A VISION OF HEAVEN. REV. DR. TALMAGE'S ELOQUENT SERMON AT THE TABERNACLE.

He Dreams a Marvelous Dream of Heaven and Describes What He Saw There--The Saints Who Are Great In Heaven--Names Not In the Directory. BROOKLYN, Feb. 4.--In the Brooklyn Tabernacle this forenoon the hymns, the Scripture lesson and the prayers, as well as the sermon, were about the future world more than about this world. Rev. Dr. Talmage took for his subject "A Vision of Heaven," the text being Ezekiel i. 1, "Now it came to pass as I was among the captives by the river of Chebar that the heavens were opened and I saw visions of God." Expatriated and in far exile, on the banks of the river Chebar, an affluent of the Euphrates, sat Ezekiel. It was there he had an immortal dream, and it is given to us in the Holy Scriptures. He dreamed of Tyre and Egypt. He dreamed of Christ and the coming heaven. This exile seated by that river Chebar had a more wonderful dream than you or I ever have had or ever will have seated on the Banks of the Hudson

or Alabama or Oregon or Thames or Tiber or Danube.

But we all have had memorable dreams, some of them when we were half asleep and half awake, so that we did not know whether they were born of shadow or sunlight, whether they were thoughts let loose and disarranged as in slumber, or the imagination of

faculties awake.

Such a dream I had this morning. It was about half past 5, and the day was breaking. It was a dream of God, a dream of heaven. Ezekiel had his dream on the banks of the Chebar; I had my dream not far from the banks of the Hudson. The most of the stories of heaven were written many centuries ago, and they tell us how the place looked then, or how it will look centuries ahead. Would you not like to know how it looks now? That is what I am going to tell you. I was there this morning. I have just got back. How I got into that city of the sun I know not. Which of the 12 gates I entered is to me uncertain. But my first remembrance of the scene is that I stood on one of the main avenues, looking this way and that, lost in raptures, and the air so full of music and redolence and laughter and light that I knew not which street to take, when an angel of God accosted me and offered to show me the objects of greatest interest, and to conduct me from street to street, and from mansion to mansion, and from temple to temple, and from wall to wall. I said to the angel, "How long has thou been in heaven?" and the answer came, "Thirty-two years according to the

earthly calendar."

There was a secret about this angel's name that was not given me, but from the tenderness and sweetness and affection and interest taken in my walk through heaven, and more than all in the fact of 32 years' residence, the number of years since she ascended. I think it was my mother. Old age and decrepitude and the tired look were all gone, but I think it was she. You see, I was only on a visit to the city and had not yet taken up residence, and I could

know only in part.

THE CHURCH IN HEAVEN. I looked in for a few moments at the great temple. Our brilliant and lovely Scotch essayists, Mr. Drummond, says there is no church in heaven, but he did not look for it on the right street. St. John was right when in his Patmosin vision, recorded in the third chapter of Revelation, he speaks of "the temple of my God." I saw it this morning, the largest church I ever saw, as big as all the churches and cathedrals of the earth put together, and it was thronged. Oh, what a multitude! I had never seen so many people together. All the audience of all the churches of all the earth put together would make a poor attendance compared with that assemblage. There was a fashion in attire and headdress that immediately took my attention. The fashion was white. All in white, save one. And the headdress was a garland of rose and lily and mignonette, mingled with green leaves culled from the royal gardens and bound together with bands of gold. And I saw some young men with a ring on the finger of the right hand and said to my accompanying angel, "Why those rings on the fingers of the right hands?" and I was told that those who wore them were prodigal sons and once fed swine in the wilderness and lived on husks, but they came home, and the rejoicing father said, "Put a ring on his hand."

But I said there was one exception to this fashion of white pervading all the auditorium and clear up through all the galleries. It was the attire of the one who presided in that immense temple--

the chiefest, the mightiest, the loveliest person in all the place. His cheeks seemed to be flushed with infinite beauty, and his forehead was a morning sky, and his lips were eloquence omnipotent. But his attire was of deep colors. They suggested the carnage through which he had passed, and I said to my attending angel, "What is that crimson robe that he wears?" and I was told, "They are dyed garments from Bozrah," and "He trod the wine press alone." Soon after I entered this temple they began to chant the celestial litany. It was unlike anything I had ever heard for sweetness or power, and I have heard most of the great oratories. I said to my accompanying angel, "Who is that standing yonder with the harp?" and the answer was, "David!" And I said, "Who is that sounding that trumpet?" and the answer was, "Gabriel!" And I said, "Who is that at the organ?" and the answer was, "Handel!" And the music rolled on till it came to a doxology extolling Christ himself, when all the worshipers, lower down and higher up, a thousand galleries of them, suddenly dropped on their knees and shouted, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." Under the overpowering harmony I fell back. I said: "Let us go. This is too much for mortal ears. I cannot bear the overwhelming symphony."

But I noticed as I was about to turn away that on the steps of the altar was something like the lachrymal, or tear bottle, as I had seen it in the earthly museums, the lachrymals, or tear bottles, into which the orientals used to weep their griefs and set them away as sacred.

But this lachrymal, or tear bottle, instead of earthenware, as those the orientals used, was lustrous and fiery with many splendors, and it was towering and of great capacity. "What is that great lachrymal, or tear bottle, standing on the step of the altar?" and the angel

said: "Why, don't you know? That is the bottle to which David, the psalmist, referred in this fifty-sixth psalm when he said, 'Put thou my tears into thy bottle.' It is full of tears from earth--tears of repentance, tears of bereave-

ment, tears of joy, tears of many centuries." And then I saw how sacred to the sympathetic God are earthly sorrows.

As I was coming out of the temple I saw all along the pictured walls there were shelves, and golden vials were being set up on all those shelves. And I said: "Why the setting up of those vials at this time? They seem just now

to have been filled," and the attending angel said, "The week of prayer all around the earth has just closed, and more supplications have been made than have been made for a long while, and these new vials, newly set up, are what the Bible speaks of as "golden vials full of odors, which are the prayers of saints." And I said to the accompanying angel, "Can it be possible that the prayers of earth are worthy of being kept in such heavenly shape?" "Why," said the angel, "there is nothing that so moves heaven as the prayers of earth, and they are set up in sight of these infinite multitudes, and, more than all, in the sight of Christ, and he cannot forget them, and they are before him world without end."

THE GREAT CHRISTIAN SEEN. Then we came out, and as the temple is always open and some worship at one hour and others at other hours we passed down the street amid the throngs coming to and going from the great temple. And we passed along through a street called Martyr place, and we met there, or saw sitting at the windows, the souls of those who on earth went through fire and blood and under sword and rack. We saw John Wyclif, whose ashes were by decree of the coun-

cil of Constance thrown into the river, and Rogers, who bathed his hands in the fire as though it had been water, and Bishop Hooper and McKail and Latimer and Ridley and Polycarp, whom the flames refused to destroy as they bent outward till a spear did the work, and some of the Albigenses and Huguenots and consecrated Quakers who were slain for their religion. They had on them many scars, but their scars were illumined, and they had on their faces a look of especial triumph.

Then we passed along Song row, and we met some of the old gospel singers. "That is Isaac Watts," said my attend-

ant. As we came up to him, he asked me if the churches on earth were still singing the hymns he composed at the house of Lord and Lady Abney, to whom he paid a visit of 86 years, and I told him that many of the churches opened their Sabbath morning services with his old hymn, "Welcome, Sweet Day or Rest," and celebrated their gos-

pel triumphs with his hymn, "Salva-

tion, Oh, the Joyful Song! and often roused their devotions by his hymn, "Come, We That Love the Lord." While we were talking he introduced me to another of the song writers and said, "This is Charles Wesley, who belonged on earth to a different church from mine, but we are all now members of the same church, the temple of God and the Lamb." And I told Charles Wesley that almost every Sabbath we sang one of his old hymns, "Arm of the Lord, Awake!" or, "Come, Let Us Join Our Friends Above!" or, "Love Divine, All Love Excelling." And while we were talking on that street called Song row Kirk White, the con-

sumptive college student, now everlast-

ingly well, came up, and we talked over his old Christmas hymn, "When Mar-

shaled on the Nightly Plain." And William Cowper came up, now entirely recovered from his religious melancholy and not looking as if he had ever in dementia attempted suicide, and we talked over the wide earthly celebrity and heavenly power of his old hymns, "When I Can Read My Title Clear," and "There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood."

And there we met George W. Bethune of wondrous Brooklyn pastorate, and I told him of how his comforting hymn had been sung at obsequies all around the world--"It Is Not Death to Die." And Toplady came up and asked about whether the church was still making use of his old hymn, "Rock of Ages, Cleft For Me." And we met also on Song row Newton and Hastings and Mont-

gomery and Horatio Bonar, and we heard floating from window to window snatches of the old hymns which they started on earth and started never to die.

"But," say some of my hearers, "did you see anything of our friends in heaven?" Oh, yes, I did. "Did you see my children there?" says some one, "and are there any marks of their last sickness still upon them?" I did see them, but there was no pallor, no cough,

no fever, no languor, about them. They are all well and ruddy and songful and bounding with eternal mirth. They told me to give their love to you; that they thought of you hour by hour, and that

when they could be excused from the heavenly playgrounds they came down, and hovered over you, and kissed your cheek, and filled your dream with their glad faces, and that they would be at the gate to greet you when you ascended to be with them forever.

"But," say other voices, "did you see our glorified friends? [?] them, and they are well in [?]

across which no pneumonias or palsies or dropsies or typhoids ever sweep. The aroma blows over from orchards with trees bearing 12 manner of fruits, and gardens compared with which Chatsworth is a desert. The climate is a mingling of an earthly June and Octo-ber--the balm of the one and the tonic of the other. The social life in that realm where they are is superb and perfect. No controversies or jealousies or hates, but love, universal love, everlasting love. And they told me to tell you not to weep for them, for their happiness knows no bound, and it is only a question of time when you shall reign with them in the same palace and join with them in the same exploration of planets and the same tour of worlds.

But yonder in this assembly in an upturned face that seems to ask how about the ages of those in heaven. "Do my departed children remain children, or have they lost their childish vivacity? Do my departed parents remain aged, or have they lost the venerable out of their nature?" Well, from what I saw

I think childhood has advanced to full maturity of faculty, retaining all the resilience of childhood, and that the

aged had retreated to midlife, freed from all decadence, but still retaining the charm of the venerable. In other words, it was fully developed and complete life of all souls, whether young or old.

CHANGED CONDITIONS. Some one says, "Will you tell us what most impressed you in heaven?" I will. I was most impressed with the re-

versal of earthly conditions. I knew, of course, that there would be differences of attire and residence in heaven, for Paul had declared long ago that souls would then differ "as one star differed from another," as Mars from Mercury, as Saturn from Jupiter. But at every step in my dream in heaven I was amazed to see that some who were expected to be high in heaven were low down, and some who were expected to be low down were high up. You thought, for instance, that those born of pious parentage, and of naturally good disposition, and of brilliant faculties, and of all styles of attractiveness will move in the highest range of celestial splendor and pomp. No, no. I found the highest thrones, the brightest coronets, the richest mansions, were occupied by those who had reprobate farther or bad mother,

and who inherited the twisted natures of 10 generations of miscreants, and who had compressed in their body all de-

praved appetites and all evil propensities, but they laid hold of God's arm, they cried for especial mercy, they conquered seven devils within and sev-

enty devils without and were washed in the blood of the Lamb, and by so much as their contest was terrific and awful and prolix their victory was consummate and resplendent, and they have taken places immeasurably higher than those of good parentage, who could hard-

ly help being good, because they had 10 generations of preceding piety to aid them. The steps by which many have mounted to the highest places in heaven were made out of the cradles of a cor-

rupt parentage. When I saw that, I said to my attending angel: "That is fair; that is right. The harder the struggle the more glorious the reward."

Then I pointed to one of the most colonnaded and grandly domed residences in all the city and said, "Who lives there?" and the answer was, "The widow who gave two mites." "And who lives there?" and the answer was, "The penitent thief to whom Christ said, 'This day shalt thou be with me in paradise.'" "And who lives there?" I said, and the answer was, "The blind beggar who prayed, 'Lord, that my eyes may be opened.'" NAMES NOT IN THE DIRECTORY. Some of those professors of religion who were famous on earth I asked about, but no one could tell me anything con-

cerning them. Their names were not even in the city directory of the New Jerusalem. The fact is that I suspected some of them had not got there at all.

Many who had ten talents were living on the back streets of heaven, while many with one talent had residences fronting on the King's park, and a back lawn sloping to the river clear as crystal, and the highest nobility of heaven were guests at their table, and often the white horse of him who "hath the moon under his feet" champed its bit at their doorway. Infinite capsize of earthly conditions! All social life in heaven graded according to earthly struggle and usefulness as proportioned to talents given!

As I walked through those streets I appreciated for the first time what Paul said to Timothy, "If we suffer, we shall also reign with him." It surprised me beyond description that all the great of heaven were great sufferers. "Not all?" Yes, all. Moses, him of the Red sea, a great sufferer. David, him of Absalom's unfilial behavior, and Ahithophel's betrayal, and a nation's dethronement, a great sufferer. Ezekiel, him of the captivity, who had the dream on the banks of the Chebar, a great sufferer. Paul, him of the diseased eyes, and the Mediterranean shipwreck, and the Mars Hill derision, and the Mamertine endungeonment, and the whipped back, and the headman's ax on the road to Ostia, a great sufferer.

Yea, all the apostles after lives of suffering died by violence, beaten to death with fuller's club, or dragged to death by mobs, or from the thrust of a sword, or by exposure on a barren island, or by decapitation. All the high up in heaven

great sufferers, and women more than men, Felicitas and St. Cecelia and St. Agnes and St. Agatha and St. Lucia and women never heard of outside their own neighborhood, queens of the needle, and the broom, and the scrubbing brush, and the washtub, and the dairy, rewarded according to how well they did their work, whether to set a tea table or govern a nation, whether empress or milkmaid.

I could not get over it, as in my dream I saw all this, and that some of the most unknown of earth were the most famous in heaven and that many who seemed the greatest failures of

earth were the [?] of heaven. And as we passed along one of the grandest boulevards of heaven there approached us a group of persons so radiant in countenance and apparel I had to shade my eyes with both hands because I could not endure the luster, and I said, "Angel, do tell me who they are?" and the answer was, "These are they who came out of great tribulation and had their robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb!"

EQUALIZED AT LAST. My walk through the city explained a thousand things on earth that had been to me inexplicable. When I saw up there the superior delight and the superior heaven of many who had on earth had it hard with cancers and bankruptcies and persecutions and trials of all sorts I said, "God has equalized it all at last; excess of enchantment in heaven has more than made up for the deficits on earth."

"But," said I to my angelic escort, "I must go now. It is Sabbath morning on earth, and I must preach today and be in my pulpit by half past 10 o'clock. Goodby," I said to the attending angel. "Thanks for what you have shown me. I know I have seen only in part, but I hope to return again, through the atoning mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ. Goodby." Then I passed on amid chariots of salvation, and along by conquerors' thrones, and amid pillared majesties, and by windows of agate, and under arches that had been hoisted for returned victors. And as I came toward the walls with the gates, the walls flashed upon me with emeralds and sapphires and chrysoprases and amethysts, until I trembled under the glory, and then I heard a bolt shove, and a latch lift, and a gate swing, and they were all of pearl, and I passed out loaded with raptures, and down by worlds lower and lower, and lower still, until I came within sight of the city of my earthly residence, and until through the window of my earthly home the sun poured so strong upon my pillow that my eyelids felt it, and in bewilderment as to where I was and what I had seen I awoke.

Reflection the First--The superiority of our heaven to all other heavens. The Scandinavian heaven: The departed are in everlasting battle, except as restored after being cut to pieces, they drink wine out of the skulls of their enemies. The Moslem heaven as described by the Koran: "There shall be bouris with large black eyes like pearls hidden in their shells." The Slav's heaven: After death the soul hovers six weeks about the body, and then climbs a steep mountain, on the top of which is paradise. The Tasma-

nian's heaven: A spear is placed by the dead, that they may have something to fight with, and after awhile they go into a long chase for game of all sorts. The Tahitian's heaven: The departed are eaten up of the gods. The native African heaven: A land of shadows, and in speaking of the departed they say all is done forever. The American aborigine's heav-

en: Happy hunting grounds, to which the soul goes on a bridge of snake. The philosopher's heaven: Made out of a thick fog or an infinite don't know.

But hearken, and behold our heaven, which, though mostly described by figures of speech in the Bible and by parable of a dream in this discourse, has for its chief characteristics separation from all that is vile; absence from all that can discomfort; presence of all that can gratu-

late. No mountains to climb; no chasms to bridge; no night to illumine; no tears to wipe. Scandinavian heaven, Slav's heaven, Tasmanian heaven, Tahitian heaven, African heaven, aborigines' heaven, scattered into tameness and disgust by a glimpse of St. John's heaven, of Paul's heaven, of Christ's heaven, of your heaven, of my heaven!

THE SILVER OF TEARS. Reflection the Second--You had better take patiently and cheerfully all pangs, affronts, hardships, persecutions and trials of earth, since, if rightly borne, they insure heavenly payments of ecstasy. Every twinge of physical distress, every lie told about you, every earthly subtraction, if meekly borne, will be heavenly addition. If you want to amount to anything in heaven and to move in its best society, you must be "perfected through suffering." The only earthly currency worth anything at the gate of heaven is the silver of tears. At the top of all heaven sits the greatest sufferer. Christ of the Bethlehem caravansary and of Pilate's oyer and terminer, and of the Calvarean assassination: What he endured, oh, who can tell, To save our souls from death and hell?

Oh, ye of the broken heart, and the dis-

appointed ambition, and the shattered fortune, and the blighted life, take comfort from what I saw in my Sabbath morning dream! Reflection the Third and Last--How desirable that we all get there! Start this moment with prayer and penitence and faith in Christ, who came from heaven to earth to take us from earth to heaven. Last summer, a year ago, I preached one Sabbath afternoon in Hyde Park, London, to a great multitude that no man could number. But I heard nothing from it until a few weeks ago, when Rev. Mr. Cook, who for 22 years has presided over that Hyde Park outdoor meeting, told me that last winter, going through a hospital in London, he saw a dying man whose face brightened as he told him that his heart was changed that afternoon under my sermon in Hyde Park, and all was bright now at his departure from earth to heaven. Why may not the Lord bless this as well as that? Heaven as I dreamed about it, as I read about it, is so benign a realm you cannot any of you afford to miss it. Oh, will it not be transcendently glorious after the struggle of this life is over to stand in that eternal safety?

Samuel Rutherford, though they viciously burned his books and unjustly arrested him for treason, wrote of that celestial spectacle: The King there in his beauty, Without a veil, is seen; It were a well spent journey, Though seven deaths lay between. The Lamb with his fairy army Doth on Mount Zion stand, And glory, glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land.

Phases of the Ohio River.

To the artist the silvery, shrunken Ohio, winding feebly between green and everlasting hills, is a charming spectacle worthy of transfer to canvas and subse-

quent hanging in a favored place in the home of a purchaser.

But to the practical Pittsburger the swollen, turbid, oil stained Ohio, careen-

ing to the Mississippi through a bleak landscape of snow sprinkled hills, is a sight more attractive than any afforded in midsummer. For the larger Ohio bears on its muddy breast the deep laden coalboats whose contents are not more needed by New Orleans and Memphis than the money the coal represents is needed by our river operators and shippers. These regard

the Ohio as a most lovable stream when, after months of picturesque idleness, it arises in its might and boasts of "12 feet."

If our local artists wish to make a painting of the Ohio which will be salable to a coal shipper, they must portray the stream with that number of feet,

with the tawny mane of swirling water and a procession of coalboats heading

for the sunny south. A "coalboat," it might be added, is one that requires 10 feet of water to float it and is helpless to reach the lower markets on a stage of water that will let out a coal "barge."--Pittsburg Bulletin.

Removing Paint. "Never use turpentine to take the paint off your hands, but always use kerosene," said a pretty and energetic lady who plies the brush most vigorously, albeit in a very utilitarian fashion, painting her boats, doing all the necessary household renovations and not disdaining even to varnish her own village cart when it needs it. "Turpentine

roughens the hands excessively," she continued, "but kerosene, on the con-

trary, keeps them beautifully soft and white. For your brushes you should also keep a small keg of oil ready and put them in it directly until you are ready to

wash them. It quite ruins your brushes to let them dry with the paint on."--Hartford Times.

The first secession flag raised in the south was in South Carolina. The flagstaff is still standing fastened to the gable end of a storehouse at Skull Shoals. ODDS AND ENDS. The Bible has an annual circulation of 10,000. Don't drop a nickel in any slot, however promising, and expect a $5 bill. American stoves are meeting with a large demand in Amsterdam, Holland.

Of the present population of the United States more than 16,000,000 are immigrants.

Byron's poems have been refused ad-

mittance to the Turkish empire by the state censorship.

Many of the big hotels erected for the accommodation of visitors to the World's fair are being turned into flats. "As you walk the streets, as you go into the shops, watch for sad faces," advised the Salvation Army speaker. There is more religion in a loaf of bread to a hungry man than in a carload of religious literature.--Baltimore World. In 36 state prisons in this country solitary confinement is used as a punishment, and in 20 the prisoner is handcuffed to the wall. In times of scarcity the South African natives sometimes rob the nests of termites, and as much as five bushels of grain have been taken from a single nest.

Aluminium can be successfully used for engraving in place of stone or steel plates. The only stone used for litho-

graphing is found at Sohlenhogen, Bavaria. "Where can you find any polished English in New York?" asked the man from Boston. "On the brass signs," promptly replied the man from New York. The Egyptian inscriptions show great numbers of war chariots, each containing two men--one to drive, the other an archer--but no cavalry was employed on the field. At Lucknow, India, where 80 years ago so many Europeans were murdered during the sepoy rebellion, 32,000 children, all of Hindoo and Mohammedan parentage, recently marched in a Sunday-school procession. There is a club in Berlin called the Giants, every member of which is 6 feet tall. Vienne has a Lazy club, no member of which does anything for a living, and London a Baldheaded club, where nothing but polished skulls are seen.

Smokeless Powders.

The composition of smokeless powders is kept a profound secret by all the inventors and by the governments which purchase them. Nearly all of them consist essentially of gun cotton or other lower forms of nitrocotton, acted on by a solvent, such as acetic ether or acetone, which reduces the nitrocellulose to a viscous paste. The paste is then rolled out into sheets and the solvent allowed to evaporate. The sheets are left as a dense, horny substance and are cut first into strips, and then the strips are cut crosswise into grains of any size, or the substance can be left in strips or in a fibrous form. The French were the first to use smokeless powder, and this they did in the Lebel gun. It is believed that this Vieilles powder was made by mixing pieric acid with the paste as above. This powder was found rapidly to deteriorate and had to be abandoned. The Germans introduced a smokeless powder in 1889, a nitrated gun cotton like that of the French. It was also wanting in stability. A

first class smokeless powder must not be too violent in its action; must be able to stand extremes of heat and cold; must not absorb water or deteriorate otherwise while in store. And it is a problem to find suitable powders to answer all these conditions.--Baltimore American.

Seasons for Marriage. With regard to the seasons for cele-

brating marriage the church was for-

merly very strict. The parish register for St. Mary's Beverly contains the following entry under date Nov. 25, 1644:

When Advent comes, do thou refraine Till Hillary set ye free again.

Next Septuagestma saith thee nay, But when Low Sunday comes thou may Yet at Rogation thou must tarrie Till Trinitie shall bid thee marry.

The above appears to have been a popular verse to inscribe in registers, for, with slight variations, it is to be met with in several parishes. Philomath's almanac for the year 1674 contains similar rules in prose:

TIMES PROHIBITING MARRIAGE THIS YEAR.

Marriage comes in on the 13th of January, and at Septuagesima Sunday it is out again

until Low Sunday, at which time it comes in again and goes not out till Rogation Sunday.

Then it is forbidden until Trinity Sunday, from whence it is unforbidden till Advent Sunday,

but then it goes out and comes not in again till the 13th of January next following.--Westminster Review.

Women Hair Cutters. I am not an authority on barbers, so I can't say whether women would be an improvement in that trade or not. But I do think that women would make ad-

mirable hair cutters, especially for children. Show me a mother who was ever satisfied with the work of a male barber when the head of her offspring was con-

cerned. She has her soul full of poetry about that darling head, but if she ever conveyed any of it to the barber--gener-ally a phlegmatic Teuton--I am not aware of it. His idea of scissors is that they were made to cut with, and cut he does until stopped by the indignant parent. Now, a woman hair cutter would understand these delicate points much

better and could, I think, drum up a large and lucrative juvenile trade.--Pol-

ly Pry in New York Recorder.

A Fish In an Oyster Shell.

The Rev. John A. Burk, 1,507 West Lexington street, recently received a barrel of oysters from Reedville, North-

amption county, Va. Upon opening one of the shells, the two parts of which were joined as if they held an oyster, a live fish 2½ inches long fell from the shell and began to wriggle. The fish was put in water and is still alive. There

was no oyster in the shell, the fish being the sole occupant.--Baltimore Sun.

London's Pleasure Grounds.

The city of London has no park within its borders, and yet the largest recrea-

tion ground open to Londoners is under the control of the city corporation--Ep-ping forest, with its 5,650 acres, or nearly nine square miles of almost unbroken woodland, forming one of the most extensive pleasure grounds in Europe.

A woman says that a man can bear the deprivation of his wealth with the calmness of a stoic, but cannot lose his collar stud on the bedroom floor without a violent outburst of temper. GREAT BARGAINS IN FALL AND WINTER CLOTHING, Hats, Caps and Gents Furnishing Goods, AT M. MENDEL'S RELIABLE ONE PRICE STORE. 1625 ATLANTIC AVENUE, ATLANTIC CITY, N. J. Children's Nobby Clothing a Specialty. A Banjo Souvenier Given Away with every Child's Suit. THE OCEAN CITY SENTINEL. $1.00 PER YEAR. Good Advertising Medium. FIRST-CLASS JOB WORK OUR MOTTO. We are well equipped to do plain or fancy work. HOTEL BRIGHTON, R. R. SOOY, Proprietor. SEVENTH AND OCEAN AVENUE OCEAN CITY, NEW JERSEY. FIRST-CLASS HOUSE. DIRECTLY ON THE BEACH.

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

WM. LAKE, C. E., REAL ESTATE AGENT, Surveying, Conveyancing, Commissioner of Deeds, Notary Public, Master in Chancery. Sec'y Ocean City Building and Loan Association.

Lots for Sale or Exchange. Houses to rent, furnished or unfurnished. Deeds, Bonds, Mortgages, Wills and Contracts carefully drawn. Abstracts of titles carefully prepared. Experience of more than twenty-five years. Office--Sixth Street and Asbury Avenue. P. O. Box 825. WM. LAKE.

Honesty is the best policy.--B. Franklin. Therefore get the polices 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.

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.