WAS DEAD, YET LIVES

REV. DR. TALMAGE'S SERMON ON AN ONLY SON. Christ the Man and Christ the God--The Master of Life and Death--The Wonders of the Resurrection--Christ In Season of Sorrow.

BROOKLYN, Aug. 19.--Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is now in Australia on his round the world tour, has selected as the subject for today's sermon through the press "An Only Son," the text chosen being Luke vii, 12-15: "Now, when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold there was a dead man carried out, the

only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her he had compassion on her and said unto her, Weep not, and he came and touched the bier, and they that bore him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee arise! And he that was dead sat up and began to speak, and he delivered him to his mother."

The text calls us to stand at the gate of the city of Nain. The streets are a-rush with business and gayety, and the ear is deafened with hammers of mechanism and the wheels of traffic.

Work, with its thousand arms and thousand eyes and thousand feet, fills all the street, when suddenly the crowd parts, and a funeral passes. Between the wheels of work and pleasure there comes a long procession of mourning people. Who is it? A trifler says: "Oh, it's nothing but a funeral. It may have come up from the hospital of the city, or the almshouse, or some low place of the town," but not so, says the serious observer.

There are so many evidences of dire bereavement that we know at the first glance some one has been taken away greatly beloved, and to our inquiry, "Who is this that is carried out with so many offices of kindness and affection?"

the reply comes, "The only son of his mother, and she a widow." Stand back and let the procession pass out! Hush all the voices of mirth and pleasure! Let every head be uncovered! Weep with this passing procession and let it be told through all the market places and bazaars of Nain that in Galilee today the sepulcher hath gathered to itself "the only son of his mother, and she a widow."

There are two or three things that, in my mind, give especial pathos to this scene. The first is, he was a young man that was being carried out. To the aged death becomes beautiful. The old man halts and pants along the road, where once he bounded like a roe. From the midst of immedicable ailments and sorrows he cries out, "How long, Lord, how long?" Footsore and hardly bestead on the hot journey, he wants to get home. He sits in the church and sings, with a tremulous voice, some tune he sand 40 years ago and longs to join the better assemblage of the one hundred and forty and four thousand who have passed the floor. How sweetly he sleeps the last sleep! Push back the white locks from the wrinkled temples. They will never ache again. Fold the hands over the still heart. They will never toil again. Close gently the eyes. They will never weep again.

But this man that I am speaking of was a young man. He was just putting on the armor of life, and he was exulting to think how his sturdy blows would ring out above the clangor of battle. I suppose he had a young man's hopes, a young man's ambitions and a young man's courage. He said: "If I live many years, I will feed the hungry and clothe the naked. In this city of Nain, where there are so many bad young men, I will be sober and honest and pure and magnanimous, and my mother shall never be ashamed of me."

But all these prospects are blasted in one hour. There he passes lifeless in the procession. Behold all that is left on earth of the high hearted young man of the city of Nain.

There is another thing that adds very much to this scene, and that is he was an only son. However large the family flock may be, we never could think of sparing one of the lambs. Though they may all have their faults, they all have their excellencies that commend them to the parental heart, and if it were peremptorily demanded of you today that you should yield up one of your children out of a very large family you would be confounded, and you could not make a selection. But this was an only son, around whom gathered all the parental expectations. How much care in his education! How much caution in watching his habits! He would carry

down the name to other times. He would have entire control of the family property long after the parents had gone to their last reward. He would stand in society a thinker, a worker, a philanthropist, a Christian. No, no. It is all ended. Behold him there. Breath is gone. Life is extinct. The only son of his mother.

There was one other thing that added to the pathos of this scene, and that was his mother was a widow. The main hope of that home had been broken, and now he was come up to be the staff. The chief light of the household had been extinguished, and this was the only light left. I suppose she often said, looking at him, "There are only two of us." Oh, it is a grand thing to see a young man step out in life and say to his mother: "Don't be down hearted. I will, as far as possible, take father's place, and as long as I live you shall never want anything." It is not always that way. Sometimes the young people get tired of the old people. They say they are queer; that they have so many ailments; and they sometimes wish them out of the way. A young man and his wife sat at the table, their little son on the floor playing beneath the table.

The old father was very old, and his hand shook, so they said, "You shall no more sit with us at the table." And so they gave him a place in the corner, where, day by day, he ate out of an earthen bowl--everything put into that bowl. One day his hand trembled so much he dropped it, and it broke, and the son, seated at the elegant table in midfloor, said to his wife, "Now we'll get father a wooden bowl, and that he can't break." So a wooden bowl was obtained, and every day old grandfather ate out of that, sitting in the corner.

One day, while the elegant young man and his wife were seated at their table, with chased silver and all the luxuries, and their little son sat upon the floor, they saw they lad whittling, and they said, "My son, what are you doing there with that knife?" "Oh," said he, "I--I'm making a trough for my father and mother to eat out of when they get old!"

But this young man of the text was not of that character. He did not belong to that school. I can tell it from the way they mourned over him. He was to be the companion of his mother. he was to be his mother's protector. He would return now some of the kind-

nesses he had received in the days of childhood and boyhood. Aye, he would with his strong hand uphold that form already enfeebled with age. Will he do it? No. In one hour that promise of help and companionship is gone. There is a world of anguish in that one short phrase, "The only son of his mother, and she a widow."

Now, my friends, it was upon this scene that Christ broke. He came in without any introduction. He stopped

the procession. He had only two utter-

ances to make--one to the mourn-

ing mother, the other to the dead. He cried out to the mourning one, "Weep

not," and then, touching the bier on which the son lay, he cried out, "Young

man, I say unto thee arise!" And he

that was dead sat up.

I learn two or three things from this subject, and the first that Christ was a man. You see how that sorrow played upon all the chords of his heart. I think we forget this too often. Christ was a man more certainly than you are, for he was a perfect man. No sailor ever slept in ship's hammock more soundly than Christ slept in that boat on Gennesaret. In every nerve and muscle and bone and fiber of his body, in every emotion and affection of his heart, in every action and decision of his mind he was a man. He looked off upon the sea just as you look off upon the waters. He went into Martha's house just as you go into a cottage. He breathed hard when he was tired, just as you do when you are exhausted. He felt after sleeping out a night in the storm just like you do when you have been exposed to a tempest. It was just as humiliating for him to beg bread as it would be for you to become a pauper. He felt just as much

insulted by being sold for 30 pieces of

silver as you would if you were sold for the price of a dog. From the crown of

the head to the sole of the foot he was a

man. When the thorns were twisted for his brow, they hurt him just as much as they hurt your brown if they were twisted for it. He took not on him the nature of angels. He took on him the seed of Abraham. "Ecce homo"--behold the man! But I must also draw from this subject that he was a God. Suppose that a man should attempt to break up a funeral obsequy. He would be seized by the law, he would be imprisoned, if he were not actually slain by the mob before the officers could secure him. If Christ had been a mere mortal, would he have a right to come in upon such a procession? Would he have succeeded in his interruption? He was more than a man, for when he cried out, "I say unto thee, arise!" he that was dead sat up. What excitement there must have been thereabout! The body had lain pros-

trate. It had been mourned over with agonizing tears, and yet now it begins to move in the shroud and to be flushed with life, and at the command of Christ he rises up and looks into the faces of the astonished spectators. Oh, this was the work of God! I hear it in his voice; I see it in the flash of his eye; I behold it in the snapping of death's shackles; I see it in the face of the rising slumberer; I hear it in the outcry of all those who were spectators of the scene. If, when I see my Lord Jesus Christ mourning with the bereaved, I put my hands on his shoulders and say, "My brother," now that I hear him proclaim supernatural deliverances, I look up into his face and say with Thomas, "My Lord and my God." Do you not think he was a God? A great many people do not believe that, and they compromise the matter, or they think they compromise it. They say he was a very good man, but he was not a God. That is impossible. He was either a God or a wretch, and I will prove it. If a man professes to be that which he is not, what is he? He is a liar, an impostor, a hypocrite. That is your unanimous verdict. Now, Christ professed to be a God. He said over and over again he was a God, took the attributes of a God and assumed the works and offices of a God. Dare you now say he was not? He was a God, or he was a wretch. Choose ye. Do you think I cannot prove by this Bible that he was a God? If you do not believe this Bible, of course there is no need of my talking to you. There is no common data from which to start. Suppose you do believe it. Then I can demonstrate that he was divine. I can prove he was Creator, John i, 3, "All things were made by him, and without him was not anything made that was made." He was eternal, Revelation xxii, 13, "I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last." I can prove that he was omnipotent, Hebrews i, 10, "The heavens are the work of thine hands." I can prove he was omniscient, John ii, 25, "He knew what was in man." Oh, yes, he is a God. He cleft the sea. He upheaved the crystalline walls along which the Israelites marched. He planted the mountains. He raises up governments and casts down thrones and marches across nations and across worlds and across the universe eternal, omnipotent, unhindered and unabashed. That hand that was nailed to the cross holds the stars in a leash of love. That head that dropped on the bosom in fainting and death shall make the world quake at its nod. That voice that groaned in the last pang shall swear before the trembling world that time shall be no longer. Oh, I do not insult the common sense of the race by telling us that this person was only a man in whose presence the paralytic arm was thrust out well, and the devils crouched, and the lepers dropped their scales, and the tempests folded their wings, and the boy's satchel of a few loaves made a banquet for 5,000, and the sad procession of my text broke up in congratulation and hosanna!

Again, I learn from this subject that Christ was a sympathizer. Mark you, this was a city funeral. In the country, when the bell tolls, they know all about it for five miles around, and they know what was the matter with the man, how old he was and what were his last experiences. They know with what temporal prospects he has left his fam-

ily. There is no haste, there is no indecency in the obsequies. There is nothing done as a mere matter of business.

Even the children come out as the pro-

cession passes and look sympathetic, and the tree shadows seem to deepen, and the brooks weep in sympathy as the pro-

cession goes by. But, mark you, this that I am speaking of was a city fu-

neral. In great cities the cart jostles the hearse, and there is mirth and gladness and indifference as the weeping proces-

sion goes by. In this city of Nain it was a common thing to have trouble and bereavement and death. Christ saw it every day there. Perhaps that very hour there were others being carried out, but this frequency did not harden Christ's heart at all. He stepped right out, and he saw this mourner, and he had compassion on her, and he said "Weep not!" Now I have to tell you, O bruised souls, and there are many everywhere--have you ever looked over any great audience and noticed how many shadows of sorrow there are? I come to all such and say, "Christ meets you, and he has compassion on you, and he says, 'Weep not.'" Perhaps with some it is financial trouble. "Oh," you say, "it is such a silly thing for a man to cry over lost money!" Is it? Suppose you had a large fortune, and all luxuries brought to your table, and your wardrobe was full, and your home was beautiful by music and sculpture and painting and thronged by the elegant and educated, and then some rough misfortune should strike you in the face and trample your treasures and taunt your children for their faded dress and send you into commercial circles an underling where once you waved a scepter of gold, do you think you would cry then? I think you would. But Christ comes and meets all such today. He sees all the straits in which you have been thrust. He observes the sneer of that man who once was proud to walk in your shadow and glad to get your help.

He sees the protested note, the uncanceled judgment, the foreclosed mortgage, the heartbreaking exasperation, and he says: "Weep not. I own the cat-

tle on a thousand hills. I will never let you starve. From my hand the fowls of heaven peck all their food. And will I let you starve? Never; no, my child, never!"

Perhaps it may be a living home trouble that you cannot speak about to your best friend. It may be some do-

mestic unhappiness. It may be an evil suspicion. It may be the disgrace fol-

lowing in the footsteps of a son that is wayward, or a companion who is cruel, or a father that will not do right, and for years there may have been a vulture striking its beak into the vitals of your soul, and you sit there today feeling it is worse than death. It is. It is worse than death. And yet there is relief. Though the night may be the blackest, though the voices of hell may tell you to curse God and die, look up and hear the voice that accosted the woman of the text as it says, "Weep not." Earth hath no sorrow That heaven cannot cure.

I learn, again, from all this that Christ is the master of the grave. Just outside the gate of the city Death and Christ measured lances, and when the young man rose Death dropped. Now we are sure of our resurrection. Oh, what a scene it was when that young man came back! The mother never ex-

pected to hear him speak again. She never thought that he would kiss her again. How the tears started, and how her heart throbbed as she said, "Oh, my son, my son, my son!" And that scene is going to be repeated. It is go-

ing to be repeated 10,000 times. These broken family circles have got to come together. These extinguished household lights have got to be rekindled. There will be a stir in the family lot in the cemetery, and there will be a rush into life at the command, "Young man, I say unto thee arise!" As the child shakes off the dust of the tomb and comes forth fresh and fair and beauti-

ful, and you throw your arms around it and press it to your heart, angel to an-

gel will repeat the story of Nain, "He delivered him to his mother." Did you notice that passage in the text as I read it? "He delivered him to his mother."

Oh, ye troubled souls! Oh, ye who have lived to see every prospect blasted, peeled, scattered, consumed, wait a lit-

tle! The seedtime of tears will become the wheat harvest. In a clime cut of no wintry blast, under a sky palled by no hurtling tempest and amid redeemed ones that weep not, that part not, that die not, friend will come to friend, and kindred will join kindred, and the long procession that marches the avenues of gold will lift up their palms as again and again it is announced that the same one who came to the relief of this wom-

an of the text came to the relief of many a maternal heart and repeated the wonders of resurrection and "delivered him to his mother." Oh, that will be the harvest of the world. That will be the coronation of princes. That will be the Sabbath of eternity.

Official Etiquette In Rome. The New York Sun's Rome correspondent writes that the Liberal newspapers have found a new grievance against the Vatican in the fact that nearly all the foreign princes recently in Rome first visited the pope and afterward the king, while some did not go to the quirinal at all. Prince Reuss recently followed the former course, and the Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg called on the pope and some cardinals and ignored the royal family altogether. The Liberal newspapers urge that the government protect against this [illegible] and put a stop to it at [illegible] that foreign princes [illegible] not like [illegible] following [illegible] given [illegible] under[illegible] visit [illegible] quirinal [illegible]

[illegible] ...avalanche comes [?] Sawtooth mountains. General [?] a man is caught in a snowslide he is buried and either crushed or smothered to death, but in this case the imperiled man actually rode the avalanche half a mile and came out alive. Charles Goetz was hunting in the mountains near At-

lanta when the snow started under his feet. He was unable to extricate him-

self from the moving mass, and in a few moments he was being carried along the breast of a roaring avalanche.

The slide rushed down into a rocky, precipitous canyon, but Goetz went through alive. He was found 11 hours afterward by a rescuing party, and though terribly bruised he is in a fair way to recovery.

THE EARL AND THE SERVING MAID. She Would Carry No Coal and Got Round Damages From Clancarty.

Wednesday at the Brampton county court Captain Head claimed £15 odd from the Earl of Clancarty for breach of agreement in the hiring of a furnished house, 40 Lowndes square. The defend-

and signed an agreement to take the house in question from Sept. 23 last to Nov. 18 at the rent of £100 6s. This doc-

ument contained a clause to the effect that his lordship should retain on the premises the landlord's housemaid named White, the former paying her 3 shillings per week for washing and beer and half her wages (£28 per annum), besides pro-

viding her with board. Shortly after his lordship and his servants took up their abode at 40 Lowndes square the Earl of Clancarty sent the butler to the housemaid with an order to make a fire in Lord Clancarty's room.

White replied that it was not her place to carry coal while an ablebodied footman was in the house. Eventually, however, she did light the fire, but ex-

pressed her opinion that it was not her duty to carry coal. His lordship, on be-

ing informed of this, wrote her a note reproving her for what he termed "impertinence" and telling her to pack up and leave the house. Later on Lord Clancarty offered her a month's wages in lieu of notice but the plaintiff declined to accept it or to leave the house. She stated that she was turned out at 9.30 p. m. by the aid of a policeman.

One of the neighbors sheltered her until the morning, when she took a train to her parents' home in Taunton. Defend-

ant, who was stated to be unable at present to leave his residence at Ballinsloe, Ireland, was represented by counsel, who stated the defense to be that the girl on refusing to carry coal behaved impertinently and defendant was legally within his right in discharging her.

His honor said that clearly Lord Clancarty had no authority to dismiss this servant. He (the learned judge) did not think that in a nobleman's family a housemaid should be asked to carry coal, and he was of opinion that the girl had treated his lordship with the greatest respect possible. He found for the plaintiff for £13, but disallowed £2 railway fare and expenses to Taunton. Judgment was entered accordingly, with costs.--Westminster Gazette.

A Prince's Escapade. Prince Charles of Bohenzollern, who is about to marry Princess Josephine, daughter of the Comte and Comtesse de Flandres, was the hero, a dozen years ago, of an adventure that caused no little amusement in Germany. As a boy of 14 he was at that time pursuing his studies at Dusseldorf, when, along with four of his companions, he took it into his head to emulate Robinson Crusoe and gain a new experience. The little party contrived to escape from school and passed a couple of nights in the woods, but finding the life hardly equal to their expectations they came back in repentant mood. Unluckily the princely ringleader thought fit to concoct a romantic story of his having been seized and carried off by a band of masked kidnappers. The police took the matter up and soon ascertained the truth, which the naughty boy, to his great confusion, was ultimately obliged to confess before his assembled schoolmates. The prince, who now holds a commission in the Prussian Uhluns, is said to have be animated by strong loyalty toward his imperial cousin.--St. James Gazette.

Spiders' Threads. The spider's thread is made of innumerable small threads or fibers, one of these threads being estimated to be one millionth of a hair in thickness.

Three kinds of thread are spun--one of great strength, for the radiating or spoke lines of the web. The cross lines, or what a sailor might call the rat lines, are finer and are tenacious--that is, they have upon them little specks or globules of very sticky gum. These specks are put on with even interspaces. They are set quite thickly along the line and are what in the first instance catch and hold the legs or wings of the fly.

Once caught in this fashion, the prey is held secure by threads flung over it somewhat in the same manner as a lasso. The third kind of silk is that which the spider throws out in a mass of flood, by which it suddenly envelopes any prey of which it is somewhat afraid, as, for example, a wasp. A scientific experimenter once drew out from the body of a single spider 3,480 yards of thread or spider silk--a length little short of three miles.--Popular Magazine.

Practical Dental Hints.

An aching tooth should never be borne with. I have known a woman to courageously endure the repeated excruciating toothache that attends a dying nerve without consulting a dentist. The pain finally subsided for good and for all, but the tooth gradually became discolored, taking on a drabbish tone. Then for the first time this unlucky woman suspected what had happened. The pulp, the dead nerve, was removed, but the tooth never regained its clear, pearly luster. If one is troubled with dyspepsia or any gastric disturbance, the teeth bear witness to the fact. They lose their brilliancy, often become stained a dark saffron about their necks. Every pretty dyspeptic should make a point of keeping a wineglass of water, into which is stirred a teaspoonful of bicarbonate of soda, by her bedside to rinse her mouth with as often as she wakes. The bicarbonate counteracts the effect of any "acidity" of the stomach on the teeth. --Philadelphia Times.

Women In General Conference. We have long accepted the coming providential fact that our sisters will be members of the general conference presently. [illegible] the women are to come [illegible] all the conferences [illegible] ordain it, and thus allow [illegible] the general conference, as they will enter heaven--abundantly.--Chicago Northwestern Advocate.

Reducing a Minister's Salary.

A certain church in this city reduced the salary of its pastor [?] after his wife died because his expenses wouldn't be as large. Soon after he had a call to another field, and a new pastor with a large family came. But the salary was not raised; on the contrary, it was cut again, doubtless because his children would soon be able to work.--Springfield Graphic.

REPORTING SPEECHES IN CONGRESS. Stenographers Able to Make Big Money During Debates In the Houses. It is true that there are 20 or 30 more members in congress than there were a few years ago, but a change has come over the spirit of debate. Long winded speeches are rarer; men talk quicker and say more. The incessant agitation of the tariff has been an education in figures, and if a man makes a wild statement he is promptly contradicted.

A stenographer who can report the house debate is at the top of his profes-

sion, and there is no more promotion for him. The men who do this work earn incomes that would make the average professional man turn green with envy, for when congress is not in session they are in demand at the highest figures to report the most important matters.

There was a man in Washington once, a good many years ago, who through bad habits had lost every faculty he had except that of writing shorthand not only as fast as people could talk, but as fast as they could think. In his intervals of sobriety he could make money hand over fist as as house stenographer.

He generally kept fairly sober during the session of congress, but as soon as it was over would deliberately drink himself into insensibility.

His services were so much in demand that men who knew his powers and wanted his services would come to Washington, bring him out of his fit of dissipation, get him sobered up, take him off to the scene of action and watch him like a hawk while the case--generally a great lawsuit--lasted. Then, as soon as it was over, he would go back to his evil ways. But as long as he lived he could write shorthand, and as long as he lived he made a fine income.

There is a superstition that every tariff bill calls for the death of one of the house stenographers. The McKinley bill, the Morrison bill, both had their victims, and if a man has a headache now among the stenographers they all look blue and feel black.--Boston Transcript.

Overtaxed Girl Students.

Boston mothers are making a stand against the overtaxing of girl pupils in the schools. A petition containing hundreds of names and asking that Greek be made elective instead of prescribed was presented at a meeting of the school committee. A woman who found her daughter breaking down in health from overstudy at the Latin school originated the petition, which received the signatures of many prominent men, among them being educators, ministers, lawyers and physicians. The mothers are willing to have German substituted for Greek, believing that the study of the modern language will tax the minds of their daughters less and at the same time be more useful. One of the petitioners says: "It certainly seems strange that of the large number of girls who enter the Latin school such a small percentage ever graduate. The course is too hard. The girls cannot stand it. They cannot, or rather do not, exercise with baseball and out of door sports as the boys do. Some skeptics have raised the point that our daughters break down because they go out to parties and to the theaters. We have not found that to be the case in a single instance. Many of the mothers at the meetings have said, 'Why, my daughter studies from four to six hours a day, and she doesn't sleep nights.' Unless any one wants to teach the classical studies, German and French are much more useful to the girls than the Greek which they have to take now."--Boston Letter.

"L'Africaine" Made Her Seasick.

Any one who has seen "L'Africaine," "Pinafore" or "America" will remember the realistic manner in which the stage vessels rock up and down, as though riding the long swells of a genuine ocean.

It was in the third act of "L'Africaine," while the vessel was tipping gracefully up and down, that a man and woman crowded rather hastily from their seats in the parquet and passed out through one of the exit tunnels. Persons along the aisles noticed that the woman was quite pale and leaned heavily against her escort. She was seasick.

This woman resides in Chicago, but has traveled much, and in all her travels she has never been able to overcome a tendency to seasickness. So sensitive to this malady is she that the sickness comes upon her before she boards a vessel for a transatlantic trip. The apprehension of what is coming hurries the attack. During a voyage she never leaves her stateroom. She goes ashore somewhat languid, but possessed of a ferocious appetite.

At Paris in 1878 she became seasick while looking at a marine panorama. The suggestion was too much for her.

"L'Africaine" brought memories not altogether pleasant. She could not control her emotions, and so she retreated.--Chicago Record.

London Prejudices. One by one some London prejudices are disappearing. By the casting vote the lord mayor, in the common council, decided on opening the loan exhibition of pictures in Guildhall on Sunday afternoon. The disgraced theological feud still rages in the London school board, but public opinion may find means of suppressing even that in the course of time. Another absurdity of the statute book just now is the object of popular revolt. An old law forbids the sale of any kind of food after 10 o'clock in the evening except by licensed victualers. The result is that all the victims of hunger must patronize the saloons or lagher class restaurants. The Rosebery government may address itself to this re-form.--London Cor. New York Sun.

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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.