VOL. XIV.

OCEAN CITY, N. J., THURSDAY, MAY 10, 1894. NO. 6.

Ocean City Sentinel. PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT OCEAN CITY, N. J.,

BY R. C. ROBINSON, Editor and Proprietor.

$1.00 per year, strictly in advance. $1.50 at end of year.

Restaurants. MARSHALL'S DINING ROOMS FOR LADIES AND GENTS, 1321 MARKET STREET, Three Doors East of City Hall, PHILADELPHIA. STRICTLY TEMPERANCE. MEALS TO ORDER FROM 6 A. M. TO 8 P. M.

Good Roast Dinners, with three vegetables, for 25 cents. Turkey or Chicken Dinners 15 cents. Ladies' Room upstairs, with homelike accommodations. PURE SPRING WATER.

BAKERY, 601 S. Twenty-Second St.

ICE CREAM, ICES, FROZEN FRUITS AND JELLIES.

Weddings and Evening Entertainments a specialty.

Everything to furnish the table and set free of charge. NOTHING SOLD OR DELIVERED ON SUNDAY.

H. M. Sciple. J. M. Gillespie. H. P. Sayford. H. M. SCIPLE & CO., DEALERS IN Boilers and Engines, Every Size for Every Duty, DUPLEX STEAM PUMPS, Third and Arch Sts., PHILADELPHIA, PA.

WALLACE RISLEY, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENT, 413 MARKET ST., CAMDEN. Properties for sale and to rent. Money to loan on Mortgage.

PETER MURDOCH, DEALER IN COAL and WOOD, Ocean City, N. J. Orders left at 806 Asbury avenue will receive prompt attention.

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

Tin roofer and sheet-iron worker. All kinds of Stove Casting furnished at short notice. Gas- oline Stoves a specialty. All work guaranteed as represented.

OWEN H. KUDER, 408 Seventh Street, (near Asbury Avenue) BOOT and SHOE MAKER REPAIRING NEATLY DONE.

L. S. SMITH, CONTRACTOR IN Grading, Graveling and Curbing. PAINTING BY CONTRACT OR DAY. Eighth St. and Asbury Ave., OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Plasterers and Brick-Layers. W. STONEHILL. G. O. ADAMS. STONEHILL & ADAMS, Plastering, Range Setting, Brick Laying, &c. All work in mason line promptly attended to. OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Physicians, Druggists, Etc.

DR. J. S. WAGGONER, RESIDENT Physician and Druggist, NO. 731 ASBURY AVENUE, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Pure Drugs, Fine Stationery, Confectionery, Etc., constantly on hand. DR. G. W. URQUHART, 3646 North Broad Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Will practice at Ocean City during the months of June, July and August.

DR. WALTER L. YERKES,

DENTIST,

Tuckahoe, N. J. Will be in Ocean City at 656 Asbury avenue every Tuesday.

DR. CHAS. E. EDWARDS, DENTIST, Room 12, Haseltine Building, Take Elevator. 1416 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa.

Attorneys-at-Law.

MORGAN HAND, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW Solicitor, Master and Examiner in Chancery, Supreme Court Commissioner, Notary Public, CAPE MAY C. H., N. J. (Opposite Public Buildings.)

LAW OFFICES SCHUYLER C. WOODRULL 310 Market St., Camden, N. J. Solicitor in Ocean City.

Bakers, Grocers, Etc.

JACOB SCHUFF, (Successor to A. E. Mahan,) THE PIONEER BAKERY, No. 703 Asbury Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Fresh Bread, Pies and Cakes daily. Wedding Cakes a specialty. Orders delivered free of charge. Nothing delivered on Sunday.

Contractors and Builders. S. B. SAMPSON, Contractor and Builder, No. 305 Fourth St., Ocean City, N. J.

Jobbing promptly attended to. Plans, specifications and working drawings furnished.

JOSEPH F. HAND, ARCHITECT, CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER, Ocean City, N. J.

Plans, Specifications and Working Drawings furnished. Estimates given on Application. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Nicholas Corson, CARPENTER AND BUILDER, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Plans and Specifications furnished. Buildings put up by contract or day.

G. P. MOORE, ARCHITECT, BUILDER, AND PRACTICAL SLATER, Ocean City, N. J. Best Roofing Slate constantly on hand.

Samuel Schurch, PRACTICAL BUILDER, MAY BE FOUND AT Bellevue Cafe, On beach bet. Seventh and Eighth Sts.

GEO. A. BOURGEOIS & SON, Carpenters and Builders, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Buildings erected by con-

tract or day.

Plumbers, Steam Fitters, Etc.

J. T. BRYAN, Practical Plumber and Gas Fitter. No. 1007 Ridge Ave., Philadelphia.

Circulating Boilers, Sinks, Bath Tubs, Water Closets, Lead and Iron Pipes, Etc., fur-

nished at short notice. Country or City Residences fitted up in the best manner. Sanitary Plumbing and drainage a specialty. Orders by mail promptly attended to.

ARNOLD B. RACE, UNDERTAKER, PLEASANTVILLE, N. J. All orders by telegraph or otherwise will receive prompt attention. Bodies preserved with or without ice. Office below W. J. R. R. at the residence of A. B. RACE. ARNOLD B. RACE. D. GALLAGHER, DEALER IN FINE FURNITURE, 43 So. Second St., PHILADELPHIA, PA.

ROBERT FISHER, REAL ESTATE AND Insurance Broker, CONVEYANCER, COMMISSIONER OF DEEDS, AND NOTARY PUBLIC. Agent for the Aetna Life Insurance Company, of Hartford, Connecticut, and some of the oldest and best Fire Insurance Companies of America.

What's the matter with Ocean City? She's booming, that's all. New water supply system; new electric street rail-

road; electric lights; new hotels; new cottages; new tenants and new guests; everything is on the jump, and Fisher is rushing the business. Call and see him, and put your money in Ocean City before things get up to the top notch. Fisher is one of the few pioneers of Ocean City and among its first Real Estate purchasers and Cottagers, intimately associated with all its history and identified with every step of its progress an the operation of its Real Estate, has extraordinary opportunities for the transaction of all kinds of Real Estate and Insurance business.

FOR RENT--Having very ex-

tensive and influential connec-

tions, he has superior advan-

tages in bringing those who have properties to rent and those who require them to-

gether, and at present has some of the finest cottages and other houses on his books at liberal prices.

FOR SALE--Long experience and personal dealing in Real Estate has made him expert in values of both improved and unimproved property. Occa-

sionally even in such a prosper-

ous town as ours some one wants to change or get out. Then we help them by helping some one else to a bargain.

From Ocean front to Bay, and all between, you can be suited with fine corners or central building lots. A few cottages, new and well built, now offered at cost.

Write for information of the Lot Club.

Headquarters for every house-hunter and investor, Fisher's Real Estate Office, the most prominent corner in Ocean City.

Insurances placed on most advantageous terms in best companies. For any information on any subject connected with any business enterprise write freely to Robert Fisher, Ocean City, N. J.

Not Confined to One City.

I am something of a kicker myself, but I take off my hat to the nervous in-

dividual who halted me on the street yesterday with:

"Say! Louisville is a healthy, hand-

some city of beautiful homes, lovely women, brave men, fine horses and good whisky, but in no other city half or one-fourth its size in the universe are so many nuisances permitted as in this one.

Just think that the citizens are aroused from their beds in the early hours of the morning when sleep is sweetest, victims of sickness and disease are disturbed al-

most in the very arms of death, and all day long people in the streets are in danger feeling the drums of their ears burst and not an effort made to put a stop to the pandemonium of unearthly noises in our streets. The charcoal man's Comanche yells, the stale vegetable, fever producing peddler's howls, the parrot tongued peddler of no-account bananas, the er-rags ol' i'on collector, secondhand fruit distributors, big bells in advertising wagons, mil bells, scissors grinders bells--all adding to one common bedlam of unending noises upon our principal

business and residence streets. The sick are disturbed, the healthy annoyed, and yet day after day we never make an at- tempt to protect our right to live in peace."--Louisville Courier-Journal.

The Woman and the Rose. A traveler stopped at a little cabin in the Georgia woods. He wore a white rose on his coat--one that a little girl had plucked and pinned there as he was leaving home. A woman entered the cabin. She stood and gazed at the rose a moment. Then, darting forward, she tore it from the stranger's coat and stamped it on the rude floor. "Why did you do that?" asked the stranger leaping to his feet. "Hush!" said a man who was sitting near. "That's my wife, an--an--she ain't right here"--tapping his forehead.

"We had a little girl once, with blue eyes an hair like a sunset. She wan-

dered off among the roses one day--lost; lost!--an when we found her she was where the roses grow, an they was creep-

ing over her. An the wife there went mad, an now she says the roses stole the child an hid her away from us forever, an she goes about an tramples them--just like she did the rose there on the floor!"--New York Recorder.

Followed Plenty of Advice.

A Connecticut farmer who wished to paint his barn asked all his neighbors what would be the best color. He ac-

cepted the advice of every one of them, and there never was a barn that showed as many colors as this one when the work was done.--New York Times.

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It has been in use for nearly a quarter of a century. Thousands of patients have been treated, and more than 1000 physicians have used it and recommended it. It is agreeable. There is no nauseous taste, nor aftertaste, nor sickening smell.

We give below a few of the great number of testimonials which we are constantly receiving from those who have tried it, published with the express permission in writing of the patients.

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"Compound Oxygen.. Its Mode of Action and Results" is the title of a book of 200 pages published by Drs. Starkey & Palen,

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HER WORLD.

Behind them slowly sank the western world, Before them new horizons opened wide. "Yonder," he said, "old Rome and Venice wait, And lovely Florence by the Arno's tide." She heard, but backward all her heart had sped

Where the young moon sailed through the sunset red. "Yonder," she thought, "with breathing soft and deep, My little lad lies smiling in his sleep."

They sailed where Capri dreamed upon the sea And Naples slept beneath her olive trees.

They saw the marbles by the master wrought To shrine the heavenly beauty of his thought.

Still ran, one longing through her smiles and sighs "If I could see my little lad's sweet eyes."

Down from her shrine the dear Madonna gazed Her baby lying warm against her breast. "What does she see?" he whispered. "Can she guess The cruel thorns to those soft temples pressed?" "Ah, no," she said, "She shuts him safe from harms Within the love locked harbor of her arms. No fear of coming fate could make me sad If so tonight I held my little lad." "If you could choose," he said, "a royal boon Like that girl dancing yonder for the king, What gift from all her kingdom would you ask Obedient Fortune in her hand to bring?" The dancer's robe, the glittering banquet hall Swam in the mist of tears along the wall, "Not power," she said, "nor riches nor delight, But just to kiss my little lad tonight!" --Emily H. Miller in Independent.

XANTIPPE.

Daphne stepped lightly out over the threshold of her door. The sun was shining with an intolerable glare on the white marble walls of the houses around and on the white lime dust of the pavement, causing Daphne's bright, laughing eyes to wink and blink invol-

untarily. She drew a thin, gauzy veil over her head and face and slipped, keeping carefully within the sparse shadow cast by the walls of the houses, to a dwelling near by. Raising a heavy curtain hanging before the entrance door, she tripped softly inside. The room, however, was quite empty. It

was a small, square room, the walls colored dark red; its only furniture a tripod, on which were burning dimly two

chased silver lamps.

"She will be in the Gynakeion," said Daphne to herself softly, and raising another curtain, which hung exactly opposite, she passed through into a sec-

ond room. There, under a portico which led out into a courtyard, upon a circu-

lar marble bench, sat the one whom she was seeking--a young and beautiful woman. A long white garment, with

a border embroidered in crimson, lay

in heavy, graceful folds about her small outstretched feet; an upper garment (the chiton) of the same color as the robe was gathered closely up about her neck, but left her slender arms quite bare, one of which rested languidly upon the carved back of the seat. The woman's small head was bound with three narrow scarlet silken fillets, her wavy hair caught up in a loose knot at the back of her neck. Hearing the curtain rustle, she turned her head and smiled as her dark eyes caught sight of Daphne's smiling face peeping from among its folds. Kissing her hand, she pointed toward the court and shook her head as a warning to the newcomer not to speak too loud. In the court, regardless of the sun's hot rays, by the side of a fountain--a lion's head, from whose open mouth a slender stream of water fell into a shallow basin--two men were seated in earnest conversation. Daphne glided noiselessly up to her friend's side, and seating herself upon the ground laid her head upon the other's knees. She sat there some moments in silence, endeavoring to catch what it was the men were discussing, in vain. She could hear only the sound of their voices. That of the principal speaker--a dark, swarthy man, of middle age, with a flat nose and thick, protruding lips--was sonorous and mellow; his companion's, high pitched and squeaking. After a few minutes' silence, Daphne whispered: "How ugly he is--thy Socrates!" "But so learned, so wise, so great," murmured the other in answer, but she

sighed as she spoke.

"Thou sighest. Hast weared on the first day of thy wedded life with thy philosopher?" inquired Daphne, with a

bright, sidelong glance.

"No," answered Xantippe proudly. "Is he not the most learned, the wisest man in all Athens? And I am happy to think he considered me worthy to be his wife. Thou shouldst have heard the speech with which he welcomed me to his roof yesterday. Among other things he told me that there were evil demons who lurked in corners and cupboards to tempt young wives to be neglectful of their duties. But there was also a deity who, living under our roof, would take me under his protection, guide me from evil and help me to resist temptation, whom I must propitiate by humility and wifely obedience. But how can I do

this when Socrates himself prevents me?"

"Socrates--prevent thee! Speak, and tell me how this can be. Thou knowest I was wedded against my will to Antis-

thenes, preferring Glaucus, to whom my parents refused me. Should I learn from thee, however, that the wife of a philosopher has reason to complain of her lot, I shall no longer reproach my parents in my heart for bestowing me on the merchant and denying me to the scholar."

"Thou knowest," answered Xantip-

pe, "that it is my duty to see that my lord's table is well supplied with suita-

ble food. But how can I do this when he gives me no money? Three times I went this morning to him, asking him gently, "Give me, I pray thee, a tetro-

bolon, that I may buy fish and vegetables for the midday meal." Twice he gave me no answer; the third he spoke not to me, but to Euclid, who arrived here this morning from Megara. "Euclid, why does this woman trouble us and disturb us at our discourse?" Before Daphne could open her mouth to speak the words of sympathy trembling on her lips, Socrates, leaving his

seat at the fountain, approached, followed by his friend. "According to the sun, it should be

midday, my Xantippe. I am hungry. If the midday meal is prepared, we will partake of it. Euclid, too, will bear us company." Daphne smiled maliciously at the thought that the philosopher and his pupil were likely this day at least to go hungry. Xantippe, however, blanched with shame. She arose from her seat trembling, and standing with downcast head before her husband in faltering tones explained why the midday meal was not prepared. She had asked him hours ago for money to buy food, but he had given her none. Euclid laughed jeeringly at her words, but Socrates replied mildly: "Justice is one of the chiefest virtues belonging to man. As I gave thee no money at thy request, the fault is mine.

The next time, however, my Xantippe, when I do not heed thy words, raise thy voice and continue speaking until thou succeedest in attracting my attention.

Let the evening meal, therefore, be prepared earlier than usual. And now fetch us a vessel of wine, that we may continue our discourse with minds and bodies refreshed." Xantippe's beautiful face cleared up at Socrates' quiet words. "Thou seest," she whispered when she and Daphne were alone together again, "how kind and just he is." And she kept her husband's advice, to raise her voice while speaking to him, fixed firmly in her memory. The next day, therefore, when Socrates turned a deaf ear to her request for money--he being at that time in earnest conversation with Daphne's husband, Antisthenes--she raised her voice, as she had been bidden by him, and as he still continued oblivious to her request she screamed, in a voice so shrill and loud that she herself was startled at the sound of it, "Socrates, give me some money!" The philosopher, disturbed and anxious to continue his discourse with his friend, promptly complied with her demand.

In a very few days, however, Soc-

rates' ears became accustomed to his wife's tones, shrill as they had grown.

And Xantippe, on her part, found it impossible--accustomed as she was by this time to the high key necessary to make herself audible to her husband--to lower her voice when speaking to others.

Daphne therefore remarked complainingly to Xantippe's friends and her own: "Xantippe's voice grows harsher and shriller every day. Not content with screaming at her philosopher, she begins now to scream at us."

Xantippe soon found it necessary to ask Socrates for money to buy new gar-

ments. When she succeeded at last in making her husband understand what it was she required, he shook his head doubtfully and answered:

"In my eyes, my Xantippe, thou art

beautiful and lovely in thy present gar-ments--old and shabby though they be. Beware of vanity, which is also a demon." Xantippe, however, was not satisfied with this judgment of her husband, philosopher though he was, concerning the garment she was wearing. Daphne, too, assured her that the robe was not fit to be worn.

When, therefore, Xantippe for a second time, with tears and shrill upbraidings, insisted on Socrates complying with her desire, the philosopher, to be rid of her, gave her three times as much money as she had asked for. And Xantippe, overjoyed, was able to buy for herself, besides the coveted garments, a fillet of gold for her hair, and an armlet in the shape of a serpent, of an Egyptian who sold jewelry in the bazar. From that day Xantippe's voice grew louder and louder, until her husband grew to shudder at the very sound of it. And not only Daphne, but soon all Athens--all Greece--all the world--proclaimed Xantippe a scold and a shrew who, by her complaints and upbraidings, made the life of her philoso-

pher husband a burden to him.

Poor Xantippe!--Translated From the

German For Short Stories.

Why Is It?

Why is it that a woman can struggle until she is red in the face and worn out both in temper and body by a window in a railroad train in her vain endeavors to close or open it when all that a man has to do is to walk up and go over exactly the same line of action that she has already exhausted, and down comes the refractory window in a jiffy? It is a most humiliating fact, but a very true one nevertheless, that not five women out of a dozen ever succeed in arranging a win-

dow to their satisfaction. They pull and tug until they are embarrassed, and finally, in a pleading manner, look around at some slip of a man, who, without any nonsense, brings about the desired effect, while the woman looks on in silent wonder at his marvelous skill and dexterity.--Philadelphia Times.

His Old Pipe.

"Isn't that a rich color?" said a well known lawyer the other day as he held up a brier wood pipe of an almost ebon hue. Then he stroked it fondly with his hand and finally took to rubbing it with his coat sleeve. "It has taken me over a year to color that pipe, and I don't think you could buy it now at any price. I used to smoke cigars--I do now to some extent--but I prefer a pipe when reading or working over my papers. You see a cigar is always dropping ashes and mussing things up. Then the smoke gets in your eyes when leaning over.

But a pipe--oh, there is nothing like it for real solid comfort. My wife says this old fellow is getting dreadfully strong, but she hasn't the heart to ask me to dis-

card it for a new one. See the way that rich chocolate tint merges in the black--that velvety looking black--and then the gloss that seems to have grown up from beneath the surface. "Strange how a man should become attached to such a thing. But, on the other hand, think of the nights this old pipe has stood by me when I worried my brain over legal fangles; when I grew cross and irritable, how its sweet perfume has quieted and soothed me. Friends might forsake me and fat fees vanish into thin air, but my old pipe was ever at hand with its comfort. What a sense of calm contentment settles over me when the work of the day is done and I sit down in the library at home, with my wife and little ones about and this old fellow filled to the brim and going! Why, man, the cares and worries of the day slip off and away with the curling smoke. Just look at that exquisite color!"--Brooklyn Eagle.

Rich Sap From Maple Trees.

The more uneven, rocky and ledgy the land and the drier the soil, except where cold springs abound, the better are the products of the maple. Trees standing in or near cold springs will discharge the most and the sweetest sap. I am acquainted with one tree standing by a spring, seven quarts of whose sap will make a pound of nice white sugar. The richness of this sap will be realized when it is remembered that it takes 16 quarts of average sap to make a pound. The black maple is the richest for sap of any vari-

ety. Our poorest sugar orchards give us about two pounds of sugar to the tree, while our best ones yield five and six pounds as tree. I have heard of a few extra orchards yielding 7, 8 and 10 pounds to the tree, and one extraordinary one that has yielded 16 pounds to a tree. The quantity of sugar that can be made from single trees in one season of six weeks at most will depend on many circumstances.

The more spouts put into a tree the more sap is obtained and the more sugar is made. From the tree already referred to as standing near a cold spring there were made 30½ pounds in one season with two spouts, which emptied into the same tub. They were set in holes bored 1½ inches deep with a three-eighths bit.

Another tree I have known of yielded 30 pounds, and a third 28. Still another tree was tapped with 10 spouts, and 50 pounds of sugar were made, but it killed the tree.--Timothy Wheeler in Garden and Forest.

A Private Roof Garden. Those who find the city hot, dusty and intolerable have probably never spent an afternoon or evening amid the many "roof gardens" that are really the summer quarters of numerous Bostonians. One of these gardens was recently visited when the rays of the western sun were the longest. There, under a wide spreading awning the hammocks swung, and steamer chairs with head and foot rests were most invitingly scattered about. There was a little table covered with novels, and stacks of papers were weighted down with souvenir stones that told stories about Block island, Nova Scotia, Montana and Colorado. Another little table was well supplied with delicious drinks and dainty edibles. Around the edge of this aerial abode boxes of flowers bloomed in profusion. There were quantities of sweet peas of every hue, and the chimney was covered with a trellis of scarlet runners. Bachelor's buttons gayly flirted with the modest pansies. There were gorgeous nas-

turtiums and a long box of mountain ferns; also a clump of morning glories that had climbed skyward to the top of the trellis. But it is at evening that the roof garden is pleasantest, especially when lighted by the moon and when distance lends enchantment to the numerous street bands.--Boston Courier.

Stranded In Artistic Surroundings.

It is really amusing and sometimes pitiful to see how men suffer from the artistic mania of their wives. I know of a case where a husband was now allowed to touch any of the furniture in the drawing room for fear he would disturb the effect of color and outline. He wisely stipulated, however, that he should have his own chair in the room, which he was to be at liberty to do with as he liked.

Being a man of infinite jest he managed to evolve the most delightful and comic situations when visitors were pres-

ent, explaining that it was his want of artistic feeling which made it necessary for him to carry his chair about with him. He asked that when his friends

contemplated their surroundings from an artistic point of view they should kindly consider him and his chair out of the picture. Needless to say it was not

very long before all restrictions were withdrawn and he was allowed to work what havoc he pleased in the drawing

room as well as everywhere else in the house.--Boston Globe.