THE BARE ARM OF GOD. REV. DR. TALMAGE'S IMPRESSIVE SER-

MON AT THE TABERNACLE.

"The Lord Hath Made Bare His Holy Arm"--A Wonderful Reserve of Power, Achievements without Effort--On the Winning Side.

BROOKLYN, Jan. 21.--Singularly appropriate and impressive was the old gospel hymn as it was sung this morning by the thousands of Brooklyn Tabernacle, led on by cornet and organ:

Arm of the Lord, awake, awake! Put on thy strength, the nations shake.

Rev. Dr. Talmage took for his subject, "The Bare Arm of God," the text being Isaiah lii, 10, "The Lord hath made bare his holy arm."

It almost took our breath away to read some of the Bible imagery. There is such boldness of metaphor in my text that I have been for some time getting my courage up to preach from it. Isa-

iah, the evangelistic prophet, is sound-

ing the jubilants of our planet redeemed and cries out, "The Lord hath made bare his holy arm." What overwhelming suggestiveness in that figure of speech, "The bare arm of God!" The people of Palestine to this day wear much hindering apparel, and when they want to run a special race, or lift a special burden, or fight a special battle, they put off the outside apparel, as in our land when a man proposes a special exertion he puts off his coat and rolls up his sleeves. Walk through our foundries, our machine shops, our mines, our factories, and you will find that most of the toilers have their coats off and their sleeves rolled up. Isaiah saw that there must be a tremendous amount of work done before this world becomes what it ought to be, and he foresees it all accomplished, and

accomplished by the Almighty, not as we ordinarily think of him, but by the Almighty with the sleeve of his robe rolled back to his shoulder, "The Lord hath made bare his holy arm."

THE CREATION OF LIGHT. Nothing more impresses me in the Bible than the ease with which God does most things. There is such a reserve of power. He has more thunderbolts than he has ever flung, more light than he has ever distributed, more blue

than that which he has overarch-

ed the sky, more green than that with which he has emeralded the grass, more crimson than that with which he has burnished the sunsets. I say it with reverence, from all I can see, God has never half tried.

You know as well as I do that many of the most elaborate and expensive industries of our world have been employed in creating artificial light. Half

of the time the world is dark. The moon and the stars have their glorious uses, but as instruments of illumination they are failures. They will not allow you to read a book or stop the ruffianism of your great cities. Had not the darkness been persistently fought back by artificial means, the most of the world's enterprises would have halted half the time, while the crime of our great municipalities would for half the

time run rampant and unrebuked; hence all the inventions for creating artificial light, from the flint struck against steel in centuries past to the dynamo of our electrical manufactories.

What uncounted numbers of people at work the year round in making chan-

deliers and lamps and fixtures and wires and batteries where light shall be made, or along which light shall run, or where light shall poise! How many bare arms of human toil--and some of those bare arms are very tired --in the creation of light and its ap-

paratus, and after all the work the greater part of the continents and hemispheres at night have no light at all, except perhaps the fireflies flashing their small lanterns across the swamp.

MADE WITH HIS FINGERS. But see how easy God made the light. He did not make bare his arm; he did not even put forth his robed arm; he did not lift so much as a finger. The flint out of which he struck the noonday sun was the word, "Light." "Let there be light!" Adam did not see the sun until the fourth day, for, though the sun was created on the first day, it took its rays from the first to the fourth day to work through the dense mass of fluids by which this earth was compassed. Did you ever hear of anything so easy as that? So unique? Out

of a word came the blazing sun, the father of flowers, and warmth and light! Out of a word building a fireplace for all the nations of the earth to warm themselves by! Yes, seven other worlds, five of them inconceivably larger than our own, and 79 asteroids, or worlds on a smaller scale! The warmth and light for this great brotherhood, great sisterhood, great family of worlds, 87 larger or smaller worlds, all from that one magnificent fireplace, made out of the one word--Light.

The sun 886,000 miles in diameter, I do not know how much grander a solar system God could have created if he had put forth his robed arm, to say nothing of an arm made bare! But this I know, that our noonday sun was a spark struck from the anvil of one word, and that word "Light."

"But," says some one, "do you not think that in making the machinery of the universe, of which our solar system is comparatively a small wheel working into mightier wheels, it must have cost God some exertion? The upheaval of an arm either robed or an

arm made bare?" No; we are distinctly told otherwise. The machinery of a universe God made simply with his fingers. David, inspired in a night song, says so--"When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers."

THE TESTIMONY OF DAVID. A Scottish clergyman told me a few weeks ago of dyspeptic Thomas Carlyle walking out with a friend one starry night, and as the friend looked up and said, "What a splendid sky!" Mr. Carlyle replied as he glanced upward,

"Sad sight, sad sight!" Not so thought David as he read the great Scripture of the night heavens. It was a sweep of embroidery, of vast tapestry, God manipulated. That is the allusion of the psalmist to the woven hangings of tapestry as they were known long before David's time. Far back in the ages what enchantment of thread and color,

the Florentine velvets of silk and gold and Persian carpets woven of goats' hair! If you have been in the Gobelin manufactory of tapestry in Paris--alas, now no more!--you witnessed wondrous things as you saw the wooden needle or broach going back and forth and in and out; you were transfixed with admiration at the patterns wrought. No wonder that Louis SIV bought it, and it became the possession of the throne, and for a long while none but thrones and palaces might have any of its work!

What triumphs of loom! What victory of skilled fingers! So David says of the heavens that God's fingers wove into

them the light; that God's fingers tapestried them with stars; that God's fingers embroidered them with worlds.

How much of the immensity of the heavens David understood I know not.

Astronomy was born in China 2,800 years before Christ was born. During the reign of Hoang-Ti astronomers were put to death if they made the wrong calcu-

lations about the heavens. Job under-

stood the retraction of the sun's rays and said they were "turned as the clay to the seal." The pyramids were as-

tronomical observatories, and they were so long ago built that Isaiah refers to one of them in his nineteenth chapter and calls it the "pillar at the border."

The first of all the sciences born was astronomy. Whether from knowledge already abroad or from direct inspira-

tion, it seems to me David had wide knowledge of the heavens. Whether he understood the full force of what he wrote, I know not, but the God who inspired him knew, and he would not let David write anything but truth, and therefore all the worlds that the telescope ever reached or Copernicus or Galilei or Kepler or Newton or Laplace or Herschel or our own Mitchell ever saw were so easily made that they were made with the fingers. As easily as with your fingers you mold the wax,

or the clay, or the dough to particular shapes, so he decided the shape of our world, and that it should weigh six sextillion tons and appointed for all the worlds their orbits and decided their color--the white to Sirius, the ruddy to Aldebaran, the yellow to Pollux, the blue to Altair, marrying some of the stars, as the 2,400 double stars that Herschel observed, administering to the whims of the variable stars as their glance becomes brighter or dim, preparing what astronomers called, "the girdle of Andromeda" and the nebula in the sword handle of Orion. Worlds on worlds! Worlds under worlds!

Worlds above worlds! Worlds beyond worlds! So many that arithmetics are of no use in the calculation! But he counted them as he made them, and he made them with his fingers! Reservation of power! Suppression of omnipotence! Resources as yet untouched! Almightiness yet undemonstrated! Now I ask, for the benefit of all disheartened Christian workers, if God accomplished so much with his fingers, what can he do when he puts out all his strength and when he unlimbers all the batteries of his omnipotence? The Bible speaks again and again of God's outstretched arm, but only once, and that in the text of the bare arm of God.

A GREAT UNDERTAKING.

My text makes it plain that the rec-

tification of this world is a stupendous undertaking. It takes more power to make this world over again than it took to make it at first. A word was only

necessary for the first creation, but for the new creation the unsleeved and unhindered forearm of the Almighty! The reason of that I can understand. In the shipyards of Liverpool of Glasgow or New York a great vessel is constructed. The architect draws out the plan, the length of the beam, the capacity of tonnage, the rotation of wheel or screw, the cabin, the masts and all the appointments of this great palace of the deep. The architect finishes his work without any perplexity, and the carpenters and the artisans toil on the craft so many hours a day, each one doing his part, until with flags flying, and thousands of people huzzaing on the docks, the vessel is launched. But on the sea that steamer breaks her shaft and is limping slowly along toward harbor, when Caribbean whirlwinds, those mighty hunters of the deep, looking out

for prey of ships, surround that wounded vessel and pitch it on a rocky coast, and she lifts and falls in the breakers until every joint is loose, and every spar is down, and every wave sweeps over the hurricane deck as she parts midships.

Would it not require more skill and power to get that splintered vessel off the rocks and reconstruct it than it required originally to build her? Aye! Our world that God built so beautiful, and which started out with all the flags of Edenic foliage and with the chant of paradisaical bowers, has been 60 centuries pounding in the skerries of sin and sorrow, and to get her out, and to get her off, and to get her on the right way again will require more of omnipotence than it required to build her and launch her. So I am not surprised that though in the drydock of one word our world was made it will take the unsleeved arm of God to lift her from the rocks and put her on the right course again. It is evident from my text and its comparison with other texts that it would not be so great an undertaking to make a whole constellation of worlds, and a whole galaxy of worlds, and a whole astronomy of worlds, and swing them in their right orbits as to take this wounded world, this stranded world, this bankrupt world, this destroyed world, and make it as good as when it started. EVILS TO OVERCOME. Now, just look at the enthroned difficulties in the way the removal of which, the overthrow of which, seem to require the bare right arm of omnipotence.

There stands heathenism, with its 860,-

000,000 victims. I do not care whether you call them Brahmans or Buddhists, Confucians or fetich idolators. At the World's Fair in Chicago last summer those monstrosities of religion tried to make themselves respectable, but the long hair and baggy trousers and trinketed robes of their representatives cannot hide from the world the fact that those religions are the authors of funeral pyre, and juggernaut crushing, and Ganges infanticide, and Chi-

nese shoe torture, and the aggregated massacres of many centuries. They have their heels on India, on China, on Persia, on Borneo, on three-fourths of the acreage of our poor old world.

I know that the missionaries, who are the most sacrificing and Christlike men and women on earth, are making steady and glorious inroads upon these built up abominations of the centuries. All this stuff that you see in some of the newspapers about the missionaries as living in luxury and idleness is promulgated by corrupt American or Eng-

lish or Scotch merchants, whose loose behavior in heathen cities has been re-

buked by the missionaries, and these corrupt merchants write home or tell innocent and unsuspecting visitors in India or China or the darkened islands of the sea these falsehoods about our consecrated missionaries, who, turning their backs on home and civilization and emolument and comfort, spend their lives in trying to introduce the mercy of the gospel among the down-

trodden of heathenism. Some of those merchants have their families in America or England or Scotland and stay for a few years in the ports of heathenism

while they are making their fortunes in the tea or rice or opium trade, and while they are thus absent from home give themselves to orgies of dissolute-

ness such as no pen or tongue could, without the abolition of all decency, attempt to report. The presence of the missionaries, with their pure and noble households, in those heathen ports is a constant rebuke to such debauchees and miscreants. If satan should visit heaven, from which he was once roughly but justly expatriated, and he should write home to the realms pandemoniac, his correspondence published in Diabolos Gazette or Apollyonic News, about what he had seen, he would report the temple of God and the Lamb as a broken down church, and the house of many mansions as a disreputable place, and the cherubim as suspicious of mortals. Sin never did like holiness, and you had better not depend upon satanic report of the sublime and multipotent work of our missionaries in foreign

lands. But notwithstanding all that these men and women of God have achieved, they feel and we all feel that if the idolatrous lands are to be Chris-

tianized there needs to be a power from the heavens that has not yet condescended, and we feel like crying out in the words of Charles Wesley: Arm of the Lord, awake, awake! Put on thy strength, the nations shake! Aye, it is not only the Lord's arm that is needed, the holy arm, the outstretched arm, but the bare arm! AN ECCLESIASTICAL JOKE. There, too, stands Mohammedanism, with its 176,000,000 victims. Its Bible is the Koran, a book not quite as large as our New Testament, which was re-

vealed to Mohammed when in epileptic fits, and resuscitated from these fits he dictated it to scribes. Yet it is read today by more people than any other book ever written. Mohammed, the founder of that religion, a polygamist,

with superfluity of wives, the first step of his religion on the body, mind and soul of woman, and no wonder that the heaven of the Koran is an everlasting Sodom, an infinite seraglio, about which Mohammed promises that each follower shall have in that place 72 wives, in addition to all the wives he had on earth, but that no old woman shall ever enter heaven. When a bishop of England recently proposed that the best way of saving Mohammadans was to let them keep their religion, but engraft upon it some new principles from Christianity, he perpetuated an ecclesiastical joke, at which no man can laugh who has ever seen the tyranny and domestic wretchedness which always appear where that religion gets foothold. It has marched across continents and now proposes to set up its filthy and accursed banner in America, and what it has done for Turkey it would like to do for our nation. A religion that brutally treats womanhood ought never to be fostered in our country. But there never was a religion so absurd or wicked that it did not get disciples, and there are enough fools in America to make a large discipleship of Mohammedanism. This corrupt religion has been making steady progress for hundreds of years, and notwithstanding all

the splendid work one by the Jessups, and the Goodells, and the Blisses, and the Van Dykes, and the Posts, and the Misses Bowens, and the Misses Thomp-

sons, and scores of other men and women of whom the world was not worthy, there it stands, the giant of sin, Mohammendanism, with one foot on the heart of woman and the other on the heart of Christ, while it mumbles from its minarets this stupendous blasphemy: "God is great, and Mohammed is his prophet." Let the Christian printing presses at Beyroot and Constantinople keep on with their work and the men and women of God in the mission fields toil until the Lord crowns them, but what we are all hoping for is something supernatural from the heavens, as yet unseen, something stretched down out of the skies, something like an arm uncovered, the bare arm of the God of nations! THE NIAGARA OF INEBRIETY. There stands also the arch demon of alcoholism. Its throne is white and made of bleached human skulls. On one side of that throne of skulls kneels in obeisance and worship democracy, and on the other side republicanism, and the one that kisses the cancerous and gangrened foot of this despot the oftenest gets the most benedictions. There is a Hudson river, an Ohio, a Mississippi of strong drink rolling through this nation, but as the rivers from which I take my figure of speech empty into the Atlantic or the gulf this mightier flood of sickness and insanity and domestic ruin and crime and bankruptcy and woe empties into the hearts, and the homes, and the churches, and the time, and the eternity of a multitude beyond all statistics to number or describe. All nations are mauled and scarified with baleful stimulus, or killing narcotic. The pulque of Mexico, the cashew of Brazil, the hasheesh of Persia, the opium of China, the guavo of Honduras, the wedro of Russia, the soma of India, the aguardiente of Mo-

rocco, the arak of Arabia, the mastic of Syria, the raki of Turkey, the beer of Germany, the whisky of Scotland, the ale of England, the all drinks of America, are doing their best to stupefy, inflame, dement, impoverish, brutalize and slay the human race. Human power, unless re-enforced from the heavens, can never extirpate the evils I mention.

Much good has been accomplished by the heroism and fidelity of Christian reformers, but the fact remains that there are more splendid men and magnificent women this moment going over the Ni-

agara abysm of inebriety than at any time since the first grape was turned into wine and the first head of rye be-

gan to soak in a brewery. When people touch this subject, they are apt to give statistics as to how many millions are in drunkards' graves, or with quick tread marching toward them. The land is full of talk of high tariff and low tariff, but what about the highest of all tariffs in this country, the tariff of $900,000,000 which rum put upon the United States in 1891, for that is what it cost us? You do not tremble or turn pale when I say that. The fact is we have become hardened by statistics, and they make little impression.

But if some one could gather into one mighty lake all the years that have been wrung out of orphanage and widow-

hood, or into one organ diapason all the groans that have been uttered by the suffering victims of this holocaust, or into one whirlwind all the sighs of cen-

turies of dissipation, or from the wicket of one immense prison have look upon us the glaring eyes of all those whom

strong drink has endungeoned, we might perhaps realize the appalling desolation. But, no, no, the sight would forever blast our vision; the sound would forever stun our souls. Go on with your temperance literature; go on with your temperance platforms;

go on with your temperance laws. But we are all hoping for something from above, and while the bare arm of suffering, and the bare arm of invalidism, and the bare arm of poverty, and the bare arm of domestic desolation, from which rum hath torn the sleeve, are

lifted up in beggary and supplication and despair, let the bare arm of God strike the breweries, and the liquor

stores, and the corrupt politics, and the license laws, and the whole inferno of grogshops all around the world. Down, thou accursed bottle, from the throne!

Into the dust, thou king of the demijohn! Parched be thy lips, thou wine cup, with fires that shall never be quenched!

PLENTY OF AMMUNITION.

But I have no time to specify the manifold evils that challenge Christianity. And I think I have seen in some Christians, and read in some newspapers, and heard from some pulpits a disheartenment, as though Christianity

were so worsted that it is hardly worth while to attempt to win this world for God, and that all Christian work would collapse, and that it is no use for you to teach a Sabbath class, or distribute tracts, or exhort in prayer meetings, or preach in a pulpit, as satan is gaining ground. To rebuke that pessimism, the gospel of smashup, I preach this sermon, showing that you are on the wining side. Go ahead! Fight on! What I want to make out today is that our ammunition is not exhausted; that all which has been accomplished has been only the skirmishing before the great Armageddon; that not more than one of the thousand fountains of beauty in the King's park has begun to play; that not more than one brigade

of the innumerable hosts to be mar-

shaled by the rider on the white horse has yet taken the field; that what God has done yet has been with arm folded in flowing robe, but that the time is coming when he will rise from his throne, and throw off that robe, and come out of the palaces of eternity, and come down the stairs of heaven with all conquering step, and halt in the presence of expectant nations, and flashing his omniscient eyes across the work to be done will put back the sleeve of his right arm to the shoulder, and roll it up there, and for the world's final and complete rescue make bare his arm. Who can doubt the result when according to my text Jehovah does his best; when the last reserve force of omnipotence takes the field; when the last sword of eternal might leaps from its scabbard? Do you know what decided the battle of Sedan? The hills a thousand feet high. Eleven hundred cannons on the hills. Artillery on the heights of Givonne, and 12 German batteries on the heights of La Moncello. The crown

prince of Saxony watched the scene from the heights of Mairy. Between a quarter to 6 o'clock in the morning and

1 o'clock in the afternoon of Sept. 2, 1870, the hills dropped the shells that shattered the French host in the valley. The French emperor and the 86,000 of his army captured by the hills. So in this conflict now raging between holiness and sin "our eyes are unto the hills."

A GREAT VICTORY. Down here in the valleys of earth we must be valiant soldiers of the cross, but the Commander of our host walks the heights and views the scene far better than we can in the valleys, and at the right day and the right hour all heaven will open its batteries on our

side, and the commander of the hosts of unrighteousness with all his followers will surrender, and it will take eternity to fully celebrate the universal victory

through our Lord Jesus Christ. "Our eyes are unto the hills." It is so cer-

tain to be accomplished that Isaiah in my text looks down through the field glass of prophecy and speaks of it as already accomplished, and I take my

stand where the prophet took his stand and look at it as all done. "Hallelujah, 'tis done." See! Those cities without a tear! Look! Those continents without a pang. Behold! Those hemi-

spheres without a sin! Why, those deserts, Arabian desert, American desert, and Great Sahara desert, are all irrigated into gardens where God walks in the cool of the day. The atmosphere that encircles our globe floating not one groan. All the rivers and lakes and oceans dimpled with not one falling tear. The climates of the earth have dropped out of them the rigors of the cold and the blasts of the heat, and it is universal spring! Let us change the

old world's name. Let it no more be called the earth, as when it was reeking with everything pestiferous and malevolent, scarleted with battlefields and gashed with graves, but now so

changed, so aromatic with gardens, and so resonant with song, and so rubescent with beauty, let us call it Immanuel's Land or Beulah or millennial gardens

or paradise regained or heaven! And to God, the only wise, the only good, the only great, be glory forever. Amen.

Cost of British Defenses. The British empire spends, as a rule, upon defense from $250,000,000 to $280,000,000 a year, of which the military expenditure of India, with the indirect expenditure for the sake of India on the mobile land forces at home, forms the largest item. Almost the whole of this vast sum is expended out of British loans or taxes under the control of the parliament of the United Kingdom, and out of India taxes under the indirect control of the house of commons through the secretary of state, who is a member of the government of the day.--North American Review. A button of supposedly great age, bearing in the center the initials "G. W.," and around them the motto "Long Live the President," is a recent find at Matters Station, Md., by J. P. Wises. Encircling the edge are the names of the 13 original states.

ODDS AND ENDS.

Broadcloth took its name from its unusual width. The Matabeles, it is said, always slay their prisoners. Formerly the small letter "i" was written without a dot. The coal cargo of the Scotch ship Ada Iredale, which was abandoned at sea, burned for a year. Ireland has 156,000 houses of one room each, 357,000 of two to four rooms and 304,000 of five or more. A man of about 80, who has shaved regularly during his lifetime, sacrifices to the razor about 35 feet of hair.

I never see an old man that he does not cause me to shudder; he seems so neglected and helpless and hopeless.--Parson Twine.

Education is making great strides in Kentucky, one of whose teachers, James Banes, lives in Elizabeth, Ind., and walks 13 miles to and from school daily. More than 50,000,000 pounds of chewing tobacco are made every year in St. Louis, which claims to be the greatest manufacturing center of tobacco in the world. The state of Michigan is said to produce more than one-half of all the oil of peppermint, spearmint and tansy used in the entire world. St. Joseph county is the center of this industry.

In 1800 France had a national debt of 714,000,000 francs; Napoleon ran the sum up to 1,272,000,000. Under the third republic in 1889 the debt was 21,251,000,000 francs, mostly contracted by wars.

William Penn's grave is in the churchyard of the little meeting house at Jordans, in Buckinghamshire, England, and Quakers hold a service there annually in memory of the founder of Pennsylvania.

A schoolteacher who had been telling the story of David ended with, "And all this happened over 3,000 years ago." A little cherub, its blue eyes opening wide with wonder, said, after a moment's thought, "Oh, dear, sir, what a memory you have got!"

The Story of a Bell.

In the church tower of the little town of Grosslaswitz, in the north of Ger-

many, hangs a bell, and on it is engraved its history, surmounted by a bas-relief

representing a six eared stalk of corn and the date, Oct. 15, 1729. This is the

story of the bell: At the beginning of the last century the only church bell at

Grosslaswitz was so small that its tones were not sufficient to penetrate to the ends of the village. A second bell was badly wanted, but the village was poor, and where was the money to come from?

Every one offered to give what he could, but the united offerings did not amount to nearly enough for the purpose.

One Sunday when the schoolmaster, Gottfried Hayn, was going to church he noticed growing out of the churchyard wall a flourishing green stalk of corn, the seed of which must have been dropped there by a passing bird. The idea sud-

denly struck him that perhaps this one stalk of corn could be made the means of producing the second bell they want-

ed so much. He waited till the corn was ripe, and then he plucked the six ears on it and sowed them in his own garden.

The next year he gathered the little crop thus produced and sowed it again, till at last he had not enough room in his garden for the crop, so he divided it among a certain number of farmers, who went on sowing the ears until in the eighth year the crop was so large that when it was put together they and sold they found that they had enough money to buy a beautiful bell, with its story and its birthday engraved upon it and a cast of the cornstalk to which it owed its existence.--London Globe.

She Silenced Depew.

Some of the best of Chicago's postprandial speakers are of the clergy, and one of the brightest of all of them is Rev. P. S. Henson, the popular pastor of the First Baptist church. At a dinner not long ago he was called upon without any warning, and he acquitted himself as cleverly as he always does under such circumstances. He incidentally referred to great men who had been spoiled, like children, by being made much of, and he stated that the only great man who had not been spoiled by being "lionized" was Daniel.

Dr. Henson referred in this connec-

tion, too, to Dr. Chauncey M. Depew, the silver tongued New Yorker, who speaks best after he has lost his appetite, and of him he told a story. Dr. Depew, he said, was in attendance at a Baptist so-

cial affair once upon a time, and he had a seat next to a good sister, whom he at-

tempted to patronize. "Do you know, madam," he said to her between courses, "I came very near being a Baptist myself." The lady expressed mild surprise, and Dr. Depew proceeded to make it a little stronger. "Yes, I narrowly escaped immersion once," he said. "Indeed," said the lady. "Why, Dr. De-

pew, I never thought you could disappear from the public gaze long enough for that," whereat Dr. Depew busied himself with the next course and forever after held his peace--on that occasion at least.--Chicago Post.

A Friend of the Family.

Mr. Arthur Gilman of Cambridge tells the following story: "You know there was a picture of Mr. Longfellow's children that was copied a good deal which was taken in such a way that the arms of one of the little girls did not show,

and so it was told a good deal that she had no arms. One day Mr. Lowell was in a car going by Mr. Longfellow's house, and near him were three women seeing the sights.

"One of them was explaining things to the others, and after pointing out the house she said, 'You know one of Longfellow's children had no arms.' Mr. Lowell thought that story had gone about far enough, so he said, 'Excuse me, madam,' and told her Mr. Longfellow's children all had the usual number of arms. She turned on him with a sniff and a little toss of her head and said: 'One of them has no arms, sir. I had it from a friend of the family.'"--Boston Transcript.

Chinamen to the number of 13,179 have registered so far, while 95,821 have not. Seven hundred and twelve Mongolians residing in Pennsylvania are among those who have registered.

An English showman advertised a "transparent balloon headed baby,"

which turned out to be a baby with water on the brain hired for show purposes from a gin loving mother.

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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 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.

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.

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.