IT WAS A SNOWY DAY WHEN BENAIAH WENT DOWN AND SLEW A LION IN A PIT. Rev. Dr. Talmage Preaches Upon a Heroic Deed--Men Who Have Triumphed Over a Triad of Misfortunes--A Thrilling Story, The Everlasting Flora. NEW YORK, Feb. 24.--Continued winter storms seem to have no effect in diminishing the great audiences that gather every Sunday in and around the

Academy of Music. Today the crowds

were as large as ever, and the spacious

Academy was packed from pit to dome

long before the services began. Dr. Talmage took for his subject "A Snowy Day," the text selected being I Chronicles xi, 22, "He went down and slew a lion in a pit in a snowy day." Have you ever heard of him? His name was Benaiah. He was a man of stout muscle and of great avoirdupois. His father was a hero, and he inherited prowess. He was athletic, and there was iron in his blood, and the strongest bone in his body was backbone. He is known for other wonders besides that of the text. An Egyptian 5 cubits in stature, or about 7 feet 9 inches high, was moving around in braggadocio and flourishing a great spear, careless as to whom he killed, and Benaiah of my text, with nothing but a walking stick, came upon him, snatched the spear from the Egyptian, and with one thrust of its sharp edge put an end to the blatant bully, which makes us think of the story in our Green lesson, too hard for us if the smarter boy on the same bench had not helped us out with it, in which Horatius the Macedonian and Dioxippa the Athenian fought in the presence of Alexander, the Macedonian armed with shield and sword and javelin and the Athenian with nothing but a club. The Macedonian buried the javelin, but the Athenian successfully dodged it and the Macedonian lifted the spear, but the Athenian with the club broke it, and the Macedonian drew the sword, but the Athenian tripped him up before he could strike with it, and then the Athenian with his club would have beaten the life out of the Macedonian, fallen among his

useless weapons, if Alexander had not

commanded, "Stop! Stop!"

Tracked In the Snow. But Benaiah of the text is about to do something that will eclipse even that. There is trouble in all the neighborhood. Lambs are carried off in the night, and children venturing only a little way from their father's house are found mangled and dead. The fact is the land was infested with lions, and few people dared meet one of these grizzly beasts, much less corner or attack it. As a good Providence would have it, one morning a footstep of a lion was tracked in the snow. It had been out on its devouring errand through the darkness, but at last it is found by the impression of the four paws on the white surface of the ground which way the wild beast came and which way it had gone. Perilous undertaking, but Benaiah, the hero of the text, arms himself with such weapons as those early days afforded, gunpowder having been invented in a far subsequent century by the German monk Bertholdus Schwarz. Therefore without gun or any kind of firearms, Benaiah of the text no doubt depended on the sharp steel edge for his own defense and the slaughter of the lion as he followed the track through the snow. It may have been a javelin; it may have been only a knife. But what Benaiah lacks in weapons he will make up in strength of arm and skill of stroke. But where is the lion? We must not get off his track in the snow. The land has many cisterns, or pits, for catching rain, the rainfall being very scarce of [?] seasons, and hence those cisterns, or reservoirs, are digged here and there and yonder. Lions have an instinct which seems to tell them when they are pursued, and this dread monster of which I speak retreats into one of these cisterns which happened to be free of water and is there panting from the long run and licking its paws after a repast of human flesh and after guzzling the red vintage of human blood. Benaiah is all alert and comes cautiously on toward the hiding place of this terror of the fields. Coming to the edge of the pit, he looks down at the lion, and the lion looks up at him. What a moment it was when their eyes aligned! But while a modern Du Chaillu, Gordon Cumming or Sir Samuel Baker or David Livingstone would have just brought the gun to the shoulder, and held his eye against the barrel, and blazed away into the depths, and finished the beast, Benaiah, with only the old time weapon, can do nothing until he gets on a level with the beast and so he jumps into the pit, and the lion, with shining teeth of rage and claws lifted to tear to shreds the last [?] of human life, springs for the man, while Benaiah springs for the beast. But the quick stroke of the steel edge flashed again and again and again until the snow was no longer white and the right foot of triumphant Benaiah is half-covered with the tawny mane of the slain horror of Palestine. Three Troubles. Now you see how emphatic and tragic and tremendous are the words of my text, "He went down and slew a lion in a pit in a snowy day." Why put that in the Bible? Why put it twice in the Bible, once in the book of Samuel and once in the book of Chronicles? Oh, the preached lessons are so many for you and for me! What a cheer in this subject for all those of you who are in conjunction of horrible circumstances. Three things were against Benaiah of my text in the moment of [?], the snow that impeded his movement, the pit that environed him in a small space and the lion, with open jaws and uplifted paw. And yet I hear the shout of Benaiah's victory. Oh, men and women of three troubles, you say, "I could stand one, and I think I could stand two, but three are at least one too many." There is a man in business perplexity and with bad sickness in his family, and old age is coming on. Three troubles--a lion, a pit and snowy day. There is a good woman with failing health and a dissipated husband and a wayward boy--three troubles. There is a young man, salary cut down, bad cough, frowning future--three troubles. There is a maiden with difficult school lessons, she cannot get a face that is not [?] of her schoolmates', a [?] that through hard times she [?] before she graduates--three troubles. There is an author, his

manuscript rejected, his power of origination in decadence, a numbness in forefinger and thumb, which threatens paralysis--three trouble. There is a reporter of fine taste sent to report a pugilism instead of an oratorio, the copy he hands in rejected because the paper

is full, a mother to support on small

income--three troubles. I could march right off these seats and across this platform, if they would come at my call, 500 people with three troubles. This is the opportunity to play the hero or the heroine, not on a small stage, with a few hundred people to clap their approval, but with all the galleries of heaven filled with sympathetic and applauding spectators, for we are "surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses." My brother, my sister, my father, my mother, what a chance you have! While you are in the struggle, if you only have the grace of Christ to listen, a voice parts the heavens, saying, "My grace is sufficient for thee," "Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth," "You shall be more than conquerors." And that reminds me of a letter on my table written by some one whom I suppose to be at this moment present, saying, "My dear, dear doctor, you will please pardon the writer for asking that at some time when you feel like it you kindly preach from the thirtieth psalm, fifth verse, 'Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,' and much oblige a down town business man." So to all down town business men and to all up town business men I say: If you have on hand goods that you cannot sell and debtors who will not or cannot pay, and you are also suffering from uncertainty as to what the imbecile American congress will do about the tariff, you have three troubles, sad enough to bring you within the range of the consolation of my text, where you find the triumph of Benaiah over a lion, and a pit, and a snowy day. If you have only one trouble, I cannot spend any time with you today. You must have at least three, and then remember how many have triumphed over such a triad of misfortune. Paul had three troubles: Sanhendrin denouncing him--that was one great trouble; physical infirmity, which he called "a thorn in the flesh," and although we know not what the thorn was, we do know from the figure he used that it must have been something that struck him--that was the second trouble; approaching martyrdom--that made the three troubles. Yet hear what he says, "If I had only one misfortune, I could stand that, but three are two too many?" No, I misinterpret. He says: "Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. Poor, yet making many rich. Having nothing, yet possessing all things." "Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory through our

Lord Jesus Christ."

David had three troubles, a bad boy, temptation to dissoluteness and dethronement. What does he say? "God in our refuge in strength, a very present help in time of trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be

cast into the midst of the sea."

John Wesley had three troubles--def-amation by mobs, domestic infidelity, fatigue from more sermons preached and more miles traveled than almost any man of his time. What does he say? "The best of all is, God is with us." And when his poet brother, Charles Wesley, said to him, "Brother John, if the Lord were to give me wings, I'd fly," John's reply was, "Brother Charles, if the Lord told me to fly, I'd do it and leave him to find the wings."

Depression of a Snow Day.

George Whitefield had three troubles --rejection from the pulpits of England because he was too dramatic--that was one trouble; strabismus, or the crossing of his eyes, that subjected him to the caricature of all the small wits of the day; vermin and dead animals thrown at him while he preached on the commons--that made three troubles. Nevertheless his sermons were so buoyant that a little child, dying soon after hearing him preach, said in the intervals of pain, "Let me go to Mr. Whitefield's God." Oh, I am so glad that Benaiah of my text was not the only one who triumphed over a lion in a pit on a snowy day!

Notice in my text a victory over bad weather. It was a snowy day, when

one's vitality is at a low ebb and the spirits are naturally depressed and one does not feel like undertaking a great enterprise, when Benaiah rubs his hands together to warm them by extra friction, or thrashes his arms around him to revive circulation of the blood, and then goes at the lion, which was all the more fierce and ravenous because of the sharp weather. Inspiration here admits atmospheric hindrance. The snowy day at Valley Forge well nigh put an end to the struggle for American Independence.

The snowy day demolished Napoleon's army on the way from Moscow.

The inclemency of January and February weather has some years bankrupted thousands of merchants. Long succession of stormy Sabbaths has crippled innumerable churches. Lighthouses veiled by the snow on many a coast have failed to warn off from the rocks the doomed frigate. Tens of thousands of Christians of nervous temperament by the depression of a snowy day almost despair of reaching heaven. Yet in that style of weather Benaiah of the text achieved his most celebrated victory,

and let us by the grace of God become

victor over influences atmospheric. If we

are happy only when the wind blows

from the clear northwest, and the thermometer is above freezing point, and the sky is an inverted blue can of sunshine poured all over us, it is a religion 95 per cent off. Thank God there are Christians who, though their whole life through sickness has been a snowy day, have killed every lion of despondency that dared to put its cruel paw against their suffering pillow. It was a snowy day when the Pilgrim Fathers set foot not on a bank of flowers, but on the cold New England rock, and from a ship that might have been more appropriately called after a December hurricane than after a "Mayflower" they took possession of this great continent. And amid more chilly worldly circumstances many a good man or a good woman has taken possession of a whole continent of spiritual satisfaction, valleys of peace and rivers of gladness and

mountains of joy. Christ landed in our world not in the month of July, but in the stormy month of December, to show us that we might have Christ in winter weather and on a snowy day.

A Fearful Blast. Notice everything down in the pit that snowy day depended upon Benaiah's weapon. There was as much strength in one muscle of that lion as in all the muscles of both arms of Benaiah. It is the strongest of beasts and has been known to carry off an ox. Its tongue is so rough that it acts as a rasp tearing off the flesh in licks. The two great canines at each side of the mouth make escape impossible for anything it has once seized. Yet Benaiah puts his heel on the neck of this "king of beasts." Was it a dagger? Was it a javelin? Was it a knife? I cannot tell, but everything depended on it. But for that Benaiah's body under one crunch of the monster would have been left limp and tumbled in the snow. And when you and I go into the fight with temptation, if we have not the right kind of weapon, instead of our slaying the lion the lion will slay us. The sword of the Spirit! Nothing in earth or hell can stand before that. Victory with that, or no victory at all. By that I mean prayer to God, confidence in his rescuing power, saving grace, almighty deliverance. I do not care what you call it. I call it "sword of the Spirit." And if the lions of all the jungles of perdition should at once spring upon your soul by that weapon of heavenly metal you can thrust them back, and cut them down, and stab them through, and leave them powerless at your feet. Your good resolution wielded against the powers which assault you is a toy pistol against an armstrong gun; is a penknife held out against the brandished sabers of a Heintzelman's cavalry charge. Go into the fight against sin on your own strength, and the result will be the hot breath of the lion in your blanched face, and his front paws one on each lung.

Alas! for the man not fully armed down in the pit on a snowy day, and before him a lion!

All my hearers and readers have a big fight of some sort on hand, but the

biggest and wrathiest with which you have to fight is what the Bible calls "the roaring lion who walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." Now, you have never seen a real lion unless you have seen him in India or Africa, just after capture. Long caging breaks his spirit, and the constant presence of human beings tames him. But you ought to see him spring against the iron bars in the ecological gardens of Calcutta and hear him roar for the prey. It makes one's blood curdle, and you shrink back, although you know there is no peril. Plenty of lions in olden time. Six hundred of them were slaughtered on one occasion in the presence of Pompey in the Roman amphitheater. Lions came out and destroyed the camels which carried the baggage of Xerxes' army. In Bible times there were so many lions that they are frequently alluded to in the Scriptures. Joel, the prophet, describes the "cheek teeth" of a great lion, and Isaiah mentions among the attractions of heaven that "no lion shall be there," and Amos speaks of a shepherd taking a lamb's ear out of the mouth of a lion, and Solomon describes the righteous as "bold as a lion," and Daniel was a great lion tamer, and David and Jere-

miah and St. John often speak of this creature.

But most am I impressed by what I have quoted from the Apostle Peter when he calls the devil a lion. That

means strength. That means blood-

thirstiness. That means cruelty. That means destruction. Some of you have felt the strength of his paw, and the

sharpness of his tooth, and the horror of his rage. Yes, he is a savage devil. He roared at everything good when Lord

Claverhouse assailed the Covenanters, and Bartholomew against the Huguenots one August night when the bell tolled for the butchery to begin, and the ghastly joke in the street was, "Blood letting is good in August," and 50,000 assassin knives were plunged into the victims, and this monster has had under his paw many of the grandest souls of all time, and fattened with the spoils

of centuries he comes for you.

But I am glad to say to all of you who have got the worst in such a struggle that there is a lion on our side if you want him, Revelation v, 5, "The

lion of Judah's tribe." A Lamb to us,

but a lion to meet that other lion, and you can easily guess who will beat in

that fight, and who will be beaten. When

two opposing lions meet in a jungle in India, you cannot tell which will overcome and which will be overcome. They glare at each other for a moment, and then with full strength of muscle they dash against each other like two thunderbolts of colliding stormclouds, and with jaws like the crush of avalanches, and with a resounding voice that makes the Himalayas tremble, and with a pull and tear and clutch and trample and shaking of the head from side to side until it is too much for human endurance to witness, and, though one lion may be left dead, the one which has conquered crawls away lacerated and lashed and lame and eyeless to bleed to death in an adjoining jungle. But if you and I feel enough our weakness in this battle of temptation that old lion of hell described in St. Peter, will go the stronger lion described in Revelation, and it will be no uncertain grapple, but under one omnipotent stroke of the devouring monster that would slay our soul shall go reeling back into a pit 10,000 times deeper than that in which Benaiah slew the lion on a snowy day.

On Snowy Days. A word to all who are in a snowy day. Oh, fathers and mothers who have lost children, that is the weather that cuts through body and soul. But drive back the lion of bereavement with the thought which David Rae of Edinburgh got from the Scotch gravedigger, who was always planting white clover and the sweetest flowers on the children's graves in the cemetery, and when asked why he did so replied: "Surely, sir, I canna make ower fine the bed coverin o' a little innocent sleeper that's waitin there till it's God's time to waken it and cover it with the white robe, and waft it away to glory. When sic grandeur is waitin it yonder, its' fit it should be decked oot here. I think the Saviour that counts its dust sae precious will like to see the white clover shoot spread ower it. Do ye noo think so, too, sir?" Cheer up all, disconsolates. The best work for God and humanity has been done on the snowy day. At gloomy Marine Terrace, island of Jersey, the exile Victor Hugo, wrought the mightiest achievement of his pen. Ezekiel, banished and bereft and an invalid at Coruhill, on the banks of the Chebar, had his momentous vision of the cherubim and wheels within wheels. By the dim light of a dungeon window at Hedford, John Bunyan sketches the "Delectable Mountains." Milton writes the greatest poem of all time without eyes. Michael Angelo carved a statue out of snow, and all Florence gazed in rapture at its exquisiteness, and many of God's servants have out of the cold cut their immortality. Persecutions were the dark background that made more impressive the courage and consecration of Savonarola, who, when threatened with denial of burial, said, "Throw me into the Arno if you choose; the resurrection day will find me, and that is enough." Benaiah on a cold, damp, cutting snowy day gained [?] triumph. Hardship and trouble have again and again exalted and inspired and glorified their subjects.

The bush itself has mounted higher And flourished [?] in fire.

Well, we have had many snowy days within the past month, and added to the chill of the weather was the chilling dismay at the nonarrival of the ocean steamer Gascogne. Overdue for eight days, many had given her up as lost, and the most hopeful were very anxious. The cyclones, whose play in

shipwrecks, had been reported being in wildest romp all up and down the At-

lantic. The ocean a few days before had swallowed up the Elbe, and with unappeased appetite seemed saying, "Give us more of the best shipping." The Normandie came in on the same track the Gascogne was to travel, and it had not seen her. The Tentonic, saved almost by the superhuman efforts of captain and crew, came in and had heard [?]

of distress from that missing steamer.

There were pale faces and wringing

hands on both continents, and tears rolled down cold cheeks on those snowy days. We all feared that the worst had happened and talked of the city of Boston as never heard of after sailing and the steamship President, on which the brilliant Cookman sailed, never re-

ported and never be heard of again

until the time when the sea gives up its dead. But at last, under most powerful glass at Fire Island, a ship was seen limping this way over the waters. Then we all began to hope that it might be the missing French liner. Three [?] of tedious and agonizing waiting and two continents in suspense. When will the eye glasses at Fire Island [?[ elation of this awful mystery of [?]. There it is! Ha, ha! The Gascogne. Quick! Wire the news to the city! Swing the flags out on the towers! Ring the bells! Sound the whistles [?] shipping all the way up from Sandy Hook to New York Battery! "She's safe! She's safe!" are the words caught up

and passed on from street to street. "[?] is the Gascogne!" is the cry sounding through all our delighted homes and thrilling all the telegraph wires of the continent and all the cables under the sea, and the huzza on the wharfs as the gangplanks were swung out for disembarkation was a small part of the [?] that lifted both hemispheres [?]- tation. The flakes of snow fell on the "extra" as we opened it on the [?] get the latest particulars. From Chill Snow to White Flowers. Well, it will be better than that when some of you are seen entering the harbor of heaven. You have had a rough voyage. No mistake about that, snowy day after snowy day. Again and again the machinery of health and courage broke down, and the waves of temptation have swept clear over the hurricane deck, so that you were often compelled to say, "All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me," and you were down in the trough of that sea and down in the trough of the other sea, and many despaired of your safe arrival. But the great pilot, not one who must come off from some other craft, but the one who walked storm swept Galilee and now walks the wintry Atlantic, comes on board and heads you for the haven, when no sooner have you passed the narrows of death than you find all the banks lined with immortals celebrating your arrival, and while some break off palm branches from the banks and wave them those standing on one side will chant, "There shall be no more sea," and those standing on the other side will chant, "These are they which came out of great tribulation and had their robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb." Off the stormy sea into the smooth harbor. Out of [?] nine struggle in the pit to guidance by the Lamb, who shall lead you to living fountains of water. Out of the snowy day of earthly severities into the gardens of everlasting flora and into orchards of eternal fruitage, the fall of their white blossoms the only snow in heaven.

THE CANNIBAL SNAKE. He Had a Wonderful Appetite and Tried to Satisfy It. The Cincinnati zoo has a cannibal snake. The fact was discovered Saturday, when his snakeship was caught in the act. Superintendent Stephan some months ago placed in one of the large glass cages used for reptiles in the carnivora a lot of about 25 snakes of different kinds. There were a couple of Florida gopher snakes and a number of house snakes, garter snakes, black snakes and others. Besides these there was a fine specimen of pine snake, 7½ feet long. The pine snake is of a cream color, long and graceful, and made a striking contrast with the glassy blue black of the gopher. Some months ago one of the house snakes disappeared. Superintendent Stephan asked the keepers about the disappearance, but they could not account for it. About two weeks later another snake disappeared. One after another the house snakes disappeared, but no explanation could be had. Recently it was noticed that the garter snakes were decreasing in number and one by one they disappeared. The superintendent took young Meyers, son of the snake keeper, and who was a new hand, to task for his apparent neglect, but Meyer maintained his innocence. "Well, the [?] evaporate, and they are disappearing one by one," said the superintendent. In time the garter snakes all disappeared, and then black snakes began to take their departure in the same mystifying way. Stephan made a careful examination of the glass cage for about the twentieth time, but could find no place where they could escape. The [?] were all covered with wire screens, and the traps for [?] were in good shape.

This was about two weeks ago, and Stephan was beginning to think that the keepers were more careful. Saturday morning he walked up to the cage, and this time the cream colored pine snake was not in sight. The gophers were twisted up in a coil in one corner, but the pine snake could not be seen. He cabled the young Meyer.

"Where is that pine snake?"

"I am sure I don't know," said the young keeper as he came toward the cage. "You let him out when you tended them this morning." "No, he was there then, and I left him there."

"Well, if he was there then and ain't there now, what else could have let him out?" "I answer I don't know. He may be there now, twisted up with the gophers." Meyer produced a long pole and reached with it into the cage. He turned over the coil of snakes. "There he is!" he cried as a flash of cream color lit up the dark background. He yanked the pile out to the front of the cage, when a queer sight confronted him, which [?] the whole problem. But one half of the pine snake was visible, and that protruding out of the mouth of one of the gophers. "That gopher is a cannibal," said Stephan. "Yes, and that's how the snakes have been getting out of the cage without my letting them out," said Meyer. "Haul them out, and let's try to save the pine," said Stephan. The hook was thrown behind them, and gopher and pine snake were dragged out into a large tin pan. It would not do to make a pull on the tails of the two snakes, as that would break the fangs of the gopher and prevent his feeding. Stephan then took a lead pencil and with it pried open the gopher's mouth. He then inserted another pencil behind the fangs and pulled out the pine snake. They were then placed in separate cages and fed upon a liberal allowance of milk. For a few hours it was doubtful if the pine snake would get well, but he revived in the evening and is now out of danger. The cannibal is now kept in a cage by himself as an especial attraction. The gopher is a foot shorter than the pine snake.--Cincinnati Post.

IN FAVOR OF HORSE MEAT. Veterinarians Say They Know of No Objection to Its Use.

"Shall we eat horse?" is a question which a Philadelphia newspaper has been putting to leading veterinarians. While none of them answered squarely in the affirmative, there was general concurrence in the opinion that horse meat makes rather good eating at a pinch. Francis Bridge said, "The flesh is as nutritious and in flavor as good as that of the bovine, and I see no good reason to interdict its use as human food." W. L. Zuill declared that he would eat it in preference to pork. It is "more juicy and of better flavor than ox flesh," he said. S. J. J. Hargar, who had once eaten a mule tenderloin, found it inferior in fiber and taste to beef. E. M. Michiner thought that horse-flesh was not injurious to "human health," and he pointed out that neither tuberculosis, actinomycosis or trichina was found in the horse, the exception being noted that rare cases of tuberculosis had been recorded. John W. Gadsden believed that the flesh of young horses properly cooked was good for man, and he thought that if horses got much cheaper "there would be a great temptation to try it." Samuel C. Weber said: "The flesh of the horse seems to remain tender with age and has a more pungent savor than that of other animals. From these superior qualities it may readily be seen why it should be more digestible than other meat, which often comes from animals which are prematurely as well as excessively fattened. In Europe, where raw meat is prescribed by physicians, it is generally that of the horse. They claim it is more healthy for those undergoing severe muscular exercise and more nutritious for the weak and anemic."

Alexander Glass sounded a warning in the following experience: "In two instances, when I ate horseflesh, I found the meat very tender and rather pleasant to the taste. At the time I could not shake off the thought, 'What if this horse had incipient glanders?' for some

of that meat was very rare." Several years ago Dr. Huidekoper of Philadelphia invited some members of the Philadelphia clubs and of the City troop to dinner, at the conclusion of which he announced to his guests, who were much pleased with the repast, that they had dined of the carcass of his old white horse Fedora.

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New Form of Color Blindness.

The subject of color blindness, the great importance of which has been widely recognized only within recent years, continues to [?] the attention of many [?] experimenters. Professor K[?]g of Berlin has just discovered a form of this infirmity hitherto unrecognized. Persons who are said to be "typically" color blind see yellow where normal eyes see red, while those who are totally color blind are able to perceive no colors at all. The new form of color blindness discovered by the German savant appears to be intermediate between the "typical" and the "total" case. Those who suffer from it perceive nothing but white in the entire [?] of the solar spectrum, except that at the end where the ordinary eye perceives a bright red they see a faint shade of yellow, while at the violet end of the spectrum they are sensible of a slight blueness in the light. The dangers that arise from color blindness are frequently pointed out, and much pain is taken to guard against them in the selection of engineers for railway [?] and steersmen for vessels, but [?] of the deprivation of [?] which those other whose eyes are not sensitive to all the colors that [?]. A person who [?] is about as much to [?] one who is deaf, for a [?] of the beauty of the world must [?] to those who know in the [?] nor violet, but only vague [?] of whiteness or grayness.--Youth's Companion.

The Valuable Black Frock.

No woman who studies the art of dress undervalues the black gown. And yet how few wear it with discretion!

Black becomes fair hair and a bright complexion. The darker woman must relieve it with touches of vivid color. A new model for the handsome black gown which no gentleman's library--that is to say, no woman's wardrobe--is supposed to be without is of black velvet stiffened just a bit with crinoline. Inside the skirt, for beauty's sake and that same joy all women have in dainty underwear, these should be a pinked, out frill of black silk, and the skirt itself should be wide enough to have the season's sweep of dignity. We don't cling, you know, this winter. We stand on our dignity. There's a subtle connection between wide skirts and the broidered with jet in quite an open pattern. For a bodice a blouse is very effective and may be of black and white or red and black checked silk or of a stripe of black and white or black and amber. To wear this same velvet skirt of an evening you need only substitute a pink or white chiffon calico with your favorite flowers.--Philadelphia Times.

A Woman of Beauty and Nerve. Since the death of Seyffert, the Vienna executioner, the authorities have received scores of applications for his place, of which the most curious is that of a pretty woman, who sends her photograph with the following letter: "I am 18 years old and possess great physical strength. My sex and above all my beauty fit me for the employment I solicit. The fact is that the last person on whom the condemned man fixes his gaze is the executioner, who nine times out of ten is repulsively homely. How much more consoling it would be for a criminal before entering into eternity to have the knot adjusted by the soft hands of a woman, whose bewitching glances would cause him to forget for an instant the terrors of a mortal agony worse than death."--Vienna Letter.

Fought Shy of the Trap.

Some years since, while hunting in northern Michigan, I tried, with the aid of a professional trapper, to entrap a

fox who made nightly visits to a spot where the entrails of a deer had been thrown. Although he tried every expedient that suggested itself to us, all were unsuccessful, and, what seemed

very singular, we always found the trap sprung. My companion insisted that the animal dug beneath it, and putting his paw beneath the jaw pushed down the pan with safety to himself, but that the appearance seemed to confirm it I

could hardly credit his explanation. Another year, in another locality of the same region, an old and experienced trapper assured one of its [?] said in confirmation that he had several

times caught them, after they had [?] two or three successful [?] to spring the trap, by the simple expedient of setting it upside down, when, of course, the fact of undermining and pushing the jaw would bring the paw within the grasp of the jaws.--Mr. [?]more of Boston in Nature.

Wily Reynard.

Those familiar with the "Fables of Aesop" will remember the reputation which Reynard bears among the rest of the animals. It is questionable whether any wild creature can compare with the fox in craftiness. To look at him gen-

erally, even in his ordinary habits, he exhibits some amount of cleverness which astonishes one. Should a fox catch a hedgehog, whose spines effectually pro-

tect him from most of his enemies, he does not waste time, as a fox terrier will, in endeavoring to worry his prey. He merely rolls him to the near-

est water, knowing that a drop or two will cause the animal to relax his hold.

It is a rare thing to catch one in a trap hidden at the door of his "earth"

even. If he is inside when the trap is set, he waits until some other animal springs it and then emerges to eat the victim and the bait. Only when driven by the terrible pangs of hunger will he tempt fate in his own person. Most animals gorge themselves when they are

fortunate enough to come across a super-

abundance of food. Not so with Reynard.

Should he find a poultry yard well stocked and ill protected he fills his larders first. Nor does he, as the proverb says, "put all his eggs in one basket." He puts one fowl in a hedge, hides another in a bush, places a third in a hole in a tree, rapidly digs a cavity for a fourth and covers it up again, remembering in each case where his stores are concealed. And when his supplies are sufficient in his own estimation he takes a fine fat chicken or duck to his "earth" for present enjoyment.

Looking Backward.

The superstition of the ill luck of

looking backward or returning is a very ancient one, originating doubtless from Lot's wife, who "looked back

from behind him" when he was led by

an angel outside the doomed city of the plain. In Roberts' "Oriental Illustrations" it is stated to be "considered exceedingly unfortunate in Hindoostan for men or women to look back when they leave their house. Accordingly, if a

man goes out and leaves something be-

hind him which his wife knows he will

want, she does not call him to turn or look back, but takes or sends it after him, and if some great emergency obliges

him to look back he will not then pro-

ceed on the business he was about to

transact."--Exchange.

Energy In Matter.

It is estimated by Professor Dolhear that a lump of coal weighing a pound has in it energy enough to lift its weight 1,000 miles high. He says that this energy is inherent in matter; that every particle of matter is constantly exerting its force on every other particle, and that if not prevented they will come together, no matter how far apart they

may be.

A Precaution.

Amateur Sportsman--Your beaters are uncommonly stout. I have noticed the fact before. How is it? Head Gamekeeper--At ordinary times they are lean enough, sir, but when we have the gentlemen from town they always pad their clothes to prevent the shot going through.--Fliegende Blatter.

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.

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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.