A GLORIOUS GOSPEL. THE NEW YORK ACADEMY OF MUSIC THRONGED.

An Eloquent and Forceful Sermon by Rev. Dr. Talmage--The Great Edifice Crowded to the Doors and Several Thousand Turned Away.

NEW YORK, Feb. 17.--Several thousand persons were turned away this afternoon from the doors of the Academy of Music after the huge building had been filled to overflowing, the crowds having begun to assemble fully two hours before the time fixed for opening the services. Rev. Dr. Talmage took for his subject, "The Glorious Gospel," the text chosen being, "According to the glorious gospel of the blessed God, which was committed to

my trust" (I Timothy i, 11).

The greatest novelty of our time is the gospel. It is so old that it is new. As potters and artists are now attempting to fashion pitchers and cups and curious ware like those of 1,900 years ago recently brought up from the buried Pompeii, and such cups and pitchers and curious ware are universally admired, so any one who can unshovel the real gospel from the mountains of stuff under which it has been buried will be able to present something that will attract the gaze and admiration and adoption of all the people. It is amazing what substitutes have been presented for what my text calls "the glorious

gospel." There has been a hemispheric apostasy.

Able Theological Preachers. There are many people in this and all other large assemblages who have no more idea of what the gospel really is than they have of what is contained in the fourteenth chapter of Zend Avesta, the Bible of the Hindoo, the first copy of which I ever saw I purchased in Calcutta last September. The old gospel is 50 feet under, and the work has been done by the shovels of those who have been trying to contrive the philosophy of religion. There is no philosophy about it. It is a plain matter of Bible statement and of childlike faith. Some of the theological seminaries have been hotbeds of infidelity because they have tried to teach the "philosophy of religion." By the time that many a young theological student gets half through his preparatory course he is so filled with doubts about plenary inspiration, and the divinity of Christ, and the questions of eternal destiny, that he is more fit for the lowest bench in the infant class of a Sunday school than to become a teacher and leader of the people. The ablest theological professor is a Christian mother, who out of her own experience can tell the 4-year-old how beautiful Christ was on earth, and how beautiful he now is in heaven, and how dearly he loves little folks, and then she kneels down and puts one arm around the boy, and with her somewhat faded cheek against the roseate cheek of the little one consecrates him for time and eternity to him who said, "Suffer them to come unto me." What an awful work Pani made with the D. D.'s, and the LL. D.'s, and the F. R. S.'s, when he cleared the decks of the old gospel ship by saying, "Not many wise men, not many noble, are called, but God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty."

A Theological Dude.

There sits the dear old theologian with his table piled up with all the great books on inspiration and exegesis and apologetics for the Almighty and writing out his own elaborate work on the philosophy of religion, and his little grandchild coming up to him for a good night kiss he accidentally knocks off the biggest book from the table, and it falls on the head of the child, of whom Christ himself said, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise." Ah, my friends, the Bible wants no apologetics. The throne of the last judgment wants no apologetics. Eternity wants no apologetics. Scientists may tell us that natural light is the "propagation of undulations in an elastic medium, and thus set in vibratory motion by the notion of luminous bodies," but no one knows what gospel light is until his own blind eyes by the touch of the Divine Spirit have opened to see the noonday of pardon and peace. Scientists may tell us that natural sound is "the effect of an impression made on the organs of hearing by an impulse of the air, caused by a collision of bodies, or by other means," but those only know

what the gospel sound is who have heard

the voice of Christ directly, saying: "Thy sins are forgiven thee. Go in peace." The theological dude unrolls upon the plush of the exquisitely carved

pulpit a learned discourse showing that

the garden of Eden was an allegory, and

Solomon's Song a rather indelicate love

story, and the book of Job a drama in which Satan was the star actor, and that Renan was three-quarters right about the miracles of Jesus, and that the Bible was gradually evoluted and the best thought of the different ages, Moses and David and Paul doing the best they could under the circumstances, and therefore to be encouraged. Lord of heaven and earth, get us out of the Lon-

don fog of higher criticism!

The night is dark, and the way is rough, and we have a lantern which God has put in our hands, but instead of employing that lantern to show ourselves and others the right way we are discussing lanterns, their shape, their size, their material, and which is the better light--kerosene, lamp oil or can-dle--and while we discuss it we stand all around the lantern, so that we shut out the light from the multitudes who are stumbling on the dark mountains of sin and death. Twelve hundred dead birds were found one morning a round Burtholdt's shame in New York harbor. They had dashed their life out against the lighthouse the night before. Poor things! And the great lighthouse of the gospel--how many high soaring thinkers have beaten all their religious life out against it, while it was intended for only one thing, and that to show all [?]- [?] the way into the harbor of God's mercy and to the crystalline wharves of the heavenly city, where the immortals are waiting for new arrivals. Dead skybirds, where they might have been flying [?].

A Question of Belief.

[?] also [?], covering up the old gospel, some who think they can by law [?] of crime save the world. [?]. [?] to San Francisco and [?] to New Orleans and Savannah, many of the ministers have gone into the detective business. Worldly reform by all means, but unless it be also gospel reform, it will be dead failure. In New York its chief work has been to give us a change of [?]. We [?] and now it is [?] but the quarrel is, Who shall be the Republican? Politics will save the cities the same day that satan evangelizes perdition.

Here comes another class of people who in pulpit and outside of it cover up the gospel with the theory that it makes no difference what you believe or how you act, you are bound for heaven anyhow. There they sit, side by side, in heaven: Garfield, and Guiteau, who shot him; Lincoln, and John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated him; Washington, and Thomas Paine, who slandered him; Nana Sahib, and the missionaries whom he clubbed to death at Cawnpur; Herod, and the children whom he massacred; Paul, and Nero, who beheaded him. As a result of the promulgation of such a [?] heaven, there are millions of people in Christendom who expect to go straight to heaven from their [?], their inebriation, and their suicides, when among the loudest thunders that break over the basaltic island to which St. John was expatriated was the one in which God announced that "the abominable and the [?] and where mourners and [?] idolaters and all liars, shall [?] their place on the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death." I correct what I said when I declared the gospel was buried 50 feet deep. It is buried 1,000 feet deep. Had the glorious gospel been given full opportunity, I think before this the world would have had no need of pulpit or sermon or prayer or church, but thanksgiving and hosannas would have resounded in the temple to which the mountains would have been pillars, and the blue skies the dome, and the rivers the baptistery, and all nations the worshipers in the auditorium of the outspread world. But so far from that, as I remarked in the opening sentence of this sermon, the greatest novelty of our time is the gospel. And let me say to the hundreds and thousands of educated and splendid young men about to enter the gospel ministry from the theological seminaries of all denominations, on this and the other side of the seas, that there is no drawing power like the glorious gospel.

"Him hath God lifted up to draw all men unto him." Get your souls charged and surcharged with this gospel, and you will have large audiences and will not have to announce in order to assemble such audiences a Sunday night sacred concert, with a brief address by the pastor, or the presence of "Black Pattis," or Creole minstrels, or some new exposure of Tammany, or a sermon accompanied by a magic lantern or stereopticon views.

Glorious News.

The glorious gospel of the blessed God as spoken of in my text will have more drawing power, and when that gospel gets full swing it will have a momentum and a power mightier than that of the Atlantic ocean when under the force of the September equinox it strikes the highlands of the Navesink. The meaning of the word "gospel" is "good news," and my text says it is glorious good news, and we must tell it in our churches, and over our dry goods counters, and in our factories, and over our thrashing machines, and behind our plows, and on our ships' decks, and in our parlors, our nurseries and kitchens, as though it were glorious good news, and not with a dismal drawl in our voice, and a dismal look on our faces, as though religion were a rheumatic twinge, or a dyspeptic pang, or a malarial chill, or an attack of nervous prostration. With nine "blesseds" or "happys," Christ began his sermon on the mount--blessed the poor; blessed the mourner; blessed the meek; blessed the hungry; blessed the merciful; blessed the pure; blessed the peacemakers; blessed the persecuted; blessed the reviled; blessed, blessed, blessed; happy, happy, happy. Glorious good news for the young as through Christ they may have their coming years ennobled, and for a lifetime all the angels of God their coadjutors, and all the armies of heaven their allies. Glorious good news for the middle aged as through Christ they may have their perplexities disentangled, and their courage rallied, and their victory over all obstacles and hindrances made forever pure. Glorious good news for the aged as they may have the sympathy of him of whom St. John wrote, "His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow," and the defense of the everlasting arms. Glorious good news for the dying as they may have ministering spirits to escort them, and opening gates to receive them, and a sweep of eternal glories to encircle them, and the welcome of a loving God to embosom them.

The Bill Was Paid. Oh, my text is right when it speaks of the glorious gospel. It is an invitation from the most radiant being that ever trod the earth or ascended the heavens, to you and me to come and be made happy, and then take after that a royal castle for everlasting residence, the angels of God our cup bearers. The price paid for all of this on the cliff of limestone about as high as this house, about seven minutes' walk from the wall of Jerusalem, where with an agony that with one hand tore down the rocks, and with the other drew a midnight blackness over the heavens, our Lord set us forever free. Making no apology for any one of the billion sins of our life, but confessing all of them, we can point to that cliff of limestone and say, "There was paid our indebtedness, and God never collects a bill twice." Glad am I that all the Christian poets have exerted their pen in extolling the matchless one of this gospel. Isaac Watts, how do you feel concerning him? And he writes, "I am not ashamed to own my Lord."

Newton, what do you think of this gospel? And he writes, "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!" Cowper, what do you think of him? And the answer comes, "There is a fountain filled with blood." Charles Wesley, what do you think of him? And he answers, "Jesus, lover of my soul." Horatius Bonar, what do you think of him? And he responds, "I lay my sins on Jesus." Ray Palmer, what do you think of him? And he writes, "My faith looks up to thee." Fannie Crosby, what do you think of him? And she writes, "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine." But I take higher testimony: Solomon, what do you think of him? And the answer is, "Lily of the valley." Ezekiel, what do you think of him? And the answer is, "Phantom renown." David, what do you think of him? And the answer is, "My shepherd." St. John, what do you think of him? And the answer is, "Bright and morning star." St. Paul, what do you think of him? And the answer comes, "Christ is all in all." Do you think as well of him, O man, O woman of the blood bought immortal spirit? Yes, Paul was right when he styled it "the glorious gospel."

And then as a druggist, while you are waiting for him to make up the doctor's prescription, puts into a bottle so any grains of this, and so many grains of that, and so many drops of this, and so many drops of that, and the intermixture taken, though sour or bitter, restores in health. So Christ, the divine physician, prepares this trouble of our lifetime, and that disappointment, and this persecution, and that hardship, and that test, and we must take the intermixture, yet though it be a bitter draft. Under the divine prescription it administers to our restoration and spiritual health, "all things working together for god." Glorious gospel!

The Royal Castle.

And then the royal castle into which we step out of this life without so much as soiling our feet with the upturned earth of the grave. "They shall reign forever and ever." Does not that mean that you are, if saved, to be kings and queens, and like kings and queens have castles? But the one that you are offered was for 33 years an abandoned

castle, that is now gloriously inhabited.

There is an abandoned royal castle at Amber, Italia. One hundred and seventy years ago a king moved out of it nev-

er to return. But the castle still stands in indescribable grandeur, and you go through brazen doorway after brazen

doorway, and carved room after carved room, and under embellished ceiling after embellished ceiling, and through halls precious stoned into wider halls precious stoned, and on that hill are pavilions deeply dyed and tasseled and arched, the fire of colored gardens cooled

by the snow of white architecture; birds in arabesque so natural to life that while you cannot near their voices y ou imagine you see the flutter of their wings while you are passing; walls pictured with triumphal procession; rooms that were called "Alcove of Ligat" and "Hall of Victory;" marble, white and black, like a mixture of morn and night; alabaster, and mother of

pearl, and lacquer work.

Standing before it the eye climbs from step to latticed balcony, and from latticed balcony to oriel, and from oriel to arch, and from arch to roof, and then descends on ladder of all colors, and by stairs of perfect lines to tropical gardens of pomegranate and pineapple. Seven stories of resplendent architecture! But the royal castle provided for you, if you will only take it on the prescribed terms, is grander than all that, and, though an abandoned castle while Christ was here, achieving your redemption, is again occupied by the "chief among ten thousand," and some of your own kindred who have gone up and waiting for you are leaning from the balcony. The windows of that castle look off on the King's gardens where immortals walk linked in eternal friendship, and the banqueting hall of that castle has princes and princesses at the table, and the wine is "the new wine of the kingdom," and the supper is the marriage supper of the Lamb, and there are fountains into which no tear ever fell, and there is music that trembles with no grief, and the light that falls upon that scene is never beclouded, and there is the kiss of those reunited after long separation. More nerve will we have there than now, or we would swoon away under the raptures. Stronger vision will we have there than now, or our eyesight would be blinded by the brilliance. Stronger ear will we have there than now, or under the roll of that minstrelsy, and the clapping of that acclamation, and the boom of that hallelujah

we would be deafened.

The Coronation. Glorious gospel! You thought religion was a straitjacket; that it put you on the limits; that thereafter you must go cowed down. No, no, no! It is to be castellated. By the cleansing power of the

shed blood of Golgotha set your faces toward the shining pinnacles. Oh, it does not matter much what becomes of

us here--for at the longest our stay is short--if we can only land there. You see there are so many I do want to meet there. Joshua, my favorite prophet, and John among the evangelists, and Paul among the apostles, and Wyclif among the martyrs, and Bourdalone among the preachers, and Dante among the poets, and Havelock among the heroes, and our loved ones whom we have so much missed since they left us, and so many darlings of the heart, their absence sometimes almost unbearable, and, mentioned in this sentence last of all because I want the thought climacteric; our blessed Lord, without whom we could never reach the castle at all. He purchased our ransom. He wept our woes. He suffered our stripes. He died our death. He assured our resurrection. Blessed be his glorious name forever! Singing to his ear be all the anthems! Facing him be all the thrones! Oh, I want to see it, and I will see it--the day of his coronation. On a throne already. Methinks the day will come when in some great hall of eternity all the nations of earth whom he has conquered by his grace will assemble again to crown him. Wide and high and immense and upholstered as with the sunrises and sunsets of 1,000 years, great audience room of heaven. Like the leaves of an Adirondack forest the ransomed multitudes, and Christ standing on a high place surrounded by worshipers and subjects. They shall come out of the farthest past led on by the prophets; they shall come out of the early gospel days led by the apostles; they shall come out of the centuries still ahead of us led on by champions of the truth, heroes and heroines yet to be born.

And then from that vastest audience ever assembled to all the universe there will go up the shout: "Crown him! Crown him! Crown him!" and the Father who long ago promised this his only begotten son, "I will give thee the heathen for thine inheritance and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession," shall set the crown upon the forehead yet scarred with crucifixion bramble, and all the hosts of heaven down on the levels and up in the galleries will drop to their knees, crying: "Hail! King of earth! King of heaven! King of saints! King of seraphs! Thy kingdom, thy everlasting kingdom, and to thy dominions there shall be no end! Amen and amen! Amen and amen!"

FUN IN THE GALLERY. THE PHOTOGRAPHER DOESN'T ALWAYS SEE THE HUMOROUS SIDE. The Woes With Which He is Beset by All Sorts and Conditions of Men--It Is a Business Where Much Knowledge of Human Nature Is Necessary.

"Oh, my goodness gracious, sakes alive! That's horrid. Why, I wouldn't give a picture like that to one of my friends for worlds." "But, Miss Blank, you forget that this is only a proof." "A proof, is it? And what were you trying to prove by making me look like that? That I am 100 years old or had been through a fever before the picture was taken?" "Miss Blank, I think you are a little unreasonable. This is nothing but a proof, and all of these dark shadows and hard lines will be toned down. I admit, as it is, it does not do you justice"--"Justice? Well, I should say not. I ain't very conceited about my looks, but if I thought I was as hideous as that picture makes me I'd wear a mask." This, in substance, is a dialogue in a photography gallery a few days ago. A A woman had come in to see her proofs, and the clerk had blandly handed the cause of all the commotion over the showcase, behind which she had intrenched herself. The customer, or "subject," as the photographers term their patrons, was mad as soon as she saw the proof. But the diplomacy of the young woman behind the showcase would have given points to a politician. She was thoroughly in earnest or confidential or friendly or a little bit troubled, all in one breath. It was apparent that she had been there before, and she demonstrated that she was well acquainted with the premises. And she was truthful. She knew that it wasn't fair to judge the plate by the proof, and, what is more, she succeeded in convincing the subject that this was the case.

"Very well, Miss Blank," she said when the atmosphere had cleared somewhat. "We will finish some of them, and you come in and see 'em, and if you feel then as you do now we won't ask you to take 'em."

As the door closed the clerk rearranged some photographs of party gowns on the showcase, looked away into space for a few moments and murmured, "Oh, bummie," and then went back and thrust her head into the pokebonnet contrivance where she was making ugly people look a little less so, and there

was silence in the room."

"Do you have many cases of that kind to handle?" the photographer was asked.

"Well, no, not many. Of course there are some people who are bound to kick

anyway. But I have noticed that such characters have more self conceit than they are entitled to. We have all kinds of people to handle." And then followed a little dissertation which would interest subjects, and particularly the women, who have ever tried and intend to try conclusions with the camera. The stock remark which at some time nearly every subject utters as she comes into the presence of the camera cyclops is that she had "about as soon have a tooth pulled as to have a picture taken." But that time honored platitude has little excuse for existence nowadays, said the photographer, because in all of the best galleries pictures are taken by short exposure, which is practically instantaneous. The people who know more about photography and the art of getting a good likeness than does the operator often cause him some annoyance and a

good deal of amusement.

"In deciding upon a pose for the

face," continued the photographer, "we must exercise great care. In the few seconds that we have to look at the subject we must decide (provided, of course, we are allowed to decide) what position of the face will give the best likeness. It is true of almost everybody that one side of the face is quite markedly better looking than the other, and for this reason comparatively few full face or front view photos are taken. But sometimes we have to deal with individuals who insist upon a pose of the face that is distinctly bad. Not long ago a certain man came to me with the photograph of a friend which showed the face in clear profile. He said he wanted a photo of himself in exactly that position. It so happened that the model which he submitted had an unusually good profile, and consequently the picture was quite effective. But my subject's profile was faulty. Indeed he had a nose 'as was a nose.' It was gigantic. I saw right away that a profile of his face would be anything but flattering to the owner, and I tried to break it to him gently. "'But,' he said, 'you admit that this is a fine photo, and I know that the likeness is excellent. Why can't you get the same results from my face? I think I am quite as good looking as he is, don't you?' "'That isn't the point,' said I, because I didn't want to hurt the man's feelings. 'You know that no two faces are alike, and I am only telling you that a profile is not your best view.' "But he wasn't satisfied and insisted upon a profile, so rather than anger him I took that view of his face and afterward one which I thought was better. The next day he came in to see his proofs. I showed him the profile first. There was no overlooking that nose. It loomed up like Mount Tom from Smith's Ferry. I pitied the poor chap. He looked up from the proof at me and said: "'Good Lord! Do I look like that?' "'The camera doesn't lie about such things,' I replied, at the same time handing him the other proof. He looked a good deal relieved when he saw the second proof. But I could see that he was badly bored about that nose. He looked at first one and then the other proof for a minute. Then he handed both back to me and said in a humble tone, 'You may develop the other one.' And I didn't need to be told which was the 'other one.'"--Springfield Republican.

BRONZES OF OLD BABYLON. Casts of Figures Made Four Thousand Years Ago.

There have been placed on exhibition in the Babylonian room of the British museum some very fine specimens of Babylonian bronze castings. These interesting specimens of early metal work come from a place known to the ancients as Sir-par-ra, or Lagash, the modern name of which is Tell-lo, a large mound or site in southern Chaldea. One of the bronzes shows the king of Babylonia, who appears clean shaven, in the dress of the high priest. The garment reaches down to the feet and is crossed over the left shoulder, leaving the right arm, which is raised, bare. The statuette is a full length one, standing on its own double plinth, and is some 12 inches high. This bronze comes from Abu Habbab and dates about B. C. 2200. A second statuette represents a king in the attitude of his hands raised and clasped together in a similar manner as the god Nebo is represented. The king wears a long, flowing beard, but

no costume can be traced. This figure is not full length, being cut off about the calves, and represents probably the Chaldean king, Gadea, B. C. 2500. The third figure, which stands seven inches high, represents Camil-Sin, king of Babylonia, in the character of a basket bearer, both arms being uplifted and supporting a basket borne on the head. The date of the figure is about B. C. 3200. It is supposed that these statuettes may have been dedications to Ningirsu, the fire god whose worship was a particular cult at Tell-lo.

The art of making bronze casts was known to the Babylonians from very early times, and many examples are to be seen in the British museum as well as in the Louvre. A plaster cast of a Babylonian queen, taken from the original in the Louvre, stands by the side of the new additions, casts of which have been sent to the French museum.

--London Graphic.

GERMAN WHIST. One of the Few Interesting Games of Cards For Two Hands. There are for some undiscovered reason very few simple two handed card games. And one of the best, and perhaps the best known is German whist. If essentially a game of skill, there is a sufficient element of luck combined to insure a good game even between two unequal players, and the issue is always more or less certain until the last moment.

[?] pack of whist cards is all that is required, and as far as play is concerned the rules of whist are almost entirely applicable. Thirteen cards are dealt to each player, as in the ordinary four handed game. Instead, however,

of turning up the twenty-sixth card, the twenty-seventh card is placed face upward on the remainder of the pack. The suit of this card removes trumps throughout the game.

The dealer's vis-a-vis plays first by

leading a card, and the dealer most follow suit as in whist, or, if he cannot, either trump or throw away a useless card. The first trick is now on the table, and whoever picks it up draws the trump card from the top of the pack. The card below this is drawn by the loser, who does not show its face. The third card on the pack is now turned up and will belong to the winner of the second trick, the loser again drawing the card underneath and so on throughout the pack. In this way the player has 18 cards in his hand until the end. As packs of two are difficult to keep distinct, it is generally found advisable to pile them indiscriminately for the

time being and to count them out at the end of each game.

In playing the cards have the ordinary whist valuations, and when the last cards have been drawn the [?] remain in the hand and played out in the usual way. The difference between the number of tricks taken by the dealer and his opponent is the number of points the winner scores. Each game is usually considered complete in itself, but it is no unusual occurrence to find at the end that each player [?] 13 tricks.

It is difficult in such a short space to give any reliable hints for players, but any one accustomed to whist will fall into the way at once. Obviously, however, it is not always an advantage to take the card which is turned up, and in the case of this being a low one a speculative player will often load the lowest card in his hand in the hope of drawing something better underneath. The player is happy who, when it comes to playing the last 13 cards, finds himself with one long suit and the majority of trumps.--Home Notes.

ONLY A LITTLE WORLD. THIS. Melancholy Reflections of the Young Man From Sauk Bridge.

"What a small world it is, after all!" said the young man from Sauk Bridge, O. He had just moved to Chicago, and for some reason he was not greatly impressed with the immensity of the city. "For instance," he went on, "I had been in my hotel but a week when I discovered that my uncle's divorced wife lives in the next room, while the man who married a girl I used to be engaged to is on the floor below. More than that, the greatest bore I ever knew in my life, a creature who has haunted me ever since my school days, keeps a big boarding house in the next building. I have to dodge him every time I go down town. At 4 o'clock this morning, when I thought of all times I should certainly be alone, I started to walk down State street. It was a misty morning, and the gray fog hid even the one or two all night cabmen who were still sticking to their stands. The street was lonely and deserted. I had walked slowly along

down to Jackson street without meeting

a human being, when suddenly out of the mist a figure loomed.

"'Hello, there!' sounded a voice as we drew close together. 'I haven't seen you for a long time. I'm in pretty tough luck, old man. Can't you stake me to a bed?'

"It was a tramp printer I had known eight years ago in Leadville, Cole. I gave him 50 cents simply because he had proved to me beyond cavil that life runs in circles around a globe, and that all intersect somewhere in their circumferences."--Chicago Tribune.

"The Feast of Reconciliation" was a religious festival established by Queen Mary, to be held Jan 25, [?], to celebrate the return of the Church of England to the see of Rome.

A portrait of a man scratched in bone, apparently the shoulder bone of a sheep, was found in 1857 in a [?]lake dwelling.

Monte Roy, a Spanish viceroy, had his name given to the California town in 1808.

An Incomplete Affair. "It is plain," said the justice, "that you stole the hog, and I shall send you up for 12 months." "Judge, kin you gimme 'bout one hour 'fo' I goes?" "What for?" "Well, suh, I wants ter go home an salt dat hog down!"--Atlantic Constitution.

Electric Shocks. Here are some odd opinions concerning the force of the electric current given by Dr. C. F. Chandler before the Columbian School of Mines: "An interesting misapprehension which exists in the minds of many people is one con-

cerning the vital dangers which lurk in the pressure of, say, 1,000 volts. The newspapers often tell of a man who has been killed from such a pressure, whereas, in fact, such a pressure alone could not kill a humming bird. I have frequently caught in my hand sparks possessing an electric motive power of 100,000 volts without feeling anything more than a very slight burn. The danger arises only when the volts are reenforced by a good many ampheres or currents. In such a case the force of the current suddenly decomposes all the fluids in the body. The salt in the blood instantly turns to chlorine gas, and the person who has his veins charged with such a deadly poison cannot be expected to live many seconds."--St. Louis Republic. Safe. In St. Paul's one day a guide was showing an American gentleman round the tombs. "That, sir," said the man, "his the tomb of the greatest naval 'ero Europe or the whole world hever knew --Lord Nelson's. This marble sarcoughhogus weighs 42 tons. Hinside that his a steel receptacle weighing 12 tons, and hinside that is a leaden casket, 'ermetically sealed, weighing over two tons. Hinside that his a mahogany coffin holding the hashes of the great 'ero." "Well," said the Yankee after thinking awhile, "I guess you've got him. If he ever gets out of that, cable me at my expense."--New York Dispatch. Liked Harmony. A short time ago a young woman of fashion in Washington went to one of the taxidermists of the Smithsonian Institution and wanted a favor. She had with her a bright canary bird, alive and chirruping, and she very much desired the taxidermist to kill and stuff the bird for her. She went on to say that she had "hunted all over the city for a bird of just this shade," because she wanted the plumage to match in color a gown which she was having made. The bird that she brought she wanted stuffed for an ornament for her person.--Kate Field's Washington.

JOHN BROWER, Painter and Glazier. DEALER IN Lewis Bros. Pure White Lead, Linseed Oil and Colors. First Quality Hard Oil and Varnishes. Roberts' Fire and Water Proof Paints. Pure Metallic Paints for Tin and Shingle Roofs (and no other should be used where rain water is caught for family use). All brands of Ready Mixed Paints. Window Glass of all kinds and patterns. Reference given.

STORE ON ASBURY AVE OCEAN CITY N. J.

GILBERT & LAKE, House and Sign Painters. RESIDENCE: 450 West Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Jobbing promptly attended to. Estimates cheerfully given. Guarantee to do first-class work and use the best material. Orders left at Wm. Lake's office, corner Sixth and Asbury avenue, will receive prompt attention. C. THOMAS, NO. 108 MARKET STREET, PHILADELPHIA. HEADQUARTERS OF SOUTH JERSEY FOR FINE FAMILY GROCERIES. ALWAYS THE FRESHEST AND BEST TO BE FOUND IN THE MARKET. Full Flavored Teas, Choice Brands of Coffee, Sugars of all Grades, Canned Fruits, Pickles, Spices, Raisins, Dried Beef, Butter and Lard. Hams of Best Quality, Weighed when Purchased by Customers. No Loss in Weight Charged to Purchasers. Stop in and make selections from the best, largest and freshest stock in Philadelphia. Orders by mail promptly attended to and goods delivered free of charge at any railroad or steamboat in the city. LOW PRICES. Satisfaction Gauranteed. [sic]

Rubinstein.

Rubinstein, the famous pianist, went to confession one day in the [?] cathedral in St. Petersburg. After the confession he stepped to the "sacristy book" to inscribe his name. The officiating priest asked him his name, rank and profession. "Rubinstein, artist," came the answer. "You are in service at some theater?" "No." "You give instruction in some institute?" "No. I am a musician." "Then you are employed somewhere?" "I told you once no." "Well, how, then shall I describe you here?" The two men looked at each other several moments. Then a "wise thought," in his own estimation, came to the priest. "What is your father?" he asked, his eyes brightening.

"Merchant of the second class." "Then," cried the priest, with joy, "at last we know who you are! We shall write, therefore, 'Son of a merchant of the second class.'" This scene gave Rubinstein much food for thought. It led him to establish his conservatory and the musical society in order to teach the Russian people what the word musician might mean.--New York Tribune. Exceptionally Honored. A good old Methodist lady attending service in a suburban Episcopal church last Sunday became happy under the preaching of the word and ejaculated "Glory." She was admonished to keep quiet by two of the brethren and nodded assent, but becoming forgetful responded "Hallelujah." The brethren again called her attention to the annoyance and told her that if she did not keep quiet they would be compelled to remove her. The sermon proceeded, and the old lady, becoming very happy and forgetful of her surroundings, shouted out, "Glory to God." This was too much for the brethren and they tried to lead her out, but she refused to walk, so they carried her. On the way

she said:

"I am honored above my Master, for while he was carried by an ass I am carried by two."--Philadelphia Record.

Always Keep to the Right. The polite dodging that some times occurs between passers in a narrow passage was happily solved once by a tall, ungraceful, bulky Vermonter, who extricated both from the position by saying, "if you will stand still, madam, I will go home." Joseph Ritchie of Roxbury used to tell an experience of his in the days when the ladies' gowns trailed on sidewalks and in street cars, and their temper flashed out if anybody trod upon them. Locking straight at the flushed cheeks and wrinkled forehead, "I [?]," said Mr. Ritchie. [?] politeness.--Boston Tribune.

OCEAN CITY.

A Moral Seaside Resort.

Not Excelled

as a

Health Restorer. Finest facilities for

FISHING, Sailing, gunning, etc.

The Liquor Traffic and its kindred evils are forever prohibited by deed. Every lover of Temperance and Morals should combine to help us.

Water Supply, Railroad, Steamboats And all other Modern Conveniences.

Wheat is mentioned in the Scriptures as a well known grain and under wide

cultivation.

W. L. DOUGLAS $3 SHOE IS THE BEST. NO SQUEAKING.

$5. CORDOVAN, FRENCH & ENAMELLED CALF. $4. $3.50 FINE CALF & KANGAROO. $3.50 POLICE, 3 SOLES. $2.50 $2. WORKINGMEN'S EXTRA FINE. $2. $1.75 BOYS' SCHOOL SHOES. LADIES $3. $2.50 $2. $1.75 BEST DONGOLA.

SEND FOR CATALOGUE. W. L. DOUGLAS, BROCKTON, MASS. Over One Million People wear the W. L. Douglas $3 & $4 Shoes All our shoes are equally satisfactory They give the best value for the money. They equal custom shoes in style and fit. Their wearing qualities are unsurpassed. The prices are uniform--stamped on sole. From $1 to $3 saved over other makes. If your dealer cannot supply you we can. Sold by C. A. CAMPBELL.

Water Supply,

Railroad, Steamboats

And all other Modern Conveniences. Thousands of lots for sale at various prices, located in all parts of the city. For information apply to E. B. LAKE, Secretary, Ocean City Asso'n, SIXTH ST. & ASBURY AVE.