Ocean City Sentinel, 23 May 1895 IIIF issue link — Page 4

FLAGGING AND CURBING.

BEST QUALITY OF

Pennsylvania and North River BLUE STONE PAVEMENTS artistically laid by expert workmen and guaranteed perfect in every particular. Stone Curbing, thick and deep to hold its grip. Over 30,000 feet sold in first year. Hitching Posts, Carriage Stones, Stone Steps, etc., in great variety. Lowest prices and best terms. ROBERT FISHER, Agent, Ocean City.

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.

OCEAN CITY REAL ESTATE EXCHANGE.

W. E. MASSEY & CO.,

Real Estate and Insurance Agents. Lots for sale or exchange. Houses to rent. Deeds, bonds, or mortgages drawn. Loans negotiated. A number of bargains in lots. W. E. MASSRY & CO., 811 Asbury Ave., Ocean City, N. J. Next to the Post-office. P. O. Box, 335.

STONE PAVEMENT. Best quality of New York and Pennsylvania BLUE STONE FLAGGING. Also, 12 and 16 inch Curbing. Orders solicited. Work guaranteed. Lowest price.

John McAleese, 1409 Asbury Ave., Ocean City. Successor to H. GERLACH.

THE WONDROUS HAND. REV. T. DE WITT TALMAGE IN THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT. Christ Was Divine and Also Very Human. The Religion of Some Christians Is All Wing--Good Wrought In Cities--The Toilers' Everlasting Rest. NEW YORK, May 19. Rev. Dr. Talmage's sermon in the Academy of Music this afternoon was a powerful and eloquent plea for practical Christianity. The subject, as announced, was, "Wing and Hand," the text being Ezekiel x; 21, "The likeness of the hands of a man was under their wings." While tossed on the sea between Australia and Ceylon I first particularly noticed this text, of which then and there I made memorandum. This chapter is all aflutter with cherubim. Who are the cherubim? An order of angels radiant, mighty, all-knowing, adoring, worshipful. When painter or sculptor tried in temple at Jerusalem or in marble of Egypt to represent the cherubim he made them part lion or part ox or part eagle. But much of that is an unintended burlesque of the cherubim whose majesty and speed and splendor we will never know until lifted into their presence we behold them for ourselves, as I pray by the pardoning grace of God we all may. But all the accounts Biblical and all the suppositions human represent the cherubim with wings, each wing about seven feet long, vaster, more imposing than any plumage that ever floated in earthly atmosphere. Condor in flight above Chimborazo, or Rocky mountain eagle aiming for the noonday sun, or albatross in play with ocean tempests, presents no such glory. We can get an imperfect idea of the wing of cherubim by the only wing we see--the bird's pinion--which is the arm of the bird; but in some respects more wondrous than the human arm; with power of making itself more light or more heavy, of expansion and contraction; defying all altitudes and all abysms; the bird looking down with pity upon boasting man as he toils up the sides of the Adirondacks, while the wing with a few strokes puts the highest crags far beneath claw and beak. But the bird's wing is only a feeble suggestion of cherubim's wing. The greatness of that, the rapidity of that, the radiance of that, the Bible again and again sets forth. The Wing of Inspiration. My attention is not more attracted by those wings than by what they reveal when lifted. In two places in Ezekiel we are told there were hands under the wings--human hands, hands like ours, "The likeness of the hands of a man was under the wings." We have all noticed the wing of the cherubim, but no one seems yet to have noticed the [?] man hand under the wing. There are whole sermons, whole anthems, whole doxologies, whole millenniums in that combination of hand and wing. If this world is ever brought to God, it will be by appreciation of the fact that supernatural and human agencies are to go together--that which soars and that which practically works, that which ascends the heavens and that which reaches forth to earth, the joining of the terrestrial and the celestial, the hand and the wing.

We see this union in the construction of the Bible. The wing of inspiration is in every chapter. What realms of the ransomed earth did Isaiah fly over!

Over what battlefields for righteousness, what coronations, what dominions of gladness, what rainbows around the throne did St. John hover! But in every book of the Bible you just as certainly see the human hand that wrote it. Moses, the lawyer, showing his hand in the Ten Commandments, the foundation of all good legislation; Amos, the herdsman, showing his hand in similes drawn from fields and flocks; the fishermen apostles showing their hand when writing about Gospel nets; Luke, the physician, showing his hand by giving especial attention to diseases cured; Paul showing his scholarly hand by quoting from heathen poets, and making arguments about the resurrection that stand as firmly as on the day he planted them, and St. John shows his hand by taking his imagery from the appearance of the bright waters spread around the island of Patmos at hour of sunset, when he speaks of the sea of glass mingled with fire; scores of hands writing the parables, the miracles, the promises, the hosannas, the raptures, the consolations, the woes of ages. Oh, the Bible is so human, so full of heartbeats, so sympathetic, so wet with tears, so triumphant with palm branches, that it takes hold of the human race as nothing else ever can take hold of it, each writer in his own style--Job, the scientific; Solomon, the royal blooded; Jeremiah, the despondent; Daniel, the abstemious and heroic--why, we know their style so well that we need not look to the top of the page to see who is the author. No more conspicuous the uplifting wing of inspiration than the hand, the warm hand, the flexible hand, the skillful hand of human instrumentality. "The likeness of the hands of a man was under the wings." The Speed of Prayer. Again, behold this combination of my text in all successful Christian work. We stand or kneel in our pulpits and social meetings and reformatory associations offering prayer. Now, if anything has wings, it is prayer. It can fly farther and faster than anything I can now think of. In one second of time from where you sit it can fly to the throne of God and alight in England. In one second of time from where you sit it can fly to the throne of God and alight in India. It can girdle the earth in a shorter time than you can seal a letter, or clasp a belt, or hook an eye. Wings, whether that prayer starts from an infant's tongue or the trembling lip of a centenarian, rising from the heart of a farmer's wife standing at the dashing churn, or before the hot breath of a country oven, they sear away and pick out of all the shipping of the earth on all the [?] craft on which her sailor boy is voyaging. Yea, prayer can fly clear down into the future. When the father of Queen Victoria was dying, he asked that the infant Victoria might be brought while he sat up in bed, and the babe was brought, and the father prayed, "If this child should live to become queen of England, may she rule in the fear of God!" Having ended his prayer, he said, "Take the child away." But all who know the history of England for the last 50 years know that the prayer for that infant more than 70 years ago has been answered, and with what emphasis and affection millions of the queen's subject have this day in chapels and cathedral, on land and sea, supplicated, "God save the queen!" Prayer flies not only across continents, but across centuries. If prayer had only feet, it might run here and there and do wonders. But it has wings, and they are as radiant of plume and as swift to rise or swoop or dart or circle as the cherubim's wings which swept through Ezekiel's vision. But, oh, my friends, the prayer must have the hand under the wing or it may amount to nothing. The mother's hand, or the father's hand, must write to the wayward boy as soon as you can hear how to address him. Christian souls must contribute to the evangelism of that faroff land for which they have been praying. Stop singing "Fly abroad, thou mighty gospel," unless you are willing to give something of your own means to make it fly. Have you been praying for the salvation of a young man's soul? That is right, but also extend the hand of invitation to come to a religious meeting. Useless Christian Hands. It always excites our sympathy to see a man with his hand in a sling. We ask him: "What is the matter? Hope it is not a felon;" or, "Have your fingers been crushed?" But nine out of ten of all Christians are going their life long with their hands in a sling. They have been hurt by the indifference or wrong ideas of what is best, or it is injured of conventionalities, and they never put forth that hand to lift or help or rescue any one. They pray, and their prayer has wings, but there is no hand under the wings. From the very structure of the hand we might make up our mind as to some of the things it was made for--to hold fast, to lift, to push, to pull, to help and to rescue. And endowed with two hands, we might take the broad hint that for others as well as for ourselves we were to hold fast, to lift, to push, to pull, to help, to rescue. Wondrous hand! You know something of the "Bridgewater Treasures." When Rev. Francis Henry Bridgewater in his will left $10,000 for essays on "The Power, Wisdom and Goodness of God, as Manifested in the Creation," and Davies Gilbert, the president of the Royal society, chose eight persons to write eight books, Sir Charles Bell, the scientist, chose as the subject of his great book, "The Hand: Its Mechanism and Vital Endowments as Evincing Design." Oh, the hand! Its machinery beginning at the shoulder, and working through shafts of bone, upper arm and forearm, down to the eight bones of the wrist, and the five bones of the palm, and the fourteen bones of the fingers and thumb, and composed of a labyrinth of muscle and flesh, which no one but Almighty God could have planned or executed. But how suggestive when it reached down to us from under the wings of the cherubim! "The likeness of the hands of a man was under the wings."

Christ's Uplifting Divinity. This idea is combined in Christ. When he rose from Mount Oliver, he took wing. All up and down his life you see the up-

lifting divinity. It glowed in his forehead. It flashed in his eyes. Its cadences were heard in his voice. But he was also very human. It was the hand under the wing that touched the woes

of the world and took hold of the sympathies of the centuries. Watch this hand before it was spiked. There was a dead girl in a governor's house, and Christ comes into the room and takes her pale, cold hand into his warm grasp, and she opens her eyes on the weeping household and says, "Father, what are you crying about? Mother, what are you crying about?" The book says, "He took her by the hand, and the maid arose." A follower, angered at an insult offered Christ, drew the sword from sheath and struck at a man with the sharp edges, aiming, I think, at his forehead. But the weapon glanced aside and took off the right ear at its roots. Christ with his hand reconstructed that wonderful organ of sound, that whispering [?] of the soul, that collector of vibrations, that arched way to the auditory nerve, that tunnel without which all the musical instruments of earth would be of no avail. The book says, "He touched his ear and healed him."

Meeting a full grown man who had never seen a sunrise, or a sunset, or a flower, or the face of his own father or mother, Christ moistens the dust from his own tongue and stirs the dust into an eye salve, and with his own hands applies the strange medicament, and suddenly all the colors of earth and sky rush in upon the newly created optic nerve, and the instantaneous noon drove out the long night. When he sees the grief of Mary and Martha he sits down and cries with them. Some say it is the shortest verse in the Bible, but to me it seems because of its far reaching sympathies about the largest--"Jesus wept!" So very human. He could not stand the sight of dropsy or epilepsy or paralysis or hunger or dementia, but he stretches out his sympathetic hand toward it. So very, very human. Omnipotent and majestic and glorious, this angel of the new covenant, with wings capable of encircling a universe, and yet hands of gentleness, hands of helpfulness, "The hands of a man under the wings." There is a kind of religion in our day that my text rebukes. There are men and women spending their time in delectation over their saved state going about from prayer meeting to prayer meeting, and from church to church, [?] how happy they are. But show them a subscription paper, or ask them to go and visit the sick, or tell them to reclaim a wanderer, or speak out for some unpopular Christian enterprise, and they have bronchitis or stitch in the side or sudden attack of grip. Their religion is all wing and no hand. They can fly heavenward, but they cannot reach out earthward. Lifting the Burden. While Thomas Chalmers occupied the chair of moral philosophy in St. Andrew's university he had at the same time a Sabbath school class of poor boys down in the slums of Edinburgh. While Lord Fitzgerald was traveling in Canada he saw a poor Indian squaw carrying a brushing load, and he took the burden on his own shoulders. That was Christlike. That was "a hand under the wing." The highest type of religion says little about itself, but is busy for God and in helping to the heavenly shore the crew and passengers of this shipwrecked planet. Such people are busy now up the dark lanes of this city, and all through the mountain glens, and down in the quarries where the sunlight has never visited, and amid the rigging, helping to take in another reef before the Caribbean whirlwind. A friend was telling me of an exquisite thing about Seattle, then of Washington territory, now of Washington state. The people of Seattle had raised a generous sum of money for the Johnstown sufferers from the flood. A few days after Seattle was destroyed by fire. I saw it while the whole city was living in tents. In a public meeting some one proposed that the money raised for Johnstown be used for the relief of their own city, and the cry was No! No! No! Send the money to Johnstown, and by acclamation of the money was so sent. Nothing more beautiful or sublime than that. Under the wing of fire that smote Seattle the sympathetic hand, the helping hand, the mighty hand of Christian relief for people thousands of miles away. Why, there are 100,000 men and women whose one business is to help others. Helping hands, inspiring hands, lifting hands, emancipating hands, saving hands. Sure enough, those people had wings of faith and wings of prayer and wings of consolation, but "the likeness of the hands of a man was under the wings." There was much sense in that which the robust boatman said when three were in a boat off the coast in a sudden storm that threatened to sink the boat, and one suggested that they all kneel down in the boat to pray, and the robust man took hold of the oar and began to pull, saying, "Let you, the strong, stout fellow, lay hold the other oar, and let the weak one who cannot pull give himself up to prayer." Pray by all means, but at the same time pull with all your might for the world's rescue. An arctic traveler hunting beaver while the ice was breaking up, and supposing that there was no human being within 100 miles, heard the ice crackle, and lo! a lost man, insane with hunger and cold, was wading in the ice water. The explorer took the man into his canoe and made for land, and the people gathered on the shore. All the islanders had been looking for the lost man, and finding him, according to the prearrangement all the bells rang, and all the guns fired. Oh, you can make a gladder time among the towers and hilltops of heaven if you can fetch home a wanderer! The Other Side of the Story. In our time it is the habit to denounce the cities and to speak of them as the perdition of all wickedness. Is it not time for some one to tell the other side of the story and to say that the city is the heaven of practical helpfulness? Look at the embowered and fountained parks, where the invalids may come and be refreshed; the Bowery mission, through which annually over 100,000 come to get bread for this life and bread for the life to come, all the pillows of the institution under the pillow of him who had not where to lay his head; the free schools, where the most impoverished are educated; the hospitals for broken bones; the homes for the restoration of intellects astray; the Orphan House ,father and mother to all who come under its benediction; the midnight missions, which pour midnoon upon the darkened; the Prison Reform association; the houses of mercy; the infirmaries; the sheltering arms; the aid societies; the industrial schools; the Sailors' Snug Harbor; the founding asylums; the free dispensaries, where greatest scientific skill feels the pulse of wan pauper; the ambulance, the starting stroke of its bell clearing the way to the place of casualty, and good souls like the mother who came to the Howard mission, with its crowd of friendless boys picked up from the streets, and saying, "If you have a crippled boy, give him to me; my dear boy died with the spinal complaint," and such a one she found and took him home and nursed him till he was well. It would take a sermon three weeks long to do justice to the mighty things which our cities are doing for the unfortunate and the lost. Do not say that Christianity in our cities is all show and talk and genuflexion and sacred noise. You have been so long looking at the hand of cruelty, and the hand of theft, and the hand of fraud, and the hand of outrage, that you have not sufficiently appreciated the hand of help stretched forth from the doors and windows of churches and from merciful institutions, the Christlike hand, the cherubic hand, "The hand under the wing." When the Day of Reward Cometh. There is also in my subject the suggestion of rewarded work for God and righteousness. When the wing went the hand went. When the wing ascended the hand ascended.; and for every useful and Christian hand there will be elevation celestial and eternal. Expect no human gratitude, for it will not come. That was a wise thing Fenelon wrote to his friend: "I am very glad, my dear, good fellow, that you are pleased with one of my letters which ahs been shown to you. You are right in saying and believing that I ask little of men in general. I try to do much for them and to expect nothing in return. I find a decided advantage in these terms. On these terms I defy them to disappoint me." But, my hearers, the day cometh when your work, which perhaps no one has noticed or rewarded or honored, will rise to heavenly recognition. While I have been telling you that the hand was under the wing of the cherubim I want you to realize that the wing was over the hand. Perhaps reward may not come to you right away. Washington lost more battles than he won, but he triumphed at the last. Walter Scott, in boyhood, was called "the Greek blockhead," but what height of renown did he not afterward tread? Rest For the Toiling. And I promise you victory farther on and higher up, if not in this world, then in the next. Oh, the heavenly day when your lifted hand shall be gloved with what honors, its finger enringed with what jewels, its wrist clasped with what splendors! Come up and take it, you Christian woman, who served at the washtub! Come up and take it, you Christian shoemaker, who pounded the shoe last! Come up and take it, you professional nurse, whose compensation never fully paid for broken nights and the whims and struggles of delirious sicknesses! Come up and take it, you firemen, besweated, far down amid the greasy machinery of ocean steamers, and ye conductors and engineers on railroads, that knew no Sunday, and whose ringing bells and loud whistle never warned off your own anxieties! Come up and take it, you mothers, who rocked and lullabied the family brood until they took wing for other nests and never appreciated what you had done and suffered for them. Your hand was well favored when you were young, and it was a beautiful hand, so well rounded, so graceful that many admired and eulogized it, but hard work calloused it and twisted it, and self sacrificing toil for others paled it, and many household griefs thinned it, and the ring which went on only with a push at the marriage altar now is too large and falls off, and again and again you have lost it. Poor hand! Weary hand! Wornout hand! But God will reconstruct it, reanimate it, readorn it, and all heaven will know the story of that hand. What fallen ones it lifted up! What tears it wiped away! What wounds it bandaged! What lighthouses it kindled! What storm tossed ships it brought into the pearl beached harbor! Oh, I am so glad that in the vision of my text Ezekiel saw the wing above the hand. Roll on that everlasting rest for all the toiling and misunderstood and suffering and weary children of God, and know right well that to join your hand, at last emancipated from the struggle, will be the soft hand, the gentle hand, the triumphant hand, of him who wipeth away all tears from all faces. That will be the palace of the king of which the poet sang in somewhat Scotch dialect: It's a bonnie, bonnie warl that we're livin in the noo, An sunny is the lan we aften travel thro', But in vain we look for something to which our hearts can cling, For its beauty is as naething to the palace o' the King. We see our frien's await us ower yonder at his gate. Then let us a' be ready, for, ye ken, it's gettin late. Let our lamps be brightly burnin; let's raise our voice and sing. Soon we'll meet, to part nae mair, i' the palace of the King.

ROBERT FISHER, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE. All kinds of real estate bought, sold and exchanged. Properties on hand in all desirable locations. If you have anything to dispose of at a bargain come

to me, and if you want a bargain I can suit you. Insurance written in Best Home and Foreign Companies.

Renting time is at hand. If you want a summer home, write me for catalogue and price list. Free carriage services for proposing investors.

OFFICE: SEVENTH STREET AND ASBURY AVENUE.

ON THE SCRAPBOOK PLAN. Evangelist Moody Makes Up His Sermons From All Sorts of Material.

Moody's method of sermon making its original, says McClure's Magazine. In reality his sermons are never made--they are always still in the making. Suppose the subject is "Paul." He takes a monstrous envelope, capable of holding some hundreds of slips of paper, labels it "Paul," and slowly stocks it with original notes, cuttings from papers, extracts from books, illustrations, scraps of all kinds, nearly or remotely referring to the subject. After

accumulating these, it may be for years,

he wades through the mass, selects a number of the most striking points, ar-

ranges them and finally makes a few jottings in a large hand, and these he

carries with him to the platform. The process of looking through the whole envelope is repeated each time the sermon is preached.

Partly on this account and partly because [?] very he forgets some points or disproportionately amplifies others,

no two sermons are ever exactly the same. By this method also--a matter of much more importance--the delivery is always fresh to himself. Thus, to make this clearer, suppose that after a thorough sifting 100 eligible points remain in the envelope. Every time the sermon is preached these hundred are overhauled. But no single sermon, by a mere limitation of time, can contain,

say, more than 70.

Hence, though the general scheme is the same, there is always novelty in the arrangement, for the particular 70 vary with each time of delivery. No greater mistake could be made than to imagine that Mr. Moody does not study for his sermons. On the contrary, he is always studying. When in the evangelistic field, the batch of envelopes, bursting with fatness, appears the moment breakfast is over, and the stranger who enters at almost any time of day, except at the hours of platform work, will find him with his litter of notes, either stuffing himself or his portfolios with new points he has picked up through the day. His search for these "points," and especially for light upon texts, Bible ideas or characters is ceaseless.

THE WHITE HOUSE,

H. H. BODINE,

REAL ESTATE BROKER AND CONVEYANCER,

Asbury Avenue, above Seventh, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Properties bought, sold, exchanged and rented.

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]

E. B. LAKE,

Superintendent of

OCEAN CITY ASSOCIATION

From its organization, and also

REAL ESTATE AGENT.

Has thousands of Building Lots for sale at various prices. Some very Cheap and located in all parts of Ocean City.

Now is the time to purchase property before the second railroad comes, as then property will greatly advance.

I have a good many Inquiries for Property between 6th and 12th streets.

Anyone having property for sale might do well to give me their prices. All persons desiring to Buy, or Sell, or Exchange property, would do well before closing any transaction to call on or address E. B. LAKE, Association Office, No. 601 Asbury Avenue, Ocean City, N. J.

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.

THE DECLINE OF WAR. Pursuit of Property and Wealth the Main Cause Thereof. The warlike temperament of man has been one of his most prominent characteristics from the earliest times. To live to fight has been the chief aim of most primitive peoples and has been a leading occupation of all civilized ones.

Armies have grown in size, weapons have multiplied in number and destructiveness, battles have grown more and more deadly in action, while also be-

coming more merciful in their accompaniments, but still it is everywhere

apparent that, in spite of these aids to carnage, the military spirit is on the

decline.

May we not look for the cause of this in the enormously increased cost of warfare and its interference with the pur-

suit of prosperity and wealth? When the internal losses to a people become greater than those they can gain through conquest and annexation, they will be very loath to enter into a great conflict. I am very far from saying that many other causes, such as ethics and a growing spirit of mercy, may not have contributed to this pacification of the na-

tions, but is it not true that the cost of war is the chief preventive of war? If so, does it not illustrate the rule that the reactions set up by the vast technical improvement of methods of destruction have reacted on the primitive cause of

the destruction--viz, the human will--and have lessened the cause by modifying the heart and brain of man?--Pop-

ular Science Monthly.

R. B. CORSON,

FUNERAL DIRECTOR, WASHINGTON VANGILDER, Manager.

MILLVILLE, N. J. Petersburg, N. J.

John Bright and Milton. Mr. John Bright once quoted the lines from Milton: I argue not Against heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. The reporter was not familiar with the passage, and having no idea that Mr. Bright was quoting poetry he turned it into prose, in the third person, as follows: "He would not argue against the hand or will of heaven, nor would he bate a jot of heart or hope. He would still bear up and steer right onward."--Macmillan's Magazine.

Note the Cut in Prices of SPRING AND SUMMER CLOTHING,

At M MENDEL'S

1625 ATLANTIC AVENUE, ATLANTIC CITY, N. J.

The Tariff Bill which lately became a law has knocked the bottom out of

prices, and the purchaser can now secure reliable goods at our house at ruinously low figures. Investigate for yourselves.

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.

Yet They Were Not Inflammable. Farmer--You had a fire at the manse this morning. Any serious loss? Minister--Yes; ten years' sermons were completely burned. Farmer (with the memory of many a weary Sunday morning)--Faith, but they made a gran' blaze--they were so dry, ye ken!--London Tit-Bits.

C. B. COLES & SONS COMPANY, Wholesale and Retail Dealers in LUMBER and MILL WORK. Largest stock of White and Yellow Pine, Poplar, Cypress, Chestnut; Oak and other hard woods a specialty. Odd or Hard Wood Mill Work and office fixtures

a specialty.

FRONT, BELOW KAIGHN AVE.,

CAMDEN, NEW JERSEY. Telephone No. 42

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.