A BOTTLE OF TEARS. DR. TALMAGE CHOOSES A UNIQUE THEME FOR HIS DISCOURSE. A Text That Carries Consolation to the Weary and Heavy Laden--The Griefs and Trials of This World Accrue to Our Glory Hereafter.

BROOKLYN, Aug. 27.--Rev. Dr. De Witt Talmage chose a unique theme as his subject for today--viz, "A Bottle of Tears, the text selected being Psalms lvi, 8. "Put thou my tears into thy bottle." Hardly a mail has come to me for 20 years that has not contained letters saying that my sermons have comforted the writers of those letters. I have not this summer nor for 20 years spoken on the platform of any outdoor meeting but coming down I have been told by hundreds of people the same thing. So I

think I will keep on trying to be a "son of consolation."

The prayer of my text was pressed out of David's soul by innumerable calamities, but it is just as appropriate for the distressed of all ages. Within the past century, travelers and antiquarians have explored the ruins of many of the ancient cities, and from the very heart of those buried splendors of other days have been brought up evidence of customs that long ago vanished from the world. From among tombs of those ages have been brought up lachrymatories, or lachrymals, which are vials made of earthenware. It was custom for the ancients to catch the tears that they wept over their dead in a bottle, and to place that bottle in the graves of the departed, and we have many specimens of the ancient lachrymatories, or tear bottles, in our museums. TEAR BOTTLES FROM CYPRUS. When on the way from the Holy Land our ship touched at Cyprus, we went back into the hills of that island and bought tear bottles which the natives had dug out of the ruins of the old city. There is nothing more suggestive to me than the tear bottles which I brought home and put among my curiosities. That was the kind of bottle that my text alludes do when David cries, "Put thou my tears into thy bottle." The text intimates that God has an intimate acquaintance and perpetual remembrance of all our griefs, and a vial or lachrymatory, or bottle, in which he catches and saves our tears, and I bring to you the condolence of this Christian sentiment. Why talk about grief? Alas, the word has its pangs, and now, while I speak, there are thick darknesses of soul that need to be lifted. There are many who are about to break under the assault of temptation, and perchance, if no words appropriate to their case be uttered, they perish. I come on no fool's errand. Put upon your wounds no salve compounded by human quackery; but, pressing straight to the mark, I hail you as a vessel midsea cries to a passing craft, "Ship ahoy!" and invite you on board a vessel which has faith for a rudder, and prayer for sails, and Christ for captain, and heaven for an eternal har-

bor.

Catherine Rheinfeldt, a Prussian, keeps a boat with which she rescues the drowning. When a storm comes on the coast, and other people go to their beds to rest, she puts out in her boat for the relief of the distressed, and hundreds of the drowning has she brought safely to the beach. In this lifeboat of the gospel I put out today, hoping, by God's help, to bring ashore at least one soul that may now be sinking in the billows of temptation and trouble. The tears that were once caught in the lachrymatories brought up from Herculaneum and Pompeii are all gone, and the bottle is as dry as the scoria of the volcano that submerged them, but not so with the bottle in which God gathers all our tears.

First, I remark that God keeps perpetually the tears of repentance. Many a man has awakened from a night's debauch that he has sobbed and wept. Pains to the head, aching in the eyes, sick at heart and un-

fit to step into the light. He grieves, not about his misdoing, but only about its consequences. God makes no record of such weeping. Of all the million tears

that have gushed as the result of such misdemeanor, not one ever got into

God's bottle. They dried on the fevered cheek or were dashed down by the bloat-

ed hand or fell into the red wine cup as it came again to the lips, foaming with still worse intoxication.

But when a man is sorry for his past and tries to do better--when he mourns his wasted advantages and bemoans his rejection of God's mercy and cries amid the lacerations of an aroused con-

science for help out of his terrible pre-

dicament, then God listens; then heaven bows down; then scepters of pardon are extended from the throne; then his cry-

ing rends the heart of heavenly compas-

sion; then his tears are caught in God's bottle. PARADISE AND THE PERI. You know the story of paradise and the peri. I think it might be put to

higher adaptation. An angel starts from the throne of God to find what thing it

can on earth worthy of being carried back to heaven. It goes down through

the depths of the sea, where the pearls lie, and finds nothing worthy of taking

back to heaven. But coming to the foot of a mountain it sees a wanderer weep-

ing over his evil ways. The tears of the prodigal start, but do not fall to the

ground, for the angel's wing catches them, and with that treasure speeds back to heaven. God sees the angel coming and says, "Behold the brightest gem of earth and the brightest jewel of heaven --the tear of a sinner's repentance.

Oh, when I see the heavenly Shepherd bringing a lamb from the wilderness; when I hear the quick tread of the prodi-

gal hastening home to find his father; when I see a sailor boy coming on the wharf and hurrying away to beg his mother's pardon for long neglect and unkindness; when I see the houseless coming to God for shelter, and the wretched, and the vile, and the sin burned, and the passion blasted appealing for mercy to a compassionate God, I exclaim in ecstasy and triumph, "More tears for God's bottle!"

Again, God keeps a tender remem-

brance of all your sicknesses. How many of you are thoroughly sound in body? Not one out of ten! I do not ex-

aggerate. The vast majority of the race are constant subjects of ailments. There is some one form of disease that you are particularly subject to. You have a weak side or back or are subject to headaches or faintnesses, or lungs sadly distressed. It would not take a very strong blow to shiver the golden bowl of life or break the pitcher at the fountain. Many of you have kept on in life through sheer force of will. You think no one can understand your distresses.

Perhaps you look strong, and it is sup-

posed that you are a hypochondriac. They say you are nervous--as if that

were nothing! God have mercy upon any man or woman that is nervous!

At times you sit alone in your room. Friends do not come. You feel an indescribable loneliness in your sufferings, but God knows; God feels; God compassionates. He counts the sleepless nights. He regards the acuteness of the pain. He estimates the hardness of the breathing. While you pour out the medicine from the bottle and count the drops, God counts all your falling tears. As you look at the vials filled with nauseous drafts and at the bottles of the distasteful tonic that stand on the shelf, remember that there is a larger bottle than these, which is filled with no mixture by earthly apothecaries, but it is God's bottle, in which he hath gathered all our tears. THE SORROWS OF POVERTY. Again, God remembers all the sorrows of poverty. There is much want that never comes to inspection. The deacons of the church never see it. The comptrollers of almshouses never report it. It comes not to church, for it has no appropriate apparel. It makes no appeal for help, but chooses rather to suffer than expose its bitterness. Fathers who fail to gain a livelihood, so that they and their children submit to constant privation; sewing women, who cannot ply the needle quick enough to earn them shelter and bread. But whether reported or uncomplaining, whether in seemingly comfortable parlor, or in damp cellar, or in hot garret, God's angels of mercy are on the watch. This moment those griefs are being collected. Down on the back streets, in all the alleys, amid shanties

and log cabins, the work goes on. Tears of want--seething in summer's heat or

freezing in winter's cold--they fall not unheeded. They are jewels for heaven's casket. They are pledges of divine sympathy. They are tears for God's bottle.

Again, the Lord preserves the remem-

brance of all paternal anxieties. You see a man from the most infamous surroundings step out into the kingdom of God. He has heard no sermon. He has received no startling providential warn-

ing. What brought him to this new mind? This is the secret--God looked

over the bottle in which he gathers the tears of his people, and he saw a parental tear in that bottle which has been for 40 years unanswered. He said, "Go

to, now, and let me answer that tear!" and forthwith the wanderer is brought home to God.

Oh, this work of training children for God! It is a tremendous work. Some people think it easy. They have never tried it. A child is placed in the arms

of the young parent. It is a beautiful plaything. You look into the laughing eyes. You examine the dimples in the feet. You wonder at its exquisite organism. Beautiful plaything! But on some nightfall as you sit rocking that little one a voice seems to fall straight from the throne of God, saying: "That child is immortal! The stars shall die, but that is an immortal! Suns shall grow old with age and perish, but that is an immortal!"

GOD UNDERSTANDS YOUR HEART.

Now, I know with many of you this is the chief anxiety. You earnestly wish

your children to grow up rightly, but you find it hard work to make them do

as you wish. You check their temper. You correct their waywardness; in the midnight your pillow is wet with weeping. You have wrestled with God in agony for the salvation of your children. You ask me if all that anxiety has been ineffectual. I answer, No, God understands your heart. He understands how hard you have tried to make that daughter do right, though she is so very petulant and reckless, and what pains you have bestowed in teaching that son

to walk in the path of uprightness, though he has such strong proclivities for dissipation.

I speak a cheering word. God heard every counsel you ever offered him. God has known all the sleepless nights you have passed. God has seen every sinking of your depressed spirit. God remembers your prayers. He keeps eternal record of your anxieties, and in his lachrymatory--not such as stood in ancient tomb, but in the one that glows and glitters beside the throne of God--he holds all those exhausting tears. The grass may be rank upon your graves and the letters upon your tombstones defaced with the elements before the divine response will come, but he who hath declared, "I will be a God to thee and to thy seed after thee," will not forget, and some day in heaven while you are ranging the fields of light the gates of pearl will swing back, and garlanded with glory that long wayward one will rush into your outstretched arms of welcome and triumph. The hills may depart, and the earth may burn, and the stars fall, and time perish, but God will break his oath and trample upon his promises--never! never! Again, God keeps a perpetual remembrance of all bereavements. These are the trials that cleave the soul and throw the red hearts of men to be crushed in the wine press. Troubles at the store you may leave at the store. Misrepresentation and abuse of the world you may leave on the street where you found them. The lawsuit that would swallow your honest accumulations may be left in the courtroom. But bereavements are home troubles, and there is no escape from them. You will see that vacant chair. Your eye will catch at the suggestive picture. You cannot fly the presence of such ills. You go to Switzerland to get clear of them; but, more sure footed than the

mule that takes you up the Alps, your troubles climb to the tiptop and sit shiv-

ering on the glaciers. You may cross the seas, but they can outsail the swiftest steamer. You may take caravan and put out across the Arabian desert, but they follow you like a simoom, armed with suffocation. You plunge into the Mammoth cave, but they hang like stalactites from the roof of the great cavern. They stand behind with skeleton fingers to push you ahead. They stand before you to throw you back. They run upon you like reckless horsemen.

They charge upon you with gleaming spear. They seem to come haphazard, scattering shots from the gun of a careless sportsman. But not so. It is good aim that sends them just right, for God is the archer.

This summer many of you will espe-

cially feel your grief as you go to places where once you were accompanied by those who are gone now. Your troubles will follow you to the seashore and will keep up with the lightning express in which you speed away. Or, tarrying at home, they will sit beside you by

day and whisper over your pillow night after night. I want to assure you that you are not left alone and that your weeping is heard in heaven.

You will wander among the hills and say, "Up this hill last year, our boy climbed with great glee and waved his cap from the top," or "This is the place where our little girl put flowers in her hair and looked up in her mother's

face," until every drop of blood in your heart tingled with gladness, and you thanked God with a thrill of rapture and you look around as much as to say "Who dashed out that light? Who filled this cup with gall? What blast froze up these fountains of the heart?"

Some of you have lost your parents within the last 12 months. Their prayers for you are ended. You take up their picture and try to call back the kindness that once looked out from those old, wrinkled faces and spoke in such a tremulous voice, and you say it is a good picture, but all the while you feel that, after all, it does not do justice, and you would give almost anything--you would cross the sea; you would walk the earth over--to hear just one word from those

lips that a few months ago used to call you by your first name, though so long you yourself have been a parent.

Now, you have done your best to hide your grief. You smile when you do not feel like it. But though you may deceive the world, God knows. He looks down upon the empty cradle, upon the desolated nursery, upon the stricken home and upon the broken heart, and

says: "This is the way I thrash the wheat; this is the way I scour my jew-

els! Cast thy burden on my arm, and I will sustain you. All those tears I have gathered into my bottle!"

USES OF GOD'S LACHRYMATORY.

But what is the use of having so many tears in God's lachrymatory? In that great casket or vase, why does God pre-

serve all your troubles? Through all the ages of eternity, what use of a great collection of tears! I do not know that

they will be kept there forever. I do not know that in some distant age of heaven an angel of God may look into the bottle and find it as empty of

tears as the lachrymals of earthenware dug up from the ancient city. Where have the tears gone? What sprite of

hell hath been invading God's palace and hath robbed the lachrymatories?

None. These were sanctified sorrows, and those tears were changed into pearls that are now set in the crowns and robes of the ransomed.

I walk up to examine this heavenly coronet, gleaming brighter than the sun and cry, "From what river depths of

heaven were those gems gathered?" and a thousand voices reply, "These are the transmuted tears from God's bottle." I

see scepters of light stretched down from the throne of those who on earth were trod on of men, and in every scepter

point and inlaid in every ivory stair of golden throne I behold an indescribable richness and luster and cry, "From whence this streaming light--these flash-

ing pearls?" and the voices of the elders before the throne, and of the martyrs under the altar, and of the hundred and forty and four thousand radiant on the glassy sea exclaim, "Transmuted tears from God's bottle."

Let the ages of heaven roll on--the story of earth's pomp and pride long ago ended; the kohinoor diamonds that make kings proud, the precious stones that adorned Persian tiara, and flamed in the robes of Babylonian processions

forgotten; the Golconda mines, charred in the last conflagration, but firm as the everlasting hills and pure as the light

that streams from the throne, and bright as the river that flows from the eternal rock, shall gleam, shall sparkle, shall flame forever these transmuted tears of God's bottle.

Meanwhile let the empty lachryma-

try of heaven stand for ever. Let no hand touch it. Let no wing strike it. Let no collision crack it. Purer than

beryl or chrysoprasus. Let it stand on the step of Jehovah's throne and under the arch of the unfading rainbow. Pass-

ing down the corridors of the palace, the redeemed of earth shall glance at it and think of all the earthly troubles from which they were delivered and

say, each to each: "That is what we heard of on earth." "That is what the psalmist spoke of." "There once were put our tears." "That is God's bottle."

And while standing there inspecting this richest inlaid vase of heaven the towers of the palace dome strike up this silvery chime: "God hath wiped away all tears from all faces. Wherefore comfort one another with these words."

Blunder Worse Than Guilt.

There are some penalties on innocent acts essential to human safety, and the

signaler whose failure has destroyed a train must be punished, even though,

when he pleads that he was in a "dwam," he is to his own mind telling the simple and sufficient truth. Nature is even harder on blunder than on guilt, and though man has no right to be as stern as nature, which, for example, executed a dynamiter at Madrid--not for his intention to murder, but for his carelessness in dropping his bomb--still, there are points upon which he must be nearly as hard.--London Spectator.

Colonel North's Strong Room. Colonel North is said to have at Eltham one of the strongest of strong rooms probably in the world. Not only is his gold and silverware stored here, but lady visitors to Eltham are provided for, special arrangements being made for "taking care" of their jewels during the night. The "room" is floored with cement and walled all round with weighty granite. To get into its interior you must pass through many gates, all fitted up with burglar alarms. The treasures are kept in iron cages, and the "room" is 30 feet under ground.--London Tit-Bits.

The Difference.

Two soldiers lay under their blankets looking up at the stars. Says Jack,

"What made you go into the army, Tom?" "Well," replied Tom, "I had no wife and I loved war, Jack, so I went. What made you go?" "Well," returned Jack, "I had a wife and I loved peace, Tom, so I went."--Chicago Inter Ocean.

Georgia's Fame and Fortune.

Georgia's melon crop this year is esti-

mated to be worth nearly $250,000 to the farmers, and perhaps $100,000 to the railroads in the state. The state's crops

will run up to 8,000 carloads, it is said, and at $60 a car the farmers will get almost $250,000.--Atlanta Constitution.

COLONEL PHILLIPS' SPECTACLES.

Story of Their Use as Related by the Big Hairy Man From the Prairies. "The way you Chicago people look at things reminds me of my old friend, Colonel John Phillips."

The speaker was a large, hairy man, with a big slouch hat and a voice evi-

dently better adapted to the acoustic properties of the prairies than the smoking room. He appeared to realize this as he glanced around and saw every man in the room looking toward him, some smiling, some scowling. "Tell us about your friend, the colonel," suggested a real estate agent who had the hairy giant on the string for a big cash trade. "Why," continued the big man with the prairie voice, "Phillips saw everything that belonged to him big and everything belonging to me small"--"That's human nature--" the agent was suggesting, but the prairie man interrupted with: "No, 'twan't no human nature. 'Twas spectacles! He got 'em made in this town. I believe you people all wear 'em too." "What peculiar properties did your friend's spectacles possess?" asked a curious listener. "Just as I've said. They made his property loom up in regular Chicago

World's fair fashion, but squashed other people's stuff worse'n a Zimri Dwiggins bank"--

"How could he do this?"

"Why, the blamed lenses worked on an axis and showed things telescope fashion, you know. S'pose there was a horse trade up; he'd let you look at your own horse through the ordinary little end of his glasses, but when you came to look at his he'd get at his specks again under some pretext--just flipping 'em over the magnifying way--and you'd see a magnificent animal. It was the same way

with houses, tracts of land, wheatfields, changing money--anything. Once you looked through his glasses at anything, you were his victim, for you felt as if you couldn't live until you'd traded just as Phillips wanted you to. But he met

his reward. He tried a bluff game on big Buffalo Jones of Arizona, to whom he had by that spectacled jugglery sold

100 jackass rabbits for burrows, and looked at big Jones' six gun through the little end of his glasses, trying to put him down small, you know. But, alas, it didn't work!"

"What happened?" asked the agent. "Big Jones' gun went off repeatedly just as Colonel Phillips was adjusting his glasses. It was as well perhaps," continued the prairie man, dropping his voice so low that the bellowing of tugs in the river and lake could again be

heard, "for my friend had acquired such a habit of trying to talk up to the magnifying side of these glasses that his

long enjoyed reputation for veracity was entirely sp'iled. We buried him at Big Jones' expense, and to prevent a recurrence of such a tragedy I took pos-

session of the spectacles, and"--

"Whatever became of them?" asked a hungry looking man who had gone broke on a World's fair hotel scheme. "I now wear 'em myself," said the big, hairy prairie man.--Chicago Tribune.

Effect of Paris Life on American Students. An American artist of considerable reputation, while speaking the other day with reference to the easy going Bohe-

mian habits so common among men in his profession, said: "It is not a pleasant

thing to say, but I believe it is true that a period of two or three years of student

life in Paris practically ruins about as many young artists as it benefits. Stu-

dent life in Europe, and especially in Paris, is full of allurements and temptations which only those capable of great self control are able to resist. It is in its social aspects a delightfully free and easy sort of life, which appeals almost irre-

sistibly to the average young man. It develops the habit of indolence with

frightful rapidity, and from indolence it is but a short step to indifference, dissipation and reckless self neglect. Con-

vivial associations and the gay company of a colony made of kindred spirits as

bright and magnetic as himself too often put his ambitions to sleep, and he drifts on and on until he becomes a spendthrift and a lounger, if nothing worse. At the

end of two or three years he returns to America, his money spent, his health frequently shattered and himself so thor-

oughly bohemianized that he finds it difficult if not impossible ever to regain anything of the orderly, methodical habit of industry upon which his professional success depends."--New York Herald.

This Frog Weighed a Ton.

The labyrinthodon, a huge creature resembling a toad or a frog, and which lived in the earlier periods of our planet's history, has been found in a surprising

state of preservation in the marl beds of Huezelweitz, Hungary. All species of

this gigantic frog are now extinct and are known to the naturalists only through the investigations of the geologists, who have often found parts or entire fossils of the monster in strata of the triassic portion of the mesozoic period. South-

wick mentions it in a three line entry in his "Quizzism and Key," under the head "A Frog as Large as an Ox," and in Barnett's "Geological Epochs" it is considered in a chapter on "Huge Froglike Creatures of the Mesozoic Age." The specimen unearthed in the Hungarian marl bed is entire with the exception of the left forearm and the lower jaw. The skull measures 18 inches between the eye sockets and weighs, exclusive of the missing underjaw, 812 pounds. The bones which have been dis-

covered up to date (and there is still hopes of finding the missing parts), with the adhering matrix, weigh 1,800 pounds, almost a ton.--St. Louis Republic.

The Jury Suited the Lawyer.

A Chicago attorney, somewhat noted for his sharp practice, sent his client one day to watch the case. Word came to him that his case was next on the docket,

and he hurried over to find the opposing counsel already beginning. In vain he

looked for his client. He was nowhere to be seen. In vain he asked for delay, but the court told him that the careless-

ness of a client would not allow such a thing. At last he glanced into the jury box and saw his client there.

The stupid man had thought he heard his name called and had marched in with the rest. The opposing counsel was

so anxious to hurry the case along that he neglected to examine the jury. See-

ing the thing was in his own hands, the Chicago attorney turned to the court. "I withdraw all objection," he said. "I have my client where I want him."--Green Bag.

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 prohibited 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. 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. Gasoline 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.

D. GALLAGHER, DEALER IN FINE FURNITURE, 43 So. Second St., PHILADELPHIA, PA.

WM. E. KERN. Civil Engineer AND Surveyor, Steelmanville, N. J.

Special attention given to complicated surveys.

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 AND LOWEST MARKET PRICES. FRONT AND FEDERAL STREETS, CAMDEN, N. J.

HOTEL BRIGHTON,

R. R. SOOY, Proprietor. SEVENTH AND OCEAN AVENUE OCEAN CITY, NEW JERSEY. FIRST-CLASS HOUSE. DIRECTLY ON THE BEACH.

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.

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 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.