister of Christ in Philadelphia, dying, said in his last moments, "I

move into the light!" They did not go down doubting and fearing and shivering, but their battlecry rang through

all the caverns of the sepulcher and was echoed back from all the thrones of

heaven: "O death! where is thy sting? Oh grave! where is thy victory?" Sing, my soul, of joys to come.

I saw a beautiful being wandering up and down the earth. She touched the

aged, and they became young. She touched the poor, and they became rich.

I said, "Who is this beautiful being, wandering up and down the earth?" They told me that her name was Death. What a strange thrill of joy when the palsied

Christian begins to use his arm again! When the blind Christian begins to see again! When the deaf Christian begins to hear again! When the poor pilgrim puts his feet on such pavement and joins in such company and has a free seat in such a great temple! Hungry men no more to hunger; thirsty men no more to thirst; weeping men no more to weep; dying men no more to die. Gather up all sweet words, all jubilant expressions, all rapturous exclamations. Bring them to me, and I will pour them upon this stupendous theme of the soul's disenthrallment! Oh, the joy of the spirit as it shall mount up toward the throne of God shouting: Free! Free! Your eye has gazed upon the garniture of earth and heaven, but the eye hath not seen it. Your ear has caught harmonies uncounted and indescribable--caught them from harp's trill and bird's carol and waterfall's dash and ocean's doxology, but the ear hath not heard it. How did those blessed ones get up into the light? What hammer knocked

off their chains? What loom wove their robes of light? Who gave them wings?

Ah, eternity is not long enough to tell it: seraphim have not capacity enough to realize it--the marvels of redeeming love! Let the palms wave; let the crowns glitter; let the anthems ascend; let the trees of Lebanon clap their hands--they cannot tell the half of it. Archangel before the throne, thou failest! Sing on, praise on, ye hosts of the glorified. And if with your scepters you cannot reach it and with your songs you cannot express it, then let all the

myriads of the saved unite in the ex-

clamation, "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" There will be a password at the gate of heaven. A great multitude come up and knock at the gate. The gatekeeper says, "The password." They say: "We have no password. We were great on earth, and now we come up to be great in heaven." A voice from within answers, "I never knew you." Another group come up to the gate of heaven and knock. The gatekeeper says, "The password." They say: "We have no pass-

word. We did a great many noble things on earth. We endowed colleges

and took care of the poor." A voice from within says, "I never knew you."

Another group come up to the gate of heaven and knock. The gatekeeper says, "The password." They answer, "We

were wanderers from God and deserved

to die, but we heard the voice of Jesus."

"Aye, aye," said the gatekeeper, "that is the password! Lift up your heads, ye

everlasting gates, and let these people come in." They go in and surround the

throne, jubilant forever.

Ah! do you wonder that the last hours of the Christian on earth are illuminated

by thoughts of the coming glory? Light

in the evening. The medicines may be bitter. The pain may be sharp. The parting may be heartrending. Yet light in the evening. As all the stars of night sink their anchors of pearl in lake and river and sea, so the waves of Jordan shall be illuminated with the down flashing of the glory to come. The dying soul looks up at the constellations. "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?" "The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." Close the eyes of the departed one: earth would seem tame to its enchanted vision. Fold the hands: life's work is

ended. Veil the face: it has been trans-

figured. Mr. Toplady in his dying hour said, "Light." Coming nearer the expiring moment, he exclaimed, with illuminated countenance, "Light." In the last instant of his breathing he lifted up his hands and cried: "Light! Light!" Thank God for light in the evening. Women In the Pulpit. There seems to be no objection what-

ever to woman taking control of Sunday

schools, benevolent institutions, church fairs, festivals and all other means of caring for the flocks and filling the ecclesiastical exchequer, but when it comes to women in the pulpit there is trouble at once. This is only another of the relics of barbarism. In old times of the church could get control of the women and little children they felt pretty sure of their ability to manage the rest of the human family. Half a century ago a woman doctor was scarcely recognized in reputable circles, and a woman lecturer was a monstrosity. Contrasting that date with the present and taking note of the change in sentiment from one decade to another, it is scarcely too much to expect that by

another 50 years we shall see a most wonderful revolution in matters of this

sort. It is safe to predict that before the

end of the first decade of the next century the woman preacher will be no

more of a novelty than the woman doctor now is. Woman is specially fitted for such work, and even were she not so it would be only the strictest kind of justice to give her some of the honor as well as most of the hard work of the church. When once it dawns fully upon the minds of the people of this genera-

tion that there is no sex in intellect or moral achievement, the first and most difficult part of this knotty problem will have been solved. By all means open the pulpit doors to

women as well as those of the Sunday school room, the hospital and the execu-

tive committee.--New York Ledger.

ODDS AND ENDS.

Two per cent of sea water is common salt.

An oyster may carry as many as 2,000,000 eggs.

Remove ink from white goods with a ripe tomato. At Roman feasts all viands were served in hot chafing dishes.

"God keep us from sea, fire and women," say the Sicilians. Rather be called the children's friend than the world's king. The mariner's compass was a Chinese

invention in 1200 B. C.

To be proud and inaccessible is to be

timid and weak.--Massillon.

A heart line in the hand, pale and

broad shows a heartless debauchee. Starfish have the power to change their color to that of surrounding objects. It takes 100 gallons of oil a year to

keep a large sized locomotive in running order. A man sees nothing this side of heaven that he so reverences as he does a good woman. A woman may say sharp words, but

she is sure soon to find that hatred is sharper. A sedentary occupation is to a certain degree unnatural and must be offset by exercise. The bones and muscles of the human body are capable of over 1,200 different movements. Kentucky leads all the other southern states in number of her women school commissioners.

Greek temples erected in honor of the superior deities were always uncovered or open to the sky. No one dies because he does too much work. Many a man dies because he

works the wrong way. According to life insurance statistics, the average of a man's life has increased 5 per cent during the last 25 years. Mount Vernon took its name from Admiral Vernon of the English navy, with whom Lawrence Washington served. If the modern woman does not laugh in her sleeve, it is not because there is no room therein to accommodate the cachinnation.

So small is the thread carried by the spindle of the phonograph that the proc-

ess of threading requires the aid of a mechanical device. So Called Men Milliners. Against tailor cut dresses draped by women we enter no kind of caveat, yet it would seem in the highest degree desirable that the department of millinery

should not be invaded by men. The ad-

vocates of female labor contend, it is true, that men suffer from an incurable incapacity to build bonnets. Commer-

cially they may practically "man milliners," but technically and artistical-

it is only a daughter of Eve who can construct that airy, mysterious and altogether delightful structure, a first rate fashionable bonnet.

An optimist has declared that if a fe-

male of fair capacity, good taste and approved skill as a needlewoman were locked up by herself in a top attic with nothing on her work table but an onion,

a tomato, some bits of colored paper, a few feathers and some red and white

tape and green ferret she would be able in the course of a few hours to construct a most elegant bonnet which, however coarse in texture it might appear to the eye, would photograph in a most picturesque and symmetrical aspect, whereas, were the skillfulest of male artificers intrusted with a similar task and with carte blanche in the way of silk, velvet, plated straw, rare feathers, beads, jet, spangles and artificial flowers, he would not succeed in producing anything beyong a rude, clumsy and ungainly simulacrum of a bonnet. As a maker of hats, equality with if not superiority over the other sex may perhaps be claimed for the man. He invented the lady's hat, he adorned it, he beribboned it, he plumed it and he handed it over to Rubens, Vandyke, Gainsborough and Reynolds to be perpetuated as a monument of masterly skill and elegance in their deathless canvases.--Lon-don Telegraph.

The Sailors Got Seclusion.

Years ago, when the full rigged man-o'-war was "right in line," the Hartford put into Boston harbor and dropped anchor off the Charlestown navy yard

one fine day. The Hartford at that time was as much an object of wonder and

admiration as the gallant New York Boston is today, and visitors flocked aboard her in great numbers. Her captain, an obliging man, made every effort to see that his visitors were well cared for, and personally he showed party aft-

er party over the ship. At the mess hour it was his habit to take the curious

down to the berth deck that they might see how the sailors ate their meals. That was before they had tables on board the vessels of war, and when the mess cloth was spread on the deck. The sailors did not mind this at first, but after a time it became irksome. They came to the conclusion that their privacy was being interfered with, and so finally they decided to put a stop to it. The next time the captain took a party down to show them his happy family as it paid tribute to the inner man

an old salt, the acknowledged leader, reached for a certain bowl. This was the

signal, and forthwith a dozen sunburned, brawny arms were stretched forward to-

ward that self same bowl, and a lively tussle for possession ensued. The cap-

tain stood aghast. Such unseemly con-

duct paralyzed him, but before he could recover there was an apparently vicious

"scrap" going on, and before his visitors too. This was too much for him, and

afterward the sailors partook of their meals uninterrupted.--Boston Globe.

A Cruel Query. Mrs. Watts--Oh, we had such a time at home last night! Mr. Watts thought there was a burglar in the house, and he got his revolver, and it went off, and the ball went right through my hair. Mrs. Potts--Indeed! And were you anywhere in the vicinity when it hap-pened?--Indianapolis Journal. One of Two Beings. The man who can receive into the porches of his ear the maddening "bur-r-r-r!" which the telephone vouchsafes when in devilish humor without murder in his heart and without utter-

ing profane language is too good for this world, or else he is a double dyed, dou-

ble faced hypocrite.--Boston Transcript.

OCEAN CITY A Moral Seaside Resort. Not Excelled as a Health Restorer. Finest facilities for FISHING, Sailing, Gunning, etc.

The Liquor Traffic and its kindred evils are forever pro-

hibited by deed. Every lover of Temperance and Morals should combine to help us.

Water Supply, Railroad, Steamboats And all other Modern Conveniences.

Thousands of lots for sale at various prices, located in all parts of the city.

For information apply to E. B. LAKE, Secretary, Ocean City Asso'n, SIXTH ST. & ASBURY AVE.

W. L. SMITH & SON, Cheap Philadelphia Store. 34th Street and Asbury avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Goods delivered free. Patronage desired.

Flagging & Curbing. GET THE BEST STONE FLAGGING and CURBING.

Never wears out. No second expense. For terms and contracts consult Robert Fisher, my agent for Ocean City. DENNIS MAHONEY.

D. S. SAMPSON, DEALER IN Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, PUMPS, SINKS, &C., Cor. Fourth Street and West Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Tin roofer and sheet-iron worker. All kinds of Stove Casting furnished at short notice. Gas-

oline Stoves a specialty. All work guaranteed as represented.

FINNERTY, McCLURE & CO., DRUGGISTS AND CHEMISTS

112 Market Street, Philadelphia.

Dealers in Pure Drugs, Chemicals, Patent Medicines, Paints, Oils, etc. H. GERLACH & CO., DEALERS IN Clocks, Watches, Jewelry & Diamonds, 2631 Germantown Avenue, PHILADELPHIA, PA.

Watches, Jewelry, etc., skillfully repaired. Articles or orders left with H. Gerlach, Sixteenth and Asbury, Ocean City, will receive prompt attention.

ISRAEL G. ADAMS & CO., Real Estate and Insurance AGENTS, 2031 ATLANTIC AVE. Atlantic City, N. J. Commissioner of Deeds for Pennsylvania. Money to loan on first mortgage. Lots for sale at South Atlantic City.

ST. ALBAN, HOTEL and CAFE, N. W. Cor. Second and Walnut St., PHILADELPHIA. Steam Heated. Modern Improvements. First Class Appointments. Rates Reasonable. Rooms per Night, 50c, 75c, and $1.00. ROBT. M. SNYDER, Manager. WANTED.--On improved property at Ocean City, N. J., $1200 on bond and mortgage. Address "R," Ocean City, N. J.

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 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, Mort-

gages, 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 825. 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 rail-

road 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, Jewelery, 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.