THE PASSING THRONG

A GREAT DAY IN THE HISTORY OF THE TABERNACLE.

The Twenty-fifth Anniversary of Rev. Dr. Talmage's Brooklyn Pastorate--An Elo-

quent, Appropriate Discourse--Preaching to Twenty-five Million Souls.

BROOKLYN, May 6.--This was a great day in the history of the Brooklyn Tabernacle. The figures in flowers back of the platform--1869 and 1894--indicat-

ed Rev. Dr. Talmage's time of coming to Brooklyn and the present celebration and were introductory to the great meet-

ings in honor of Dr. Talmage's pastorate to take place on the following Thurs-

day and Friday, presided over by the mayor of the city and the ex-secretary of the navy, General Tracy, and to be participated in by senators and governors and prominent men from north, south, east and west. The subject of the ser-

mon today was "The Generations," the text being Ecclesiastes i, 4, "One gen-

eration passeth away, and another generation cometh."

According to the longevity of people in their particular century has a gener-

ation been called 100 years, or 50 years, or 30 years. By common consent in our nineteenth century a generation is fixed at 25 years.

The largest procession that ever moved is the procession of years, and the greatest army that ever marched is the army of generations. In each generation there are about nine full regiments of days. These 9,125 days in each gener-

ation march with wonderful precision. They never break ranks. They never ground arms. They never pitch tents. They never halt. They are never off on

furlough. They came out of the eternity past, and they move on toward the eternity future. They cross rivers with out any bridge or boats. The 600 immortals of the Crimea dashing into them cause no confusion. They move as rap-

idly at midnight as at midnoon. Their haversacks are full of good bread and bitter aloes, clusters of richest vintage and bottles of agonizing tears. With a regular tread that no order of "dou-

ble quick" can hasten or obstacle can slacken, their tramp is on and on and on and on while mountains crumble and pyramids die. "One generation passeth, and another generation cometh."

A Generation.

This is my twenty-fifth anniversary sermon--1869 and 1894. It is 25 years since I assumed the Brooklyn pastorate. A whole generation has passed. Three generations we have known--that which preceded our own, that which is now at the front, and the one coming on. We are at the heels of our predecessors, and our successors are at our heels. What a generation it was that preceded us! We who are now in the front regiment are the only ones competent to tell the new generation just now coming in sight who our predecessors were. Biography cannot tell it. Autobiography can-

not tell it. Biographies are generally written by special friends of the depart-

ed--perhaps by wife or son or daughter--and they only tell the good things. The biographies of one of the first presi-

dents of the United States make no record of the president's account books, now in the archives at the capitol, which I have seen, telling how much he lost or gained daily at the gaming table. The biographers of one of the early secretaries of the United States never described the scene that day wit-

nessed when the secretary was carried dead drunk from the state apartments to his own home. Autobiography is

written by the man himself, and no one would record for future times his own weaknesses and moral deficits. Those who keep diaries put down only things that read well. No man or woman that ever lived would dare to make full record of all the thoughts and words of a lifetime. We who saw and heard much

of the generation just ahead of us are far more able than any book to describe accurately to our successors

who our predecessors were. Very much like ourselves, thank you. Human na-

ture in them very much like human naure in us. At our time of life they were very much like we now are. At the time they were in their teens they were

very much like you are in your teens, and at the time they were in their twen-

ties they were very much like you are in your twenties. Human nature got an awful twist under a fruit tree in Eden, and though the grace of God does much to straighten things every new gener-

ation has the same twist, and the same work of straightening out has to be done over again.

Twenty-five Years Back. A mother in the country districts, expecting the neighbors at her table on

some gala night, had with her own hands arranged everything in taste, and as she was about to turn from it to receive her

guests saw her little child by accident upset a pitcher all over the white cloth and roil everything, and the mother lifted her hand to slap the child but she suddenly remembered the time

when a little child herself, in her father's house where they had always before been used to candles on the purchase of a lamp which was a matter of rarity and pride, she took it in

her hands and dropped it, crashing into pieces, and looking up in her father's face, expecting chastisement, heard only the words, "It is a sad loss, but never mind; you did not mean to do it."

History repeats itself. Generations wonderfully alike. Among that gener-

ation that is past, as in our town, and as it will be in the generation following us, those who succeeded became the target, shot at by those who did not succeed. In those times, as ours, a man's bitterest enemies were those whom he had befriended and helped. Hates, jealousies and revenges were just as lively in 1869 as in 1894. Hypocrisy sniffled and looked solemn then as now.

There was just as much avarice among the apple barrels as now among the cot-

ton bales and among the wheelbarrows as among the locomotives. The tallow candles saw the same sins that are now found under the electric lights. Home-

spun was just as proud as is the mod-

ern fashion plate. Twenty-five years--yea, 25 centuries--have not changed human nature a particle. I say this for the encouragement of those who think that our times monopolize all the abom-

inations of the ages. One minute after Adam got outside of paradise he was just like you, O man! One step after Eve left the gate she was just like you, O woman! All

the faults and vices are many times centenarians. Yea, the cities of Sodom, Gomorrah, Pompei, Herculaneum, Heli-

opolis and ancient Memphis were as much worse than our modern cities as you might expect from the fact that the modern cities have somewhat yield-

ed to the restraints of Christianity, while those ancient cities were not lim- ited in their abominations.

Great Works Accomplished. Yea, that generation which passed off within the last 25 years had their bereavements, their temptations, their struggles, their disappointments, their successes, their failures, their gladnesses and their griefs, like these two generations now in sight, that in advance and that following. But the 25 years between 1869 and 1894--how much they saw! How much they discovered!

How much they felt! Within that time have been performed the miracles of the telephone and the phonograph.

From the observatories other worlds have been seen to heave in sight. Six presidents of the United States have been inaugurated. Transatlantic voyage abbreviated from 10 days to 5½. Chi-

cago and New York, once three days apart, now only 24 hours by the vesti-

bule limited. Two additional railroads have been built to the Pacific. France has passed from monarchy to republicanism. Many of the cities have nearly doubled their populations. During that generation the chief surviving heroes of the civil war have gone into the en-

campment of the grave. The chief phy-

sicians, attorneys, orators, merchants, have passed off the earth or are in retirement waiting for transition. Other men in editorial chairs, in pulpits, in governors' mansions, in legislative, senatorial and congressional halls. There are not 10 men or women on earth now prominent who were prominent 25 years ago. The crew of this old ship of a world is all changed. Others at the helm, others on the "lookout," others climbing the ratlines. Time is a doctor who, with potent anodyne, has put an entire generation into sound sleep. Time, like another Cromwell, has

roughly prorogued parliament, and with iconoclasm driven nearly all the rulers except one queen from their high places. So far as I observed that generation, for the most part they did their best. Ghastly exceptions, but so far as I knew them they did quite well, and many of them gloriously well. They were born at the right time, and they died at the right time. They left the world better than they found it. We are indebted to them for the fact that they prepared the way for our coming. Eighteen hundred and ninety-four reverently and grateful salutes 1869. "One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh."

There are fathers and mothers here whom I baptized in their infancy. There is not one person in this church's board of session or trustees who was here when I came. Here and there in this vast assembly is one person who heard my opening sermon in Brooklyn but not more than one person in every 500 now present. Of the 17 persons who

gave me a unanimous call when I came, only three, I believe, are living.

The Major Key.

But this sermon is not a dirge. It is an anthem. While this world is appro-

priate as a temporary stay, as an eternal residence it would be a dead failure. It would be a dreadful sentence if

our race were doomed to remain here a thousand winters and a thousand sum-

mers. God keeps us here just long enough to give us an appetite for heav-

en. Had we been born in celestial realms we would not have been able to appreciate the bliss. It needs a good many rough blasts in this world to qualify us to properly estimate the superb climate

of that good land where it is never too cold or too hot, too cloudy or too glar-

ing. Heaven will be more to us than to those supernal beings who were

never tempted or sick or bereaved or tried or disappointed. So you may well take my text out of the minor key and set it to

some tune in major key. "One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh."

Nothing can rob us of the satisfaction that uncounted thousands of gener-

ations just past were converted, comfort-

ed and harvested for heaven by this church, whether in the present building or the three preceding buildings in which they worshiped. The two great organs of the previous churches went down in the memorable fires, but the multitudinous songs they led year after year were not recalled or injured. There is no power in earth or hell to kill a hallelujah. It is impossible to arrest a hosanna. What a satisfaction to know that there are many thousands in glory on whose eternal welfare this church wrought mightily! Nothing can undo that work. They have ascended, the multitudes who served God in that generation. That chapter is gloriously ended. But that generation has left its impression upon this generation. A sailor was dying on shipboard, and he said to his mates, "My lads, I can only think of one passage of Scripture. 'The soul that sinneth, it shall die,' and that keeps ringing in my ears. 'The soul that sinneth, it shall die.' Can't you think of something else in the Bible to cheer me up?" Well, sailors are kind, and they tried to think of some other passage of Scripture with which to con-

sole their dying comrade, but they could not. One of them said: "Let us call up the cabin boy. His mother was a Chris-

tian, and I guess he has a Bible." The captain boy was called up, and the dying sailor asked him if he had a Bible. He said "Yes," but he could not exactly find it, and the dying sailor scolded him and said, "Ain't you ashamed of yourself not to read your Bible?" So the boy explored the bottom of his trunk and

brought out the Bible, and his mother had marked a passage that just fitted the dying sailor's case, "The blood of Jesus Christ, his son, cleanseth from all sin." That helped the sailor to die in peace. So one generation helps another, and good things written or said or done are reproduced long afterward.

The World For an Audience.

During the passing of the last generation some peculiar events have unfolded. One day while resting at Sharon Springs, N. Y., I think it was in 1870, the year after my settlement in Brooklyn, and while walking in the park of that place, I found myself asking the question: "I wonder if there is any special mission for me to execute in this world? If there is, may God show it to me!" There soon came upon me a great desire to preach the gospel through the secular printing press. I realized that the vast majority of people, even in Christian lands, never enter a church, and that it would be an opportunity of usefulness infinite if that door of publication were opened. And so I recorded that prayer in a blank book and offered the prayer day in and day out until the answer came, though in a way different from that which I had expected, for it came through the misrepresentation adn persecution of enemies, and I have to record it for the encouragement of all ministers of the gospel who are misrepresented, that if the misrepresentation be virulent enough and bitter enough and continuous enough there is nothing that so widens one's field of usefulness as hostile attack, if you are really

doing the Lord's work. The bigger the lie told about me, the bigger the de-

mand to see and hear what I really was doing. From one stage of sermonic publication to another the work has gone on until week by week, and for about 23 years, I have had the world for my audience, as no man ever had, and to day more so than at any other time. The syndicates inform me that my sermons go now to about 25,000,000 of people in all lands. I mention this not in vain boast, but as a testimony to the fact that God answers prayer. Would God I had better occupied the field and been more consecrated to the work!

May God forgive me for lack of service in the past and double and quadruple and quintuple my work in future.

In this my quarter century sermon I record the fact that side by side with the procession of blessings has gone a procession of disasters. I am preaching today in the fourth church building since I began in this city. My first sermon was in the old church on Schermerhorn street to an audience chiefly of empty seats, for the church was almost extinguished. That church filled and overflowing, we built a larger church, which after two or three years disappeared in flame. Then we built another church, which also in a line of fiery succession disappeared in the same way. Then we put up this building, and may it stand for many years, a fortress of righteousness and a lighthouse for the storm tossed, its gates crowded with vast assemblages long after we have ceased to frequent them!

A Noble Work. We have raised in this church over $1,030,000 for church charitable purposes during the present pastorate, while we have given, free of all expense, the gospel to hundreds of thousands of strangers, year by year. I record with gratitude to God that during this generation of 25 years I remember but two Sabbaths that I have missed service through anything like physical indispositions. Almost a fanatic on the subject of physical exercise, I have made the parks with which our city is blessed the means of good physical condition. A daily walk and run in the open air have kept me ready for work and in good humor with all the world. I say to all young ministers of the gospel, it is easier to keep good health than to regain it when once lost. The reason so many good men think the world is going to ruin is because their own physical condition is on the down grade. No

man ought to preach who has a diseased liver or an enlarged spleen. There are two things ahead of us that ought to keep us cheerful in our work--heaven and the millennium.

And now having come up to the twenty-fifth milestone in my pastor-

ate, I wonder how many more miles I am to travel. Your company has been exceedingly pleasant, O my dear people, and I would like to march by your side until the generation with whom we are now moving abreast and step to step shall have stacked arms after the last battle. But the Lord knows best, and we ought to be willing to stay or go. A Summer Outing. Most of you are aware that I propose at this time, between the close of my twenty-fifth year of pastorate and before the beginning of my twenty-sixth year, to be absent for a few months in order to take a journey around the world. I expect to sail from San Francisco in the steamer Alameda May 31. My place here on Sabbaths will be fully occupied, while on Mondays and every Monday I will continue to speak through the printing press in this and other lands as heretofore. Why do I go? To make pastoral visitation among people whom I have never seen, but to whom I have been permitted a long while to administer. I want to see them in their own cities, towns and neighborhoods. I want to know what are their prosperi-

ties, what their adversities and what their opportunities, and so enlarge my work and get more adaptedness. Why do I go? For educational purposes. I

want to freshen my mind and heart by new scenes, new faces, new manners and customs. I want better to understand what are the wrongs to be righted and the waste places to be reclaimed. I will put all I learn in sermons to be preached to you when I return. I want to see the Sandwich Islands, not so much in the light of modern politics as in the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ, which has trans-

formed them, and Samoa, and those vast realms of New Zealand, and Australia and Ceylon and India. I want to see what Christianity has accomplished. I want to see how the missionaries have been lied about as living in luxury and idleness.

I want to know whether the heathen religions are really as tolerable and as commendable as they were represented by their adherents in the parliament of religions at Chicago. I want to see whether Mohammedanism and Bud-

dhism would be good things for trans-

plantation in America, as it has again and again been argued. I want to hear the Brahmans pray. I want to test whether

the Pacific ocean treats its guests any better than does the Atlantic. I want to see the wondrous architecture of In-

dia, and the Delhi and Cawnpore where Christ was crucified in the massacre of his modern disciples, and the disabled Juggernaut unwheeled by Christianity, and to see if the Taj which the Emperor Sha Jehan built in honor of his empress really means any more than the plain

slab we put above our dear departed. I want to see the fields where Havelock and Sir Colin Campbell won the day against the sepoys. I want to see the world from all sides. How much of it is in darkness, how much of it is in light, what the Bible means by the "ends of the earth" and get myself ready to appreciate the extent of the present to be made to Christ as spoken of in the Psalms, "Ask of me, and I

shall give thee the heathen for thine in-

heritance and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession," and so I shall be ready to celebrate in heaven the victories of Christ in more rapturous song than I could have rendered had I never seen the heathen abominations before they were conquered. And so I hope to come back refreshed, re-enforced and better equipped to do in 10 years more effectual work than I have done in the last 25. A Garland and a Palm. And now, in this twenty-fifth anniversary sermon, I propose to do two things--first, to put a garland on the grave of the generation that has just passed off and then to put a palm branch in the hand of the generation just now coming on the field of action, for my text is true, "One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh." Oh, how many we revered and honored and loved in the last generation that quit the earth! Tears fell at the time of their going, and dirges were sounded, and signals of mourning were put on, but neither tears nor dirge nor somber veil told the half we felt. Their going left a vacancy in our souls that has never been filled up. We never get used to their absence. There are times when the sight of something with which they were associated--a picture, or a book, or a garment, or a staff--breaks us down with emotion, but we bear it simply because we have to bear it. Oh, how snowy white their hair got, and how the wrinkles multiplied, and the sight grew more dim, and the hearing less alert, and the step more frail, and one day they were gone out of the chair by the fireside, and from the plate at the meal, and from the end of the

church pew, where they worshiped with us. Oh, my soul, how we miss them.

But let us console each other with the thought that we shall meet them again in the land of salutation and reunion. And now I twist a garland for that departed generation. It need not be costly perhaps just a handful of clover blossoms from the field through which they used to walk, or as many violets as you could hold between the thumb and the forefinger, plucked out of the garden where they used to walk in the cool of the day. Put these old fashioned flowers right down over the heart that never again will ache, and the feet that will never again be weary, and the arm that has forever ceased to toil. Peace, father! Peace, mother! Everlasting peace! All that for the generation gone.

The Moving Throng.

But what shall we do with the palm branch? That we will put in the hand of the generation coming on. Yours is to be the generation for victories. The last and the present generation have been perfecting the steam power, and the electric light, and the electric forces. To these will be added transportation. It will be your mission to use all these forces. Everything is ready now for you to march right up and take this world for God and heaven. Get your heart right by repentance and the pardoning grace of the Lord Jesus, and your mind right by elevating books and pictures, and your body right by gymnasium and field exercise, and plenty of ozone and by looking as often as you can upon the face of mountain and of sea. Then start. In God's name, start! And here is the palm branch. From conquest to conquest, move right on and right up. You

will soon have the whole field for your

self. Before another 25 years have gone we will be out of the pulpits, and the

offices, and the stores, and the factories, and the benevolent institutions, and you will be at the front. Forward into the battle! If God be for you, who can be against you? "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also

freely give us all things?"

And, as for us who are now at the front, having put the garland on the grave of the last generation, and having put the palm branch in the hand of the coming generation, we will cheer each other in the remaining onsets and go in to the shining gate somewhere about the same time, and greeted by the generation that has preceded us we will have to wait only a little while to greet the generation that will come after us. And will not that be glorious? Three generations in heaven together--the grandfather, the son and the grandson; the grandmother, the daughter and the granddaughter. And so with wider range and keener faculty we shall realize the full significance of the text, "One generation passeth away, and another

generation cometh." Identification by the Teeth.

The identification of bodies that have been mutilated beyond recognition by the usual rules has until recently been so difficult that every year hundreds of bodies of heroes have been consigned to

nameless graves.

But a new system of identification has been discovered that is as accurate and unfailing as is the famous system of measurement employed by Paris police in keeping track of the criminals of France. It is identification by means of the teeth. It was first suggested and put into practice by a New York dentist. For years it has been the custom of all first class dentists to keep a complete chart of the teeth of all their patients, together with a record of all their fillings, removals or other work done to the masticators. These charts and records are carefully filed away and are kept as long as the patient lives. A comparison of several hundred of these charts recently made in New York showed that no two of them were identically alike. The first and most noted instance where identification by the teeth was made conclusive was in the case of Norcross, the dynamiter who attempted the life of Russell Sage and was blown to pieces. While a trousers button furnished the first view to his identity, it was not until his teeth were examined by his dentist that the identity was recognized by the young man's parents.--

Chicago Times.

Choice Woods on the Farm. There is money in the choice woods of the farm. A letter from a prominent New Jersey tool manufacturer offers $30 per 1,000 for beech seasoned one year and $50 for apple wood. Birch, maple, cherry, elm and hickory also sell for much more than they are worth at the woodpile. The wood must be sawed in some shape and can be sold in a great many directions, principally for making plane and other tool handles.--Detroit House- hold.

Dissolved Diamonds. A writer in The Popular Science News says that diamonds are rapidly dissolved when heated in carbonate of potash. There is production of carbonic oxide, but no hydrogen is given off.

A Famous Steamboat Race. The famous race between the Hannibal City and the Ocean Spray occurred in 1859. Prior to this race the Ocean Spray had splendid records. The race was from St. Louis to Keokuk. The early part of the race was very close, and the excitement was intense. When nearing Bissell's point, the Ocean Spray found the Hannibal City passing her. The mate on the Ocean Spray, one Davis, becoming desperate, ordered the head of a barrel of turpentine to be knocked in. His men were then ordered to dip the wood in this turpentine before putting it in the furnace, the object being to quickly increase the steam pressure. The Ocean Spray was supposed to carry only 160 pounds of steam, but Davis thought that by "putting another rigger on the safety valve" he could run the pressure up to 200 pounds and distance his rival. In carrying the dripping wood to the furnace the track became saturated with turpentine, which caught fire from the open furnace. The flames quickly reached the barrel. An attempt was made to throw the barrel overboard, but it exploded, and the burning oil being scattered all around the boat was soon a mass of flames. Scott Matson was captain on the Hannibal City. He was a brave and generous man, and in this instance these two qualities made his name famous. Notwithstanding the imminent danger, he ran his boat alongside the burning one and rescued every person on board. Davis, the mate of the burned boat, was afterward convicted and sent to the penitentiary for such gross violation of the rules of safety. He was later pardoned. --St. Louis Letter. Somebody's Father. I think that one of the saddest incidents of the war which I witnessed was after the battle of Gettysburg. Off on the outskirts, seated on the ground with his back to a tree, was a dead soldier. His eyes were riveted on some object held tightly clasped in his hands. As we drew nearer we saw that it was an ambrotype of two small children. Man though I was, hardened through those long years to carnage and bloodshed, the sight of that man who looked on his children for the last time in this world, who, away off in a secluded spot, had rested himself against a tree that he might feast his eyes on his little loves, brought tears to my eyes which I could not restrain had I wanted. There were six of us in the crowd, and we all found great lumps gathering in our throats and mist coming before our eyes which almost blinded us.

We stood looking at him for some time. I was thinking of the wife and baby I had left at home and wondering how soon, in the mercy of God, she would be left a widow and my baby boy fatherless. We looked at each other and instinctively seemed to understand one another's thoughts. Not a word was spoken, but we dug a grave and laid the poor fellow to rest with his children's picture clasped over his heart. Over his grave on the tree against which he was sitting I inscribed the words: "Somebody's Father. July 3, 1863."--Blue and Gray.

Exploded Traditions at Old Yale.

Both South college and the Athenæum have their now blasted traditions. As to the former, it has been alleged in New

Haven--and at least one prominent archæologist has indorsed the story--that about the time the college was built there was a mysterious hiatus of gravestones in the old cemetery on the New Haven green. The tradition then averred that these stones had been built into the fireplaces of South college, where they would be found when the structure was pulled down. Here was the fine hint for a college ghost story, based on a spectral apparition of the affronted owner of one of the stones, but, if ever penned, it is outlawed now by the discovery that every fireplace in Old South was of simple brick. Then, again, President Stiles' diary notes the confession of a student that he had stolen the college Bible, dropped it between the courses of mason work during the building of the Athenæum (1763), and that there the sacred volume had been bricked up--a myth proved so now by the fall of the Athenæum's walls without the filched Bible's reappearance. --New Haven Cor. New York Post.

Board on Mississippi Steamers.

The great Mississippi steamers which used to run as far as New Orleans and the accommodation on board, which was simply magnificent, had ceased to ply when the war broke out, but on numerous occasions I was able to avail myself of the elegant comforts to be found on board a river steamer. The fare on board the American steamers I always found plentiful in quantity and tolerable in quality; still it must be admitted that there were many stock jokes current as to the meagerness of the provisions supplied by the steamship company to their guests, and among these was a story about Barnum, who, demanding once a beefsteak at supper, had handed over his shoulder by the negro waiter a piece of rather thin and certainly overgrilled flesh, which he described as resembling in form and color an Ethiop's ear. "That's what I mean," quoth the great showman: "bring me some." He professed to regard the Ethiop's ear as only a sample of the steak that was to come.--G. A. Sala in London Telegraph.

Nebuchadnezzar's Doorstep.

In the Egyptian and Assyrian gallery of the British museum and in close con-

tinguity to the Hittite monuments and the bronze gates of Shalmanezar may be seen an object of more than ordinary in-terest--a very common looking bronze doorstep from the great temple of E-Lag-gil at Borsippa, a suburb of Babylon. This doorstep, ordinary as it appears, is of great historical value, as it not only has the name of King Nebuchadnezzar inscribed upon it, but also mentions his restoration to health and power. It is no doubt a native offering and an object of great antiquity.--Philadelphia Press.

Expressive Nicknames.

They have a rage for nicknames down at Marblehead. There are so many of them that now a directory is seriously under consideration. A veteran boatman whose nether limbs describe almost a circle is given the euphonious appellative of "Ice Tongs," and answers to it now among his friends congenial as readily as to his own family patronymic. Another townsman walking stiffly along the winding streets with both arms hanging straight down before him is hailed as "Half Past Six," both hands down, you know.--Boston Journal.

GREAT BARGAINS IN SPRING & SUMMER 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.

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.

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.

DESIRABLE COTTAGES FOR SALE OR RENT. If you intend visiting the seashore the coming season, call on or write R. CURTIS ROBINSON, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENT, 744 ASBURY AVENUE, OCEAN CITY, N. J., who has on hand a number of desirable furnished and unfurnished cottages. Full information given on application. Building lots for sale in every section of the city.

Insurance written by first class Companies. Come and see me before insuring else- where.

Money to loan on Bond and Mortgage on Improved Property.