THE GOSPEL'S CALL. "SALVATION" THE THEME OF REV. DR. T. DE WITT TALMAGE. "Seek Ye the Lord While He May Be Found" Supplies the Text For an Eloquent Discourse--A Call to the Unconverted.

NEW YORK, April 28.--Rev. Dr. Talmage today again preached to a great audience in the Academy of Music. As usual, many were turned away for lack of seats. The sermon was on "Salvation," the text selected being Isaiah ly, 6, "Seek ye the Lord while he may be

found."

Isaiah stands head and shoulders above the other Old Testament authors in vivid descriptiveness of Christ. Other prophets give an outline of our Saviour's features. Some of them present, as it were, the side face of Christ, others a bust of Christ, but Isaiah gives us the full length portrait of Christ. Other Scripture writers excel in some things--Eze-kiel more weird, David more pathetic, Solomon more epigrammatic, Habakkuk more sublime--but when you want to see Christ coming out from the gates of prophecy in all his grandeur and glory you involuntarily turn to Isaiah, so that if the prophecies in regard to Christ might be called the "Oratorio of the Messiah" the writing of Isaiah is the "Halleluiah Chorus," where all the batons wave and all the trumpets come in. Isaiah was not a man picked up out of insignificance by inspiration. He was known and honored. Josephus and Philo and Sirach extolled him in their writings. What Paul was among the apostles

Isaiah was among the prophets.

My text finds him standing on a mountain of inspiration, looking out into the future, beholding Christ advancing and anxious that all men might know him. His voice rings down the ages, "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found." "Oh," says some one, "that was for olden times." No, my hearer. If you have traveled in other lands, you have taken a circular letter of credit from some banking house in New York and in St. Petersburg or Venice or Rome or Melbourne or Calcutta. You presented that latter and got financial help immediately. And I want you to understand that the text, instead of being appropriate for one age or for one land, is a circular letter for all ages and for all lands, and wherever it is presented for help the help comes. "Seek ye the Lord while he may be found."

Personal Religion. I come today with no hair spun theories of religion, with no nice distinctions, with no elaborate disquisition, but with an urgent call to personal religion. The gospel of Christ is a powerful medicine. It either kills or cures. There are those who say: "I would like to become a Christian. I have been waiting a good while for the right kind of influences to come," and still you are waiting. You are wiser in worldly things than you are in religious things. If you want to get to Albany, you go to the Grand Central depot or to the steamboat wharf, and having got your ticket you do not sit down on the wharf or sit in the depot. You get aboard the boat or train. And yet there are men who say they are waiting to get to heaven, waiting, waiting, but not with intelligent waiting, or they would get on board the line of Christian influences that would bear them into the kingdom of God. Now, you know very well that to seek a thing is to search for it with earnest endeavor. If you want to see a certain man in this city, and there is a matter of $10,000 connected with your seeing him, and you cannot at first find him, you do not give up the search. You look in the directory, but cannot find the name. You go in circles where you think perhaps he may mingle, and having found the part of the city where he lives, but perhaps not knowing the street, you go through street after street and from block to block, and you keep on searching for weeks and for months. You say, "It is a matter of $10,000 whether I see him or not." Oh, that men were as persistent in seeking for Christ! Had you one-half that persistence you would long ago have found him who is the joy of the forgiven spirit. We may pay our debts, we may attend church, we may relieve the poor, we may be public benefactors, and yet all our life disobey the text, never seek God, never gain heaven. Oh, that the Spirit of God would help me, while I try to show you, in carrying out the idea of my text, first how to seek the Lord and in the next place when to seek him.

Necessity for Earnestness. I remark, in the first place, you are to seek the Lord through earnest and believing prayer. God is not an autocrat or a despot seated on a throne, with his arms resting on brazen lions and a sentinel pacing up and down at the foot of the throne. God is a father seated in a bower, waiting for his children to come and climb on his knee and get his kiss and his benediction. Prayer is the cup with which we go to the "fountain of living water" and dip up refreshment for our thirsty soul. Grace does not come to the heart as we set a cask on the corner of the house to catch the rain in the shower. It is a pulley fastened to the throne of God, which we pull, bringing the blessing. I do not care so much what posture you take in prayer nor how large an amount of voice you use. You might get down on your face before God, if you did not pray right inwardly there would be no response. You might cry at the top of your voice, and unless you had a believing spirit within your cry would not go further up than the shout of a plowboy to his oxen. Prayer must be believing, earnest, loving. You are in your house some summer day, and a shower comes up, and a bird, affrighted, darts into the window and wheels about the room. You seize it. You smooth its ruffled plumage. You feel its fluttering heart. You say, "Poor thing, poor thing!" Now, a prayer goes out of the storm of this world into the window of God's mercy, and he catches it, and he feels its fluttering pulse, and he puts it in his own bosom of affection and safety. Prayer is a warm, ardent, pulsating exercise. It is an electric battery which, touched, thrills to the throne of God. It is the diving bell in which we go down into the depths of God's mercy and bring up "pearls of great price." There was no instance where prayer made the waves of the [?] solid as stone pavement. Oh, how many wonderful things prayer has accomplished! Have you ever tried it? In the days when Scotch Covenanters were persecuted and the enemies were after them one of the head men among the Covenanters prayed, "O Lord, we be as dead men unless thou shalt help us! O Lord, throw the lap of thy cloak over these poor things!" And instantly a Scotch mist enveloped and hid the persecuted from their persecutors--the promise literally fulfilled, "While they are yet speaking I will

hear."

The Power of Prayer. Have you ever tried the power of prayer? God says, "He is loving and faithful and patient." Do you believe that? You are told that Christ came to save sinners. Do you believe that? You are told that all you have to do to get the pardon of the gospel is to ask for it. Do you believe that? Then come to him and say: "O Lord, I know thou canst not lie. Thou hast told me to come for pardon and I could get it. I come, Lord. Keep thy promise and liberate my captive soul." Oh, that you might have an altar in the parlor, in the kitchen, in the store, in the barn, for Christ will be willing to come again to the manger to hear prayer. He would come to your place of business as he confronted Matthew,

the tax commissioner. If a measure

should come before congress that you thought would ruin the nation, how you

would send in petitions and remon-

strances. And yet there has been enough sin in your heart to ruin it forever, and you have never remonstrated or petitioned against it. If your physical

health failed and you had the means, you would go and spend the summer in Germany and the winter in Italy, and you would think it a very cheap outlay if you had to go all round the earth to get back your physical health. Have you made any effort, any expenditure, any exertion, for your immortal and spirit-

ual health?

Oh, that you might now begin to seek after God with earnest prayer! Some of you have been working for years and years for the support of your families. Have you given one-half day to the working out of your salvation with fear and trembling? You came here with an earnest purpose, I take it, as I have come hither with an earnest purpose, and we meet face to face, and I tell you, first of all, if you want to find the Lord you must pray and pray and pray. I remark again you must seek the Lord through Bible study. The Bible is the newest book in the world. "Oh," you say, "it was made hundreds of years ago, and the learned men of King James translated it hundreds of years ago." I confute that idea by telling you it is not five minutes old when God by his blessed spirit retranslates it into the heart. If you will, in the seeking of the way of life through Scripture study, implore God's light to fall upon the page, you will find that these promises are not one second old, and that they drop straight from the throne of God into

your heart.

The Book of Books.

There are many people to whom the Bible does not amount to much. If they merely look at the outside beauty, why, it will no more lead them to Christ than Washington's farewell address, or the Koran of Mohammed, or the Shaster of the Hindoos. It is the inward light of God's word you must get. I went up to the Church of the Madeleine in Paris and looked at the doors, which are the most wonderfully constructed I ever saw, and I could have staid there for a whole week, but I had only a little time. So, having glanced at the wonderful carving on the doors, I passed in and looked at the radiant altars and the sculptured dome. Alas, that so many stop at the outside door of God's holy word, looking at the rhetorical beauties instead of going in and looking at the altars of sacrifice and the dome of God's mercy and salvation that hovers over the penitent

and believing souls!

Oh, my friends, if you merely want to study the laws of language, do not

go to the Bible. It was not made for that. Take "Howe's Elements of Crit-

icism." It will be better than the Bible for that. If you wanted to study metaphysics, better than the Bible will be the writings of William Hamilton. But if you want to know how to have sin pardoned and at last to gain the blessedness of heaven search the Scriptures, "for in them ye have eternal life." When people are anxious about their souls, there are those who recommend good books. That is all right. But I want to tell you that the Bible is the best book under such circumstances. Baxter wrote "A Call to the Unconverted," but the Bible is the best call to the unconverted. Philip Doddridge wrote "The Rise and Progress of Religion In the Soul," but the Bible is the best rise and progress. John Angell James wrote "Advice to the Anxious Inquirer," but the Bible is the best advice to the anxious inquirer. Oh, the Bible is the very book you need, anxious and inquiring soul! A dying soldier said to his mate, "Com-

rade, give me a drop!" The comrade shook up the canteen and said, "There

isn't a drop of water in the canteen."

"Oh," said the dying soldier, "that's not what I want. Feel in my knapsack for my Bible," and his comrade found the Bible and read him a few of the gracious promises, and the dying soldier said: "Ah, that's what I want. There isn't anything like the Bible for a dying soldier, is there, my comrade?" Oh, blessed book while we live! Blessed book when we die!

Another Necessity. I remark again we must seek God through church ordinances. "What," say you, "can't a man be saved without going to church?" I reply there are men, I suppose, in glory who have never seen a church, but the church is the ordained means by which we are to be brought to God, and if the truth affects us when we are alone it affects us more mightily when we are in the assembly, the feelings of others emphasizing our own feelings. The great law of sympathy comes into play, and a truth that would take hold only with the grasp of a sick man beats mightily against the soul with a thousand heart throbs.

When you come into the religious circle, come only with one notion and only for one purpose--to find the way to Christ. When I see people critical about sermons, and critical about tones of voice, and critical about sermonic delivery, they make me think of a man in prison. He is condemned to death, but an officer of the government brings a pardon and puts it through the wicket of the prison and says: "Here is your pardon. Come and get it." "What! Do you expect me to take that pardon offered with such a voice as you have, with such an awkward manner as you have? I would rather die than so compromise my rhetorical notions." Ah, the man does not say that. He takes it. It is his life. He does not care how it is handed to him. And if today that pardon from the throne of God is offered to our souls should we not seize it regardless of all nonessentials?

But I come now to the last part of my text. It tells us when we are to seek the Lord, "while he may be found." When is that? Old age? You may not see old age. Tomorrow? You may not see tomorrow. Tonight? You may not see to-

night. Now! Oh, if I could only write on every heart in three capital letters that word N-O-W--now!

Sin is an awful disease. I hear people say with a toss of the head and with a trivial manner, "Oh, yes, I'm a sinner." Sin is an awful disease. It is leprosy. It is dropsy. It is consumption. It is all moral disorders in one. Now, you know there is a crisis in a disease. Perhaps you have had some illustration of it in your family. Sometimes the physician has called, and he has looked at the patient and said: "That case was simple enough, but the crisis has passed. If you had called me yesterday or this morning, I could have cured the patient. I could have cured the patient. It is too late now. The crisis has passed." Just so it is in the spiritual treatment of the soul--there is a crisis.

The Accepted Time.

There are some here who can remember instances in life when, if they had bought a certain property, they would have become very rich. A few acres that would have cost them almost nothing were offered them. They refused them. Afterward a large village or city sprung up on those acres of ground, and they see what a mistake they made in not buying the property. There was an opportunity of getting it. It never came back again. And so it is in regard to a man's spiritual and eternal fortune. There is a chance. If you let that go, perhaps it never comes back. Certainly

that one never comes back.

A gentleman told me that at the battle of Gettysburg he stood upon a height looking off upon the conflicting armies. He said it was the most exciting moment of his life. Now one army seeming to triumph and now the other. After awhile the host wheeled in such a way that he knew in five minutes the whole question would be decided. He said the emotion was almost unbearable. There is just such a time today with you--the forces of light on one side, the forces of death on the other side, and in a few moments the matter will

be settled for eternity.

There is a time which mercy has set for leaving port. If you are on board before that, you will get a passage for heaven. If you are not on board, you miss your passage for heaven. As in law courts a case is sometimes adjourned from term to term and from year to year till the bill of costs eats up the entire estate, so there are men who are adjourning the matter of religion from time to time and from year to year until heavenly bliss is the bill of costs the man will have to pay for it.

Delays Are Dangerous. Why defer this matter, oh, my dear hearer? Have you any idea that sin will wear out; that it will evaporate; that it will relax its grasp; that you may find religion as a man accidentally finds a lost pocketbook? Ah, no! No man ever became a Christian by accident or by the relaxing of sin. The embarrassments are all the time increasing. The hosts of darkness are recruiting, and the longer you postpone this matter the steeper the path will become. I ask those men who are before me now whether in the 10 or 13 years they have passed in the postponement of these matters they have come any nearer God or heaven? I would not be afraid to challenge this whole audience, so far as they may not have found the peace of the gospel, in regard to the matter. Your hearts, you are willing frankly to tell me, are becoming harder and harder, and that if you come to Christ it will be more of an undertaking now than it ever would have been before. The throne of judgment will soon be set, and if you have anything to do toward your eternal salvation you had better do it now, for the redemption of

your soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever.

Oh, if men could only catch one glimpse of Christ, I know they would love him! Your heart leaps at the sight of a glorious sunrise of sunset. Can you be without emotion as the Sun of Righteousness rises behind Calvary and sets behind Joseph's sepulcher? He is a blessed Saviour! Every nation has its type of beauty. There is a German beauty, and Swiss beauty, and Italian beauty and English beauty, but I care not in what land a man first looks at Christ [?] he pronounces him "chief among 10,000, and the one altogether lovely." The diamond districts of Brazil are carefully guarded, and a man does not get in there except by a pass from the government, but the love of Christ is a diamond district we may all enter and pick up treasures for eternity. "Today, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." Take the hint of the text that I have no time to dwell upon--the hint that there is a time when he cannot be found. There was a man in this city 80 years of age who said to a clergyman who came in, "Do you think that a man 80 years of age can get pardoned?" "Oh, yes," said the clergyman. The old man said: "I can't. When I was 20 years of age--I am now 80 years--the Spirit of God came to my soul, and I felt the importance of attending to these things, but I put it off. I rejected God, and since then I have had no feeling." "Well," said the minister, "wouldn't you like to have me pray with you?" "Yes," replied the old man, "but it will do no good. you can pray with me if you like to." The minister knelt down and prayed and commended the man's soul to God. It seemed to have no effect upon him. After awhile the last hour of the man's life came, and through his delirium a spark of intelligence seemed to flash, and with his last breath he said, "I shall never be forgiven." "Oh, see the Lord while he may be found!"

LOSS OF THE PRESIDENT. Strange Story of the Scuttling of a Great Steamship by Pirates. What a strange story is that communicated by the Duke of Newcastle to The Globe concerning the loss of the President! He says that a trustworthy informant in the United States assured him that a sailor, dying in an American port, had confessed to having formed one of the crew of a pirate vessel which captured the great steamship. "Every soul on board was made to walk the plank, and the ship was scuttled." The story seems incredible, yet it may be true, and the possibility of it gives one quite a shock. It is 50 years ago and more since the President disappeared from human sight, without, I believe, leaving a trace. The loss of no other vessel--for it was the first of the great passenger ships to go--has caused so great an excitement. How those at home clung to hope, some of them for years--for the notion of the crew being wrecked on some out of the way island was eagerly adopted--and how many a heart was broken by the intolerable suspense! At last it was generally concluded that the ship had collided with an iceberg and foundered. And now comes this terrible story, which, it is fortunate, was not conceived of when it would have had the power to make those at home more miserable. It is not to be forgotten, however, that more than one story has been recently written upon this subject--the capture and scuttling of a passenger steamer--and it seems more likely that they have suggested the idea being adapted to the loss of the President than that a solitary pirate should have revealed such a long kept secret of the seas.--London News.

THE OASES OF MARS. Interesting Possibilities Dependent Upon an Alleged Discovery. In Popular Astronomy, Percival Lowell of the Lowell observatory, Arizona, discusses the "oases" of Mars. He observed last summer that the canals slowly appeared in a way to indicate that they were seasonal and that round dark spots slowly developed after the canals and at their intersection. As time passed the spots deepened in color, leading to the conclusion that vegetation was concerned in the phenomenon. The same condition was noted in the canals themselves, indicating that vegetation along the banks caused them to be visible and to appear double.

In nearly very [sic] case the spots were circular and averaged about 120 miles in diameter. This circular form is an evidence to Mr. Lowell that the system is artificial, as he reasons that if the formation was natural the oases would be concave between the intersecting canals instead of convex. The contention is reasonable, and, taken in connection with the fact that in most cases more than two canals intersect at a single oasis, furnishes a good argument in favor of the theory that the canal system is artificial. His statement of the case is certainly very ingenious, if it is not conclusive. He says: "If one were to draw lines at haphazard over the surface of a globe, he would find that, although crossings of two lines would occur plentifully enough, crossings of more than two lines would occur practically never." He saw no less than nine canals centering or intersecting at one circular spot or oasis. In nearly all cases more than two lines by drawing lines at random on a blank sheet of paper. After the experiment has been tried the force of Mr. Lowell's reasoning will be evident. It is certainly the strongest presentation yet made in favor of the theory that the canals are artificial.

The arrangement by which several canals are made to intersect at one point would utilize to the best advantage the water annually flowing from one pole to the other over the desert of the equatorial regions as the snows about one pole melt. There must be a time when the flow of water in the canals nearly ceases. This must be when summer ends at one pole and winter is just beginning to give way to spring in the other. The seasons come and go so slowly that there are no floods, but merely a change in the direction of flow of water from one pole to the other across the equator. During the opposition of Mars last season the southern pole was presented to us, and when first observed the snow cap was of large dimensions. It melted under the heat of advancing summer, and as the water flowed northward through the

canals vegetation revived, and the lines and spots became visible in the telescope.

If the observations of Mr. Lowell are

accurate, he has gone a long way toward showing design in the canals and the round spots or cases. It will remain for astronomers to test the accuracy of his

seeing, keeping in view the explanation that has been advanced. There is a pos-

sibility that Mr. Lowell, aided by other observers, may demonstrate at the next opposition that Mars is inhabited.--Rochester Democrat and Chronicle.

THE BABY WOULDN'T CRY. How Edison Finally Secured a Record of His Firstborn's Woe. Here is a story they tell over the teacups in Orange, N. J., where Edison lives:

The phonograph came to the Edison laboratory and the first baby to the Edison home about the same time, and when the baby was old enough to say "Goo-goo" and pull the great inventor's hair in a most disrespectful manner, the phonograph was near enough perfection to capture the baby talk for preservation among the family archives. So Mr. Edison filled up several rolls with these pretty inarticulations and laid them carefully away. But this was not sufficient. The most picturesque thing about the baby's utterances was its crying, and the record of this its fond father determined to secure. How it would entertain him in his old age, he thought, to start the phonograph a-going and hear again the baby wails of his firstborn. So one afternoon Mr. Edison tore himself from his work and climbed the big hill leading to his house. He went in a great hurry, for he is a man who grudges every working moment from his labor. A workman followed at his heels carrying the only phonograph that at that time had been sufficiently completed to accomplish really good results. Reaching home and the nursery Mr. Edison started the phonograph and brought the baby in front of it. But the baby didn't cry. Mr. Edison tumbled the youngster about and rumpled its hair and did all sorts of things, but still the baby didn't cry. Then he made dreadful faces, but the baby thought they were very funny and crowed joyously. So back to the laboratory went Mr. Edison in a very unpleasant frame of mind, for the baby's untimely good humor had cost him an hour of work. The phonograph was also taken back.

But he did not give it up. The next afternoon he went home again, and the phonograph with him. But if the baby was good natured the day before this time it was absolutely cherubic. There was nothing at all that its father could do that did not make the baby laugh. Even the phonograph itself, with its tiny, whirring wheels, the baby thought was meant for its special entertainment and gurgled joyously. So back to work the inventor went again, with a temper positively ruffled. The next day and the next he tried it, but all to no purpose.

The baby would not cry, even when waked suddenly from sleep. But to battle Edison is only to inflame his determination, which, by the way, is one of the secrets of his success. So at length after much thought he made a mighty resolve. It took a vast amount of determination on his part to screw himself up to the point of committing the awful deed, but he succeeded at last and one morning, when he knew his wife was down town, he went quietly home with the phonograph and stole into the nursery, where the baby greeted him with customary glee. Starting the machine, Mr. Edison ordered the nurse to leave the room. Then he took the baby on his knee and bared its chubby little leg. He took the tender flesh between his thumb and finger, clinched his teeth, shut his eyes tight and made ready to--yes--actually to pinch the baby's leg. But just at the fateful moment the nurse stepped through the door, and perceiving the horrid plot flounced in and rescued the baby in the nick of time. Mr. Edison breathed a mighty sigh of relief as he gathered up the phonograph and went back to the laboratory. He then gave up the project of phonographing the baby's crying.

But not long afterward he accomplished his purpose, after all, and quite unexpectedly too. As soon as the baby was old enough to "take notice," its doting mother took it down to the laboratory one sunny d ay, and when the big machinery was started a-roaring the baby screwed up its face, opened its mouth and emitted a series of woeful screams that made Mr. Edison leap to his feet. "Stop the machinery and start the phonograph!" he shouted, and the record of his baby's crying was then and there accomplished.--New York Herald.

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LOW PRICES. Satisfaction Gauranteed. [sic]

Came High, but They Had Them. As the train containing the annual picnic of the Universal Association of Chicago Drummers rolled into the railroad station the man at the cigar counter coolly took all the "two for a quarter" signs off his stock and replaced them with ones reading "50 cents each." He put 50 cent signs also on his 5 cent cigars and likewise on his 10 cent cigars. With a look of innocence on his

face he awaited the rush.

"Holy smoke!" exclaimed the Chica-

go drummers. "Haven't you got any lower priced cigars than that?" "Not one," replied the cigar man.

"The New York drummers' convention passed up the road an hour ago. They knew you were coming, and they said they'd play a joke on you and leave you without anything to smoke, and they bought every cigar I had except the 50 cent ones. I told them that there wasn't much of a joke in it if they left those, because you'd buy 'em, and then they all looked at each other and burst out laughing. One of them said, 'Not much they won't.' Another said, 'I guess not,' and the rest swore that a Chicago drummer would drop dead if he smoked a 50 cent cigar."

"Certainly, gentlemen," spoke up the

dealer. "Easy, please. I can't serve you all at once. Yes, sir; how many? Take a box? Yes, sir. And you? One dozen? Never mind the change, did you say? All right. Don't push so, please. I'll

serve you all."

When they had departed, the cigar dealer looked complacently at his depleted case and observed: "I ought to know how to play on a Chicago man's feelings, oughtn't I? I am a Chicago man myself."--New York Herald.

Mystified by an Abbreviation.

Among the stories told about the experiences of police telegraph operators by the attaches of the electrical bureau is one which relates to an ex-special officer, who is now a regular operator at a substation up town. While acting as "sub" in a West Philadelphia district he received a call from the central, which he promptly wrote on his slate as he received it. At the close of the message he found that it read: "Send wagon to Phil. Ahosp and learn condition of Hen. Coop." He was completely stalled. He could not imagine who Phil. Ahosp was, nor where he was to be found, nor what particular hencoop the central was interested in. He felt that there was a mistake some-

where, but was satisfied that it must be

at the other end of the wire. As the hour was near relieving time, he decid-

ed to wait and consult his relief before

sending the wagon on a wild goose chase or asking the central to repeat. On the arrival of his relief he was informed that the operator who had sent

the message generally abbreviated his messages, and probably the one received

would read: "Send wagon to Philadelphia hospital and learn condition of Henry Cooper." This proved to be the proper solution.--Philadelphia Record.

He Mistrusted His Sex.

A Durham miner, aged 73, visited a Newcastle lawyer, a bachelor, for the purpose of making his will. The old man's property consisted of two small cottages, which had cost him £150, and

a little furniture.

The lawyer having asked his client how he wished to dispose of his prop-

erty, the latter replied:

"Ma auld woman hos to hev all so lang as she's ma widdow. Either that

ma bairns gets all."

"What age is your old woman?" asked the lawyer.

"Seventy-two," replied the miner.

"And how long have you and your wife been married?" asked the lawyer. "Over 50 years," replied the miner.

Thereupon the lawyer suggested to his client that he should give the wife the interest during her life, whether she continued a widow or otherwise.

"Hinney, I winnot. I'b sey me aan way," said the miner.

"But, surely," replied the lawyer, "you don't expect your old woman, now 72 years old, would marry again after your death?"

The miner, looking the lawyer full in the face, answered, with much solemnity: "Wey, hinney, ther's nae knaaing what young chaps like yourself will do for money."--London Tit-Bits.

Largest Regimental Loss. The largest regimental loss on either side during the late civil war was sustained by the Twenty-ninth North Caro-lina--Pettigrew's brigade, Heth's division. They had a full quota of 800 men on July 1, 1863, but in the single battle of Gettysburg lost 588 men, 60 killed and 502 wounded, not including the "missing," of which there were 120.

According to Colonel W. F. Fox, in one

company, 86 strong, every man was hit,

and the orderly who made out the list

did so while suffering from a wound in each leg. Surely those were times which not only "tried men's souls," but made

heroes of those who survived and martyrs of the dead.--St. Louis Republic.

The Financial Situation.

Long--Are you in favor of a gold basis? Short--Silver is good enough for me. Have you a spare quarter?--Detroit Free Press.

Poor Woodcock--Pour Soul!

Some years ago a woodcock, tired and weary with his long journey, fell exhausted down from midair right into the middle of London. Nearly all birds

migrate at night, so it was dark, as, half-stunned, he found himself lying in Albemaric street. A woodcock's first impulse is always to hide himself, to steal under something, to crouch down. In nature wild he would choose some bracken or some low shrub. Holly he particularly loves, and there he would nestle down and doze the hours away, but here, poor bird, in rural Piccadilly, he could find none of these, and so he finally nestled up to a lamppost, and, stunned and stupefied, he fell asleep and was so found by the early milkman on the next day.--Critic.

Capping It. Mr. Finlayson, town clerk of Stirling, was noted for the marvelous in conversation. He was on a visit to the Earl of Monteith and Airth, at his castle in Tara, on the loch of Monteith, and was about taking leave, when he was asked

by the earl whether he had seen the sailing cherry tree.

"No," said Finlayson. "What sort

of a thing is it?"

"It is," replied the earl, "a tree that has grown out of a goose's mouth from a stone the bird had swallowed, and which she bears about with her in voyages round the loch. It is just at present in full fruit of the most exquisite flavor. Now, Finlayson," he added, "can you, with all your power of memory and fancy, match the story of the

cherry tree?"

"Perhaps I can," said Finlayson,

clearing his throat, adding: "When

Oliver Cromwell was at Airth, one of the cannon sent a ball to Stirling and lodged it in the mouth of a trumpet which one of the troops in the castle

was in the act of sounding." "Was the trumpeter killed?" said the earl.

"No, my lord," said Finlayson. "He blew the ball back and killed the artilleryman who had fired it!"--Liverpool

Mercury.

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.

Josephine's Voice. Josephine's greatest attraction was her voice. Napoleon fell in love with it even before he really knew her. She could not sing, but her conversational tones were exceedingly well modulated and pleasing. She spoke with a strong provincial account, and it was once said that the emperor spoke an ItalianFrench patois and the empress a negro French.

A Unique Exhibit.

The Mexican village to be constructed at the Cotton States and International exposition will cover nearly three acres of ground and will cost many thousand dollars. It will be a characteristic and picturesque representation of Mexican life, comprising scenes between Yucatan and the Rio Grande, a representation of the San Jose mission, the Portales de Merced, copied from those on the Zoco-

co, City of Mexico. The gateway will

be 30 feet high and will be copied from the famous ruins of Palenque and

Axinel. A coffee plantation, on a small

scale, will be in operation, and the methods of gathering and curing the berries will be shown. There will be a Mexican theater, Mexican acrobats and all sorts of Mexican amusements. The village was planned by a gentleman who spent a long time in Mexico studying special features in the original so as to make the village thoroughly characteristic.

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.

W. L. DOUGLAS $3 SHOE

IS THE BEST. FIT FOR A KING.

$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.