THE IDOL OF FASHION. REV. DR. TALMAGE DEPICTS THE

TRAGEDY OF DRESS.

He Says the Goddess of Fashion Has Become a Rival of the Lord of Heaven and Earth--An Eloquent Discourse on the

Evils of Dress.

BROOKLYN, Aug. 5.--Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is now in Melbourne on his round the world tour, has chosen as the

subject of his sermon today through the press "The Tragedy of Dress," the text selected being I Peter iii, 3, 4, "Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair and the wearing of gold or of putting on of apparel, but let it be the hidden man of the heart."

That we should all be clad is proved by the opening of the first wardrobe in paradise, with its apparel of dark green. That we should all, as far as our means allow us, be beautifully and gracefully appareled is proved by the fact that God never made a wave but he gilded it with golden sunbeams, or a tree but he garlanded it with blossoms, or a sky but he studded it with stars, or allowed even the smoke of a furnace to ascend but he columned and turreted and domed and scrolled it into outlines of indescribable gracefulness. When I see the apple orchards of the spring and the pageantry of the autumnal forests, I come to the conclusion that, if nature does ever join the church, while she may be a Quaker in the silence of her worship, she never will be a Quaker in the style of her dress. Why the notches of a fern leaf or the stamen of a water lily? Why, when the day departs, does it let the folding doors of heaven stay open so long when it might go in so quickly?

One summer morning I saw an army of a million spears ,each one adorned with a diamond of the first water--I mean the grass, with the dew on it.

When the prodigal came home, his father not only put a coat on his back, but jewelry on his hand. Christ wore a beard. Paul, the bachelor apostle, not afflicted with any sentimentality, ad-

mired the arrangement of a woman's hair when he said in his epistle, "If a woman have long hair, it is a glory unto her."

There will be a fashion in heaven as on earth, but it will be a different kind of fashion. It will decide the color of the dress, and the population of that country, by a beautiful law, will wear white. I say these things as a back-

ground to my sermon to show you that I have no prim, precise, prudish or cast iron theories on the subject of human apparel. But the goddess of fashion has set up her throne in this world, and at the sound of the timbrels we are all ex-

pected to fall down and worship. The Old and New Testament of her Bible are the fashion plates. Her altars smoke with the sacrifices of the bodies, minds and souls of 10,000 victims. In her temple four people stand in the organ loft, and from them there comes down

a cold drizzle of music, freezing on the ears of her worshipers. This goddess of fashion has become a rival of the Lord of heaven and earth, and it is high time that we unlimbered our batteries against this idolatry. When I come to count the victims of fashion, I find as many masculine as feminine. Men make an easy tirade against women, as though she were the chief worshiper at this idolatrous shrine, and no doubt some men in the more conspicuous part of the pew have already cast glances at the more retired part of the pew, their look a prophecy of a generous distribution.

My sermon shall be as appropriate for one end of the pew as for the other.

Men are as much the idolators of fashion as women, but they sacrifice on a different part of the altar. With men the fashion goes to cigars and clubrooms and yachting parties and wine suppers.

In the United States the men chew up and smoke $100,000,000 worth of tobacco every year. That is their fashion. In London not long ago a man died who started life with $750,000, but he ate it all up in gluttonies, sending his agents to all parts of the earth for some rare delicacy for the palate, sometimes one plate of food costing him $300 or $400. He ate up his whole fortune and had only a guinea left. With that he bought a woodcock and had it dressed in the very best style, ate it, gave two hours for digestion, then walked out on the Westminster bridge and threw himself into the Thames and died, doing on a large scale what you and I have often seen done on a small scale. But men do not abstain from millinery and elabora-

tion of skirt through any superiority of humility. It is only because such ap-

pendages would be a blockade to business. What would sashes and trains 3½ yards long do in a stock market? And yet men are the disciples of fashion just as much as women. Some of them wear boots so tight they can hardly walk in the paths of righteousness. And there are men who buy expensive suits of clothes and never pay for them, and who go through the streets in great stripes of color like animated checkerboards. I say these things because I want to show you that I am impartial in my discourse, and that both sexes, in the language of the surrogate's office, shall "share and share alike." As God may help me, I shall show you what are the destroying and deathful influences of inordinate fashion.

The first baleful influence I notice is in fraud, illimitable and ghastly. Do you know that Arnold of the Revolu-

tion proposed to sell his country in or-

der to get money to support his wife's wardrobe? I declare here before God and this people that the effort to keep up expensive establishments in this country is sending more business men to temporal perdition than all other causes combined. What was it that sent Gilman to the penitentiary, and Phila-

delphia Morton to the watering of stocks, and the life insurance presidents to per-

jured statements about their assets, and has completely upset our American finances? What was it that overthrew the United States secretary at Washing-

ton, the crash of whose fall shook the continent? But why should I go to these famous defaultings to show what men will do in order to keep up great home style and expensive wardrobe when you and I know scores of men who are put to their wits' end and are lashed from January to December in the attempt?

Our politicians may theorize until the expiration of their terms of office as to the best way of improving our monetary condition in this country. It will be of no use, and things will be no better until we can learn to put on our heads and backs and feet and hands no more than we can pay for.

There are clerks in stores and banks on limited salaries who, in the vain attempt to keep the wardrobe of their family as showy as other folks' ward-

robes, are dying of muffs and diamonds and shawls and high hats, and they have nothing left except what they give to cigars and wine suppers, and they die before their time, and they will expect us ministers to preach about them as though they were the victims of early piety, and after a high class funeral, with silver handles at the side of the coffin of extraordinary brightness, it will be found out that the undertaker is cheated out of his legitimate expenses.

Do not send to me to preach the funeral sermon of a man who dies like that. I will blurt out the whole truth and tell that he was strangled to death by his wife's ribbons. Our countries are dress-

ed to death. You are not surprised to find that the putting up of one's public building in New York cost millions of dollars more than it ought to have cost when you find that the man who gave out the contracts paid more than $5,000 for his daughter's wedding dress. Cashmeres of a thousand dollars each are not rare on Broadway. It is estimat-

ed that there are 10,000 women in these two cities who have expended on their personal array $4,000 a year.

What are men to do in order to keep up such home wardrobes? Steal? That is the only respectable thing they can do! During the last 15 years there have been innumerable fine businesses ship-

wrecked on the wardrobe. The tempta-

tion comes this way: A man thinks more of his family than of all the world outside, and if they spend the evening in describing to him the superior ward-

robe of the family across the street that they cannot bear the sight of the man is thrown on his gallantry and on his pride of family and without translat-

ing his feelings in plain language he goes into extortion and issuing false stock and skillful penmanship in writing somebody else's name at the foot of a promissory note, and they all go down together--the husband to the prison, the wife to the sewing machine, the children to be taken care of by those who were called poor relations. Oh, for some new Shakespeare to arise and write the tragedy of human clothes! Will you forgive me if I say in tersest shape possible that some of the men have to forge and to perjure and to swindle to pay for their wives' dresses? I will say it whether you forgive me or not!

Again, inordinate fashion is the foe of all Christian almsgiving. Men and women put so much in personal display that they often have nothing for God and the cause of suffering humanity. A Christian man cracking his Palais Royal glove across the back by shutting up his hand to hide the cent he puts into the poorbox. A Christian woman, at the story of the Hottentots, crying copious tears into a $25 handkerchief and then giving a 2 cent piece to the collec-

tion, thrusting it under the bills so people will not know but it was a $10 gold-

piece. One hundred dollars for incense to fashion; 2 cents for God. God gives us 90 cents out of every dollar. The other 10 cents by command of his Bible belong to him. Is not God liberal according to his tithing system laid down in the Old Testament? Is not God lib-

eral in giving us 90 cents out of a dollar when he takes but 10? We do not like that. We want to have 99 cents for ourselves and 1 for God.

Now, I would a great deal rather steal 10 cents from you than from God. I think one reason why a great many peo-

ple do not get along in worldly accumulation faster is because they do not observe this divine rule. God says, "Well, if that man is not satisfied with 90 cents of a dollar, then I will take the whole dollar, and I will give it to the man or woman who is honest with me." The greatest obstacle to charity in the Christian church today is the fact that men

expend so much money on their table, and women so much on their dress, that they have got nothing left for the work of God and the world's betterment. In my first settlement at Belleville, N. J., the cause of missions was being presented one Sabbath, and a plea for the charity of the people was made, when an old Christian man in the audience lost his balance and said right out in the midst of the sermon, "Mr. Talmage, how are we to give liberally to these grand and glorious causes when our families dress as they do?" I did not answer that question. It was the only time in my life when I had nothing to say.

Again, inordinate fashion is a distrac-

tion to public worship. You know very well there are a good many people who come to church just as they go to the races--to see who will come out first. What a flutter it makes in church when some woman with extraordinary display of fashion comes in! "What a love of a bonnet!" says some one. "What a perfect fright!" say 500. For the most merciless critics in the world are fashion critics. Men and women with souls to be saved passing the hour in wondering where that man got his cravat or what store that woman patronizes.

In many of our churches the preliminary exercises are taken up with the discussion of wardrobes. It is pitiable.

Is it not wonderful that the Lord does not strike the meeting houses with lightning? What distraction of public worship! Dying men and women, whose bodies are soon to be turned into dust, yet before three worlds strutting like peacocks, the awful question of the soul's destiny submerged by the ques-

tion of navy blue velvet and long fan train skirt, long enough to drag up the church aisle, the husband's store, office, shop, factory, fortune and the admiration of half the people in the building! Men and women come late to church to show their clothes. People sitting down in a pew or taking up a hymnbook, all absorbed at the same time in personal array, to sing:

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings; Thy better portion trace, Rise from transitory things Toward heaven, thy native place.

I adopt the Episcopalian prayer and say, "Good Lord, deliver us!" Insatiate fashion also belittles the intellect. Our minds are enlarged or they dwindle in proportion to the importance of the subject on which we constantly dwell. Can you imagine any-

thing more dwarfing to the human intellect than the study of fashion? I see men on the street who, judging from their elaboration, I think must have taken two hours to arrange their apparel. After a few years of that kind of absorption, which one of the McAllister's magnifying glasses will be powerful enough to make the man's character visible? They all land in idiocy.

I have seen men and women at the summer wa-

tering places, through fashion, the mere wreck of what they once were. Sallow of cheek. Meager of limb. Hollow at the chest. Showing no animation save in rushing across a room to pick up a lady's fan. Simpering along the corridors the same compliments they simpered 20 years ago. A New York lawyer at United States hotel, Saratoga, within our hearing, rushed across a room to say to a sensible woman, "You are as sweet as peaches!" The fools of fashion are myriad. Fashion not only destroys the body, but it makes idiotic the intellect.

Yet, my friends, I have given you only the milder phase of this evil. It shuts a great multitude out of heaven. The first peal of thunder that shook Sinai declared, "Thou shalt have no other God before me," and you will have to choose between the goddess of fashion and the Christian God. There are a great many seats in heaven, and they are all easy seats, but not one seat for the devotee of fashion. Heaven is for meek and quiet spirits. Heaven is for those who think more of their souls than of their bodies. Heaven is fore those who have more joy in Christian charity than in dry goods religion. Why, if you, with your idolatry of fashion, should somehow get into heaven, you would be for putting a French roof on the "house of many mansions." Give up this idolatry of fashion or give up heaven. What would you do standing beside the Count-

ess of Huntington, whose joy it was to build chapels for the poor, or with that Christian woman of Boston who fed 1,500 children of the street at Faneuil hall on New Year's day, giving out as a sort of doxology at the end of the meet-

ing a pair of shoes fo reach one of them, or those Dorcases of modern society who have consecrated their needles to the Lord, and who will get eternal reward for every stitch they take.

Oh, men and women, give up the idolatry of fashion! The rivalries and the competitions of such a life are a stupendous wretchedness. You will al-

ways find some one with brighter array and with more palatial residence, and with lavender kid gloves that make a tighter fit. And if you buy this thing and wear it you will wish you had bought something else and worn it.

And the frets of such a life will bring the crow's feet to your temples before they are due, and when you come to die you will have a miserable time. I have seen men and women of fashion die, and I never saw one of them die well.

The trappings off, there they lay on the tumbled pillow, and there were just two things that bothered them--a wasted life and a coming eternity. I could not pacify them, for their body, mind and soul had been exhausted in the wor-

ship of fashion, and they could not appreciate the gospel. When I knelt by their bedside, they were mumbling out their regrets and saying: "O God! O God!" Their garments hung up in the wardrobe, never again to be seen by them. Without any exception, so far as my memory serves me, they died with-

out hope and went into eternity unprepared.

The most ghastly deathbeds on earth are the one where a man dies of delirium tremens and the other where a woman dies after having sacrificed all her faculties of body, mind and soul in the worship of fashion. My friends, we must appear in judgment to answer for what we have worn on our bodies as well as for what repentances we have exercised with our souls.

On that day I see coming in Beau Brummel of the last century, without his cloak, like which all England got a cloak, and without his cane, like which all England got a cane, without his snuffbox, like which all England got a snuffbox--he, the fop of the ages, particular about everything but his morals, and Aaron Burr without the letters that down to old age he showed in pride to prove his early wicked gallantries, and Absalom without his hair, and Marchioness Pompadour without her titles, and Mrs. Arnold, the belle of Wall street, when that she was the center of fashion, without her fripperies of vesture.

And in great haggardness they shall go away into eternal expatriation, while among the queens of heavenly society will be found Vashti, who wore the modest veil before the palatial bacchanalians, and Hannah, who annually made a little coat for Samuel at the temple,

and Grandmother Lois, the ancestress of Timothy, who imitated her virtue,

and Mary, who gave Jesus Christ to the world, and many of you, the wives and mothers and sisters and daughters of the present Christian church, who, through great tribulation, are entering into the kingdom of God. Christ announced who would make up the royal family of heaven when he said, "Whosoever doeth the will of God, the same is my brother, my sister, my mother."

England's Women's Work Exhibition.

A scheme is afoot for holding an imperial exhibition of women's work in London in 1897 or 1898. It is receiving very influential support, and there is every reason to believe that the queen will consent to become a patroness, and most of the ladies of the British royal family and court will serve on the executive committee. For the purposes of

this exhibition the United States will be considered as a part of the British empire, and it is expected that the American women's exhibits will be a great feature of the show. The Countess of Aberdeen, of course, is one of the leaders of this interesting movement.--London Correspondent.

An Industrious Python. A Danbury (Conn.) man has a large collection of snakes, including a pair of African pythons, a male and a female. One day last week the female python commenced to lay, and up to the present time has deposited over 100 eggs. They vary in size and shape, but on an average are larger than goose eggs. It is something unusual for pythons to lay when in captivity. It is generally reputed that the only other instance recorded was in 1841, when a python in the Paris zoological garden laid three dozen eggs.--Philadelphia Ledger.

A Pathetic Incident.

It was a most pathetic apology that I heard on may way down town in a street car the other day. The car was crowded, and as it stopped I saw two women

get on. As they did so one of the wom-

en accidentally stepped on the foot of one of the passengers. It did seem awkward until the woman, turning to the pas-

senger, said, "Pardon me, but I am totally blind."--Hartford Post.

WARD McALLISTER CRUSHED.

Maggie Cline's Breezy Self Introduction Left the Social Arbiter Speechless.

The second Pullman car in the Boston special which pulled out of the Grand Central station a few days ago had an

unusual share of distinguished people aboard. Society was represented by Ward McAllister, Miss Clift and Mr. Bertschman, son of the Swiss consul general; yachting was represented by

young Mr. Slater, who owns nearly half of the suburbs of New London; medi-

cine was represented by Dr. Ford C. Valentine; the law was represented by Assistant Corporation Counsel Sweet-

zer; newspaperdom was represented by a reporter, and the stage was represent-

ed by several members of the "Prodigal Father" company and by the Irish song bird, Maggie Cline.

Miss Cline had just returned from a three weeks' vacation in the Catskills and was as breezy and sparkling as the

summit of Kaaterskill mountain. Her wealth of auburn hair was artistically arranged, and she wore all her dia-

monds, including the companion to the earring she lost at the races this sum-

mer, which now shimmers on a lace pin.

She was going to Bridgeport to begin an engagement with the "legitimate" and was so vivacious that her chaperon, Mrs. Knight, had to utter a warning, "Sh, Maggie," many, many times.

At the particular request of her friends she sang a verse of her new song, "Yo, Heave, Ho," with which she is soon to delight the public ear. Every-

body was charmed, with the exception of Mr. Ward McAllister. That is to say, he was not apparently charmed. He may have been thrilled to his heart's

core, and he probably was, but he called up every bit of his breeding and maintained the conventional blase air of good society.

Just before the train rolled into Bridgeport some one called Miss Cline's attention to the fact that the elderly gentleman with the soft, brown hat was the social arbiter.

"Lord bless and save us," said Maggie. "Isn't he nice? How I should like to

meet him!"

"Can it be possible that you have never met?" was the astonished chorus.

"Never," said Maggie, with a stage sob. "I throwed away my only chance when I refused to sing for the Vaudeville club last winter."

"It's too bad that there is no one here

to introduce you," said Mrs. Knight as

the train slowed up. "It's such a lovely opportunity, and I'm sure he would be delighted."

"Oh, I don't know that it's too bad,"

said the song bird airily. "I'll just introduce meself, and he'll be more than

delighted."

"Maggie, don't you dare," began Mrs. Knight, but Maggie gave her luggage to the porter and bore straight down the aisle for Mr. McAllister. She caught up

his right hand from his newspaper and shook it until her diamond bracelet made an aureole about his soft brown hat.

"Mr. McAllister, I'm delighted to meet you," said she. "You know me, of course. I'm Miss Cline." Mr. McAllister could not have been more courtly before her gracious majesty the queen. "Miss Cline," said he, dexterously removing his hand to grasp his hat, "the delight is entirely mine. I

have always admired you on the stage, and now my admiration will be yours in private life."

"That's right," said Maggie warmly. "I think us prominent people ought al-

ways to be friendly. Good day."

"Good day," said Mr. McAllister as he sank into his seat. "Good day." He never changed his position from there to New London, unmindful of Mr. Bertschman's broad smiles, Miss Clift's

suppressed mirth and the excited hum of the voices of the others in the car.

But ever and anon his lips seemed to frame those parting words, "Good day," "Good day."--New York World.

A Strangely Impressive Spectacle. A strangely impressive spectacle is the forming of the line of graduates that marches to the commencement dinner of an old college. First comes the graduating class, then the alumni by classes in order of seniority. "Class of 1820!" cries the marshal. Perhaps there is no response. "Class of 1821! Class of 1822! Class of 1823!" Presently, as his class is

reached, the oldest graduate present steps out, a venerable man, perhaps the sole representative of his year, and takes his place amid the cheers of the specta-

tors.

Then for a dozen or a score of classes, as the marshal calls the year, one or two or four or five old men walk by arm in arm, supporting one another's steps.

Then, as the list gets into the forties, come grey haired men, but vigorous, and not yet of the lean and slippered period.

And then in larger companies the men of middle age, and then the younger men, and finally a boisterous crowd 200 strong of lusty youth who cheer for "'92."

A marvelously vivid panorama of hu-

man life is the commencement proces-

sion, from "Morituri salutamus" at one end to "Life let us cherish" at the other.

Dull must be the spirit that is not stirred by it. And yet it is a cheering sight with all its pathos, so much good fellowship it shows and sympathy and joyous greeting when old companions meet.--Outlook.

He Stopped the Cable. William Damm and Joseph Mittendorf, strangers from St. Louis, were seeing the sights in the west bottoms last night. Not being used to the ways of a big city, Mittendorf fell from a cable car and was slightly bruised. He was taken to the Fifth street power house, Damm following. While the doctors were attending to Mittendorf his companion with the swear word name wandered around the power house and fell into the cable conduit. He weighed 250 pounds and consequently knocked the rope from the drum and for a few minutes stopped

the whole Fifth street cable system. His escape from death was narrow, but as it weas he was hardly hurt at all.--Kansas City Star.

The Author of "Kathleen Mavourneen."

A young art student of New York, who used to live next door to the author of that tenderest of love songs, "Kathleen Mavour-

neen," is authority for the statement that he was a cross and crabbed old man of whom all the children in the neighborhood were afraid.--New York Times.

Restoriana. [?] Mamma--Now, dear, the doctor's gone, what can I do to amuse you? Emerson (aged 5, wearily)--If you please, mother, I think I should like to go to sleep and reduce my temperature. (Fact.)--Vogue.

WOMAN'S INHUMANITY TO WOMAN. Where Sympathy Might Have Been Expected From Any Wearer of Skirts.

A little young woman turned into West Twenty-sixth street from Seventh avenue on her way to Eighth avenue about 8:30 a. m. yesterday. A jaunty hat surmounted her head, and her dark gown was snugly fitted.

Opposite the stables in the middle of the block all at once her step began to falter, and a look of despair came into her brown eyes. She gazed about like a hunted animal in search of a place of shelter, while her hands grabbed convul-

sively at her hips. A thin white line appeared at the bottom of the skirt.

All at once her face lighted up as does a landscape when the sun breaks through the clouds. She had found a place of refuge. The area gate of a house near Eighth avenue, which she had now reached, stood invitingly open, and there

was no gate at all to the recess under the stoop on which the basement door opened. The basement door, too, was open, and there was no one, as it proved, in the dark hall beyond.

It was just the place to reclaim the refractory underskirt, and the girl hurried to the friendly shelter. Quickly as she had passed under the stoop, she had been seen by a big woman who was dusting in the first floor hall. The big woman hurried down the steps and asked aggressively of the young woman, who was struggling with her skirt in the basement hall: "What are you doing there?"

"I'm tightening my skirt, which had slipped down," answered the girl, com-

pleting the tightening process.

"You've no business there. I'm not keeping a dressing room. I'll teach you to trespass on my premises. I arrest you. Come along."

So saying, the big woman grabbed the girl by the throat and dragged her into the street.

"Let me go. I've done nothing wrong. Let me go to work. It's time I should

be at the shop," remonstrated the girl as well as she could while nearly strangled.

The big woman only tightened her grip on the girl's throat.

"I'll not let you go until a policeman comes. Making a dressing room of my house! Too many have done it, and I won't have it!"

While speaking, she continued to drag the girl toward Eighth avenue, and looked up and down that thoroughfare

for a policeman. Apparently thinking she saw one in the direction of Twentyfifth street, she started down the avenue with the girl.

Now, the spectacle of one woman having another by the throat is unusual in

Eighth avenue, at any rate at 9 o'clock in the morning, and a crowd soon sur-

rounded the two women. By the time they had reached Twenty-fifth street the crowd was so great that their farther progress was barred. The crowd wanted an explanation, and when the big woman loosened her hold on her prisoner's throat, while telling of the trespass

which had been committed, the younger woman took advantage of the opportu-

nity to tell her side of the story. The crowd believed her and began to jostle and shove the big woman. A sympa-

thizing woman in the crowd stuck pins into the big woman's arm to make her

give up the hold which she still kept of her prisoner's neck. The big woman let her prisoner go in order to draw a rusty

file from her pocket with which she threatened the jostling crowd. This proved the prisoner's opportunity. She plunged through the crowd which opened to let her pass and then closed in behind her, and hailing a horse car was a

moment later being carried out of her

captor's reach up the avenue. The crowd

prevented the big woman from following her, and rubbing the arm into which the pins had been stuck she returned to her home in Twenty-sixth street.--New York Sun.

Protected by His Diamonds. During the worst of the recent hard

times two Wall street men were discussing matters in a lawyer's office. On

parting one of them said:

"If I can manage to hang on to my diamonds, I guess I can pull through." Later the lawyer was asked what the

remark signified. He laughed and said,

"It means that a diamond is not only

a valuable but a conspicuous article. If a man is in the habit of wearing this sort of ornament, his associates are bound to notice it. In a time when men are going to pieces all sorts of signs are looked for by business men that will indicate the financial standing of a cus-

tomer. If they notice that a man who has been in the habit of wearing expen-

sive jewelry suddenly appears without any of his usual jewels, they are apt to

conclude that he is being pushed so hard

that he had to realize on personal property, and his credit goes down."--New York World.

Incident In a Child's Hospital.

It was always expected that new patients would cry for at least half a day.

Umberto was a rogue who seemed to take delight in prolonging this period of initiation. He was an Italian boy of 8, with a large head, big brown, half-won-

dering and half roguish eyes, and the crookedest legs, which made him wad-

dle like a duck. Once it was noticed that even on the second and third days after admission some children in his ward would be crying for home as in the very beginning--a thing explained only when the tricks of this young rascal were discovered. He would watch until all was quiet and the nurse had stepped out of the ward for a minute on some duty, and then would call to the newcomer, "Say, say, doan' you wan' to see you' mudda?" Whereupon the floodgates would open once more.--Harper's Young People.

Plain Language the Best.

If the pulpit is to give no uncertain sound, so also must it speak in a lan-

guage understood of the people. "Well, my friend," said a clergyman sent for to the sick bed of a parishioner, "and what induced you to send for me?" The man was very deaf and inquired of his wife the purpose of the inquiry. "What do he say?" "He says," [?] the woman, "why the dence did you send for him?"--Temple Bar.

Women Railroaders.

On a certain railroad that is claimed to provide Boston with its best service women are employed in the dining cars in the capacities respectively of cashier, cigar dealer, pantry maid and cook's as-

sistant. They are fairly well paid, as women's work goes, and are highly pop-ular.--Woman's Voice.

GREAT BARGAINS IN SPRING AND 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 [sic] 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 elsewhere.

Money to loan on Bond and Mortgage on Improved Property.