ZIKLAG IN ASHES! DR. TALMAGE'S ELOQUENT SERMON AT LITTLE ROCK.

Burning of the Village of David by the Amalekites the Theme of His Discourse. We Must Fight Like the Warriors of Old to Recover Our Loved Ones.

LITTLE ROCK, May 20.--On his way to California, whence he will start on May 31 on his round the world journey, Rev. Dr. Talmage, having halted here, preached today to a large audience on the subject of "Recovered Families." The text chosen was I Samuel xxx, 4, 19: "Then David and the people that were with him lifted up their voice and wept until they had no more power to weep. ● ● ● David recovered all." There is intense excitement in the village of Ziklag. David and his men are bidding goodby to their families and are off for the wars. In that little village of Ziklag the defenseless ones will be safe until the warriors, flushed with victory, come home. But will the defenseless ones be safe? The soft arms of children are around the necks of the bronze warriors until they shake themselves free and start, and handkerchiefs and flags are waved and kisses thrown until the armed men vanish beyond the hills. David and his men soon get through with their campaign and start homeward. Every night on their way home no sooner does the soldier put his head on the knapsack than in his dream he hears the welcome of the wife and

the shout of the child.

Oh, what long stories they will have to tell their families of how they dodged the battleax, and then will roll up their sleeve and show the half healed wound. With glad, quick step, they march on, David and his men, for they are marching home. Now they come up to the last hill which overlooks Ziklag, and they expect in a moment to see the dwelling places of their loved ones. They look, and as they look their cheek turns pale, and their lip quivers, and their hand involuntarily comes down on the hilt of the sword. "Where is Ziklag? Where are our homes?" they cry. Alas, the curling smoke above the

ruin tells the tragedy! Captured by the Enemy.

The Amalekites have come down and consumed the village and carried the mothers, and the wives, and the children of David and his men into captivity. The swarthy warriors stand for a few moments transfixed with horror. Then their eyes glance to each other, and they burst into uncontrollable weeping, for when a strong warrior weeps the grief is appalling. It seems as if the emotion might tear him to pieces. They "wept until they had no more power to

weep." But soon their sorrow turns in-

to rage, and David, swinging his sword high in the air, cries, "Pursue, for thou shalt overtake them, and without fail

recover all." Now the march becomes a "double quick." Two hundred of David's men stop by the brook Besor, faint with fatigue and grief. They can-

not go a step farther. They are left there. But the other 400 men under David, with a sort of panther step,

march on in sorrow and in rage. They find by the side of the road a half dead Egyptian, and they resuscitate him and

compel him to tell the whole story. He says, "Yonder they went, the captors and the captives," pointing in the direction. Forward, ye 400 brave men of fire.

Very soon David and his enraged company come upon the Amalekitish host. Yonder they see their own wives

and children and mothers, and under Amalekitish guard. Here are the offi-

cers of the Amalekitish army holding a banquet. The cups are full; the music is roused; the dance begins. The Amalekitish host cheer and cheer and cheer over their victory. But, without note of bugle or warning of trumpet, David and his 400 men burst upon the scene.

David and his men look up, and one glance at their loved ones in captivity and under Amalekitish guard throws them into a very fury of determination, for you know how men will fight when they fight for their wives and children.

Ah, there are lightnings in their eye, and every finger is a spear, and their voice is like the shout of the whirlwind!

Amid the upset tankards and the cost-

ly viands crushed underfoot, the wounded Amalekites lie, their blood mingling with their wine, shrieking for

mercy. No sooner do David and his men win the victory than they throw their swords down into the dust--what do they want with swords now?--and

the broken families come together amid a great shout of joy that makes the parting scene in Ziklag seem very

insipid in the comparison. The rough old warrior has to use some persuasion before he can get his child to come to him now after so long an absence, but

soon the little finger traces the familiar wrinkle across the scarred face. And then the empty tankards are set up, and they are filled with the best wine from the hills, and David and his men, the husbands, the wives, the brothers, the sisters, drink to the overthrow of the

Amalekites and to the rebuilding of Ziklag. So, O Lord, let thine enemies perish!

Spoils of Victory. Now they are coming home, David and his men and their families--a long procession. Men, women and children, loaded with jewels and robes and with

all kinds of trophies that the Amale-

kites had gathered up in years of con-quest--everything now in the hands of David and his men. When they come by the brook Besor, the place where

staid the men sick and incompetent to travel, the jewels and the robes and all kinds of treasures are divided among the sick as well as among the well.

Surely the lame and exhausted ought to have some of the treasures. Here is a robe for a pale faced warrior. Here is

a pillow for this dying man. Here is a handful of gold for the wasted trumpeter. I really think that these men who fainted by the brook Besor may have endured as much as those men who went into the battle. Some mean fel-

lows objected to the sick ones having any of the spoils. The objection said,

"These men did not fight." David, with a magnanimous heart, replies, "As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the staff."

Riklag In Ashes.

This subject is practically suggestive to me. Thank God, in these times a man can go off on a journey and be gone weeks and months and come back and see his house untouched of incen-

diary and have his family on the step to greet him if by telegram he has fore-

told the moment of his coming. But there are Amalekitish disasters, there are Amalekitish diseases that sometimes come down upon one's home, making as devastating work as the day when Ziklag took fire. There are

families you represent broken up. No battering ram smote in the door, no iconoclast crumbled the statues, no flame leaped amid the curtains, but so far as all the joy and merriment that once belonged to that house are concerned the home has departed.

Armed diseases came down upon the quietness of the scene--scarlet fevers or pleurisies or consumptions or undefined

disorders came and seized upon some members of that family and carried them away. Ziklag in ashes! And you go about, sometimes weeping and sometimes enraged, wanting to get back your loved ones as much as David and his men wanted to reconstruct their despoiled households. Ziklag in ashes! Some of you went off from home. You counted the days of your absence. Every day seemed as long as a week. Oh, how glad you were when the time came for you to go aboard the steamboat or railcar and start for home! You arrived. You went up the street where your dwelling was, and in the night you put your hand on the doorbell, and, behold!

it was wrapped with the signal of be-

reavement, and you found that Amalekitish death, which has devastated a thousand other households, had blasted

yours. You go about weeping amid the desolation of your once happy home, thinking of the bright eyes closed, and the noble hearts stopped, and the gentle hands folded, and you weep until you have no more power to weep. Ziklag in ashes! A gentleman went to a friend of mine in the city of Washington and asked that through him he might get a consulship to some foreign port. My friend said to him, "What do you want to go away from your beautiful home for into a foreign port?" "Oh," he replied, "my home is gone! My six children are dead. I must get away, sir. I can't stand it in this country any longer." Ziklag in ashes!

Shadows of Bereavement. Why these long shadows of bereavement across this audience? Why is it that in almost every assemblage black is the predominant color of the apparel? Is it because you do not like saffron or brown or violet? Oh, no! You say, "The world is not so bright to us as once it was," and then there is a story of silent voices, and of still feet, and of loved ones gone, and when you look over the hills expecting only beauty and loveliness you find only devastation and woe. Ziklag in ashes! One day, in Ulster county, N. Y., the village church was decorated until the fragrance of the flowers was almost bewildering. The maidens of the village had emptied the place of flowers upon one marriage altar. One of their own

number was affianced to a minister of Christ, who had come to take her to his own home. With hands joined, amid a congratulatory audience, the vows were taken. In three days from that time one of those who stood at the altar exchanged earth for heaven. The wedding march broke down into the funeral dirge. There were not enough flowers now for the coffin lid, because they had all been taken for the bridal hour. The dead minister of Christ is brought to another village. He had gone out from them less than a week before in his strength; now he comes home lifeless. The whole church bewailed him. The solemn procession moved around to look upon the still face that once had beamed the messages of salvation. Little children were lifted

up to look at him. And some of those whom he had comforted in days of sorrow, when they passed that silent form, made the place dreadful with their weeping. Another village emptied of its flowers--some of them put in the shape of a cross to symbolize his hope, others put in the shape of a crown to symbolize his triumph. A hundred lights blown out in one strong gust from the open door of a sepulcher. Ziklag in ashes!

Heaven to Win.

I preach this sermon today because I want to rally you, as David rallied his men, for the recovery of the loved and the lost. I want not only to win heaven, but I want all this congregation to go along with me. I feel that somehow I have a responsibility in your arriving at that great city. Do you really want to join the companionship of your loved ones who have gone? Are you as anxious to join them as David and his men were to join their families? Then I am here, in the name of God, to say that you may and to tell you how. I remark, in the first place if you want to join your loved ones in glory, you must travel the same way they went.

No sooner had the half dead Egyptian been resurrected than he pointed the way the captors and the captives had gone, and David and his men followed after. So our Christian friends have gone into another country, and if we want to reach their companionship we must take the same road. They repent-

ed. We must repent. They prayed. We must pray. They trusted in Christ. We must trust in Christ. They lived a re-

ligious life. We must live a religious life. They were in some things like our-

selves. I know, now they are gone, there is a halo around their names, but they had their faults. They said and did things they ought never to have said or

done. They were sometimes rebellious, sometimes cast down. They were far from being perfect. So I suppose that

when we have gone some things in us that are now only tolerable may be almost resplendent. But as they were like us in deficiencies we ought to be like

them in taking a supernal Christ to make up for the deficits. Had it not been for Jesus they would have all perished, but Christ confronted them and said, "I am the way," and they took it.

The Path of Trouble.

I have also to say to you that the path that those captives trod was a troubled path, and that David and his men had to go over the same difficult way.

While these captives were being taken off they said, "Oh, we are so tired; we are so sick; we are so hungry!" But the men who had charge of them said:

"Stop this crying. Go on!" David and his men also found it a hard way. They had to travel it. Our friends have gone into glory, and it is through much trib-

ulation that we are to enter into the kingdom. How our loved ones used to have to struggle! How their old hearts ached! How sometimes they had a tus-

sle for bread! In our childhood we wondered why there were so many wrin-

kles on their faces. We did not know that what were called "crow's feet" on their faces were marks of the black

raven of trouble. Did you never hear the old people, seated by the evening stand, talk over their early trials, their hardships, the accidents, the burials,

the disappointments, the empty flour barrel when there were so many hungry ones to feed, the sickness almost unto

death, where the next dose of morphine decided between ghastly bereavement and an unbroken home circle? Oh, yes!

It was trouble that whitened their hair.

It was trouble that shook the cup in their hands. It was trouble that washed the luster from their eyes with the rain

of tears until they needed spectacles. If was trouble that made the cane a ne-

cessity for their journey. Do you never remember seeing your old mother sitting on some rainy day looking out of the window, her elbow on the window sill,

her hand to her brow, looking out, not seeing the falling shower at all (you well knew she was looking into the distant past), until the apron came up to her eyes because the memory was too much for her?

Oft the big, unbidden tear, Stealing down the furrowed cheek, Told in eloquence sincere Tales of woe they could not speak. But, this scene of weeping o'er, Past this scene of toil and pain, They shall feel distress no more, Never, never weep again.

"Who are these under the altar?" the question was asked, and the response

came, "These are they which came out of great tribulation and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb." Our friends went by a path of tears into glory. Be not surprised if we have to travel the same pathway.

I remark again, if we want to win

the society of our friends in heaven, we will not only have to travel a path of faith and a path of tribulation, but we will also have to positively battle for their companionship. David and his men never wanted sharp swords, and

invulnerable shields, and thick breastplates so much as they wanted them on

the day when they came down upon the

Amalekites. If they had lost that battle, they never would have got their families back. I suppose that one glance at their loved ones in captivity hurled them into the battle with tenfold courage and energy. They said: "We must win it. Everything depends upon

it. Let each one take a man on point of spear or sword. We must win it."

And I have to tell you that between us and coming into the companionship of our loved ones who are departed there is an Austerlitz, there is a Gettysburg, there is a Waterloo. War with the world, war with the flesh, war with the devil. We have either to conquer our troubles, or our troubles will conquer us. David will either slay the Amalekites, or the Amalekites will slay David. And yet is not the fort to be taken worth all the pain, all the peril, all the besiegement?

Look! Who are they on the bright hills of heaven yonder? There they are, those who sat at your own table, the chair now vacant. There they are, those

whom you rocked in infancy in the cradle or hushed to sleep in your arms.

There they are, those in whose life your life was bound up. There they are, their brow more radiant than ever before you saw it, their lips waiting for the kiss of heavenly greeting, their cheek roseate with the health of eternal summer, their hands beckoning you up the steep, the feet bounding with the mirth of heaven. The pallor of their last sickness gone out of their face, nevermore to be sick, nevermore to cough, nevermore to limp, nevermore to be old, nevermore to weep. They are watching from those heights to see if through Christ you can take that fort, and whether you will rush in upon them--victors. They know that upon this battle depends whether you will ever join their society. Up! Strike harder! Charge more bravely! Remember that every inch you gain puts you so much farther on toward that heavenly reunion.

Families Reunited.

If this morning while I speak you could hear the cannonade of a foreign enemy which was to despoil your city, and if they really should succeed in carrying your families away from you, how long would we take before we resolved

to go after them? Every weapon, whether fresh from the armory or old and rusty in the garret, would be brought out, and we would urge on, and coming in front of the foe we would look at them and then look at our fam-

ilies, and the cry would be, "Victory or death!" and when the ammunition was gone we would take the captors on the point of the bayonet or under the breech of the gun. If you would make such a struggle for the getting back of your earthly friends, will you not make as much struggle for the gaining of the eternal companionship of your heavenly friends? Oh, yes, we must join them! We must sit in their holy society. We must sing with them the song. We must celebrate with them the triumph. Let it never be told on earth or in heaven that David and his men pushed out with braver hearts for the getting back of their earthly friends for a few years on earth than we to get our departed!

You say that all this implies that our departed Christian friends are alive.

Why, had you any idea they were dead?

They have only moved. If you should go on the 2d of May to a house where one of your friends lived and find him gone, you would not think he was

dead. You would inquire next door where heh ad moved to. Our departed Christian friends have only taken another house. The secret is that they are

richer now than they once were and can afford a better residence. They once drank out of earthenware. They now drink from the King's chalice. "Joseph

is yet alive," and Jacob will go up and see him. Living, are they? Why, if a man can live in this damp, dark dungeon of earthly captivity, can he not live where he breathes the bracing atmosphere of the mountains of heaven? Oh, yes, they are living! Do you think that Paul is so near dead now as he was when he was living in the Roman dungeon? Do you think that Frederick Robertson of Brighton is as near dead now as he was when, year after year, he slept seated on the floor, his head on the bottom of a chair because he could find ease in no other position? Do you think that Robert Hall is as near dead now as when on his couch he tossed in physical tortures? No. Death gave them the few black drops that cured

them. That is all death does to a Chris-

tian--cures him. I know that what I have said implies that they are living. There is no question about that. The only question this morning is whether you will ever join them.

The Glorious Promise.

But I must not forget those 200 men who fainted by the brook Besor. They could not take another step farther.

Their feet were sore; their head ached; their entire nature was exhausted. Besides that they were broken hearted because their homes were gone. Ziklag in ashes! And yet David, when he comes up to them, divides the spoils among them! He says they shall have some of the jewels, some of the robes, some of

the treasures. I look over this audience this morning, and I find at least 200 who have fainted by the brook Besor--

the brook of tears. You feel as if you could not take another step farther, as though you could never look up again. But I am going to imitate David and divide among you some glorious trophies. Here is a robe, "All things work together for good to those who love God." Wrap yourself in it, that glorious

promise. Here is for your neck a string of pearls made out of crystallized tears, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Here is a coronet, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Oh, ye fainting ones by the brook Besor, dip your blistered feet in the running stream of God's mercy, bathe your brow at the wells of salvation, soothe your wounds with the balsam that exudes

from trees of life. God will not utterly cast you off, O broken hearted man, O broken hearted woman, fainting by the brook Besor.

A shepherd finds that his musical pipe is bruised. He says: "I can't get any more music out of this instrument, so I will just break it, and I will throw this reed away. Then I will get another reed, and I will play music on that."

But God says he will not cast you off because all the music has gone out of your soul. "The bruised reed he will not break." As far as I can tell the diagnosis of your disease, you want divine nursing, and it is promised you, "As one who his mother comforteth so will I comfort you." God will see you all the way through, O troubled soul, and when you come down to the Jordan of death you will find it to be as thin a brook as Besor, for Dr. Robinson says that in April Besor dries up and there is no brook at all. And in your last moment you will be as placid as the Kentucky minister who went up to God, saying in the dying hour: "Write to my sister Kate and tell her not to be worried and frightened about the story of the horrors around the deathbed. Tell her there is not a word of truth in it, for I am there now, and Jesus is with me, and I find it a very happy way, not because I am a good man, for I am not. I am nothing but a poor, [?] sinner, but I have an Almighty Saviour, and both of his arms are around me." May God Almighty, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, bring us into the companionship of our loved ones who have already entered the heavenly land and into the presence of Christ, whom, not having seen, we love, and so David shall recover all, "and as his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the staff."

Washing Cotton Dresses.

If cotton dresses are properly made, there is no reason why they should not be washed many times. To make up sateens and ginghams with boned basques, heavily lined skirts and velvet bound edges is an absurdity. Bodices and skirts may be made together, belting in by means of a draw ribbon, which, being [?], reduces the gown to straight lines without folds. The frills and flounces about the shoulders are all set on draw ribbon headings and can also be let out flat. The big

sleeves are supplied with armhole set with a draw ribbon, by which it is narrowed for wear and widened for washing. Serpentine bodices are used also for wash dress designs, these bodices being practically two straight sash

pieces. There are no bones. Lace, if used on these gowns, is of good heavy washable, really more to be used than lace. If ribbon is employed, it is made into bows easily adjusted and removed, or it is used under insertion of lace or embroidery, and so can be pulled out when the gown goes to the tub.--Bos-ton Courier.

Centennial of the National Capital.

When the year 1900 arrives, it will be in order to celebrate the centennial of the establishment here of the national capital. The celebration should not be a small affair, nor ought it to be a mere fleeting show--a day of processions, bands, banners and oratory. It should be an exposition of what this nation has done in the hundred years since its seat of government was taken possession of by the few officials who then directed

affairs. The exposition of 1900 should be compact and select. Preliminary examinations by competent experts should determine the worthiness of proposed ex-

hibits, and only the best ought to be given space. An international exposition at that time would conflict with more than one European endeavor in the same line, but aside from that rather important consideration it would undoubtedly be better to make the affair national rather than international.--Washington Star.

Sloping Shoulders Again.

When the whistling winds of November call for capes, we shall see the slopping shoulder once more queen of fashion. The shawllike effect is to be introduced

again, so goodby to the athletic, tailor made shoulder, square set and Minervalike. The newest bodices have shoulder seams 5½ inches long, and all the trimming falls from a line over the point of the shoulder, which adds to the sloping effect of the bottlelike curves now de-

manded by the mode.

Wedding Innovations. At a recent wedding the little train bearers wore white satin frocks, with muslin fichus trimmed with bright blue ribbon, and on their heads hoods of white satin, faced back with blue velvet. At another recent wedding in England, the bride, who was the daughter of a general, cut the bride's loaf with her father's sword.

For Evening Company.

Delicate sandwiches are a nice addition to any menu for an evening company. They are generally placed on some fancy dish and passed to the guests

by the maidservant. The ladies are generally provided with seats, but it is not unusual for the men to stand and even assist in serving if the affair is an informal one.

IRVING ON INDIVIDUALITY.

Substance of the Actor's Address Before the Harvard Students.

There is usually, if not always, a general as well as a special truth or excellence in every great and spontaneous effortt, and the result which sprang from the power and genius of Daniel Webster or Patrick Henry or Abraham Lincoln is to be won by others in greater or less degree by similar [?]. But it must always be [?] in mind that

merely to imitate is not to apply a sim-

lar method. If any one of you have great thoughts or burning passion, you will need to copy no style or to limit

yourself to no method. Your thoughts will find their way to the hearts of others as surely as the upland waters burst their way to the sea. In fine, the gravest of all the lessons that art can teach is this: That truth is supreme and eter-

nal. No phase of art can achieve much on a false basis. Sincerity, which is the very touchstone of art, is instinctively

recognized by all. There were never truer and wiser words spoken than those of old Polonius:

To thine own self be true, And it must follow as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man.

But how can a man be true to him-

self if he does not know himself? "Know thyself" was a wisdom of the ancients.

But how can a man know himself if he mistrusts his own identity and if he

puts aside his special gifts in order to render himself an imperfect similitude of some one else?

Do not try to wrest from the future the birthright of some other by the trick of Esau's hairy hands. The blindness of Isaac was a type as well as a reality, for the world may be blind to one sense, as that father was, but to it, as to him, there remain other senses which blind-

ness cannot mar. The voice will betray, though the touch may deceive. Therefore I ask you to weigh well the advan-

tages which may present themselves to you before you try to part with, to min-

imize or to forego in any way your own individuality. Study it without being egotistic, and understanding the weak places shun their temptations and try to protect yourself by added strength.

Knowing yourself, you may learn to know others, and so in process of time you will both consciously and uncon-

sciously learn those abiding principles of human nature and of human charac-

ter which add to the knowledge and the progress of the world.--New York Advertiser.

A Joke on Congressman Blair.

Some wicked persons played a joke upon the Hon. Henry W. Blair of New Hampshire the other day by inducing a member of the "Old Homestead" com-

pany to dress up in his stage clothes and go to the capitol. He carried an old fashioned genuine carpetsack in his

hand and a gingham umbrella. The doorkeeper was much amused when he took in his card, and Mr. Blaid was as-

tonished when he saw the garments of his visitor. The latter represented him-

self to be from the town of Nashua, N. H., and said that when Mr. Blair was there last he had invited him to come down to Washington and make him a visit. Of course Mr. Blair had been in Nashua many times and realized that he might have invited some of his con-

stituents in that place to pay him a visit at Washington, but he could not identify this particular constituent and began to ask questions. The actor endured

the ordeal perfectly well, as he was fa-

miliar with the locality, and the congressman, who did not suspect anything, might have been entertaining an actor

unawares but for the tittering of some newspaper men who had been let into the secret and were watching the inter-

view. The good natured congressman admitted that it was an excellent make-up and a very good joke.--Chicago Record.

Europe's Indebtedness. The statistics relative to the expenditure of the chief European countries upon their armies and navies become more significant when it is remembered that the money thus spent is borrowed money. Of all the European govern-

ments that of England is the only one which, so to speak, is paying its way.

The remainder are living on loans. As a consequence they are all augmenting their national debts. Between 1870 and 1887 the national debt of France was increased by 12,000,000 francs, that of Russia by 11,000,000, that of Italy by 3,132,000,000, that of Austria-Hungary by 4,019,000,000, that of Germany by something like the same sum, that of Spain by 1,300,000,000 and so on. Even the smallest states are heavy borrowers, Belgium having added almost as much to her obligations as Spain, while the Roumanian debt has been augmented to the extent of 701,000,000, that of Ser-

via to the extent of 244,000,000 and that of Greece to the extent of 270,000,-

000.--St. James Gazette.

Hard Times In Lapland. The existing distress in Swedish Lapland, caused by the heavy snows of last winter, is described as being exceedingly severe. Generally the reindeer easily finds nourishment beneath the snow,

but this winter that has been impossible. The snow was so deep and hard that the animals could not pierce it. On the Finland side there was plenty

of food for them, and they went by thousands across the frontier, where they were confiscated by Finland. These creatures as the whole riches of the Laplanders, who are stated to be now quite beggared.--London News.

Brussels Doctors Combine. The physicians of Brussels have band-

ed themselves into a union, pledged to resist any attempt to cheapen their scale of remuneration, and have bound themselves not to accept any fee below a certain fixed sum. They have been led to take this course by a circular address to them by several industrial unions informing them that physicians who would give medical attendance at the rate of 10 cents a visit would be exclusively called in by sick members of the trade unions.--Brussels Letter.

Two Questions.

Old McGrumpus--Do you suppose that I am going to allow my daughter to marry a man as poor as you are?

Young McGall--Do you suppose that any rich man would marry a girl as homely as she is?--New York Weekly.

Too Late.

"Miss Smallheart, don't you think you could learn to love me?" Miss Smallheart--Mr. Slimcash, I wish you had spoken yesterday before I bought Fido.--Chicago Inter Ocean.

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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 elsewhere.

Money to loan on Bond and Mortgage on Improved Property.