VOL. XV. OCEAN CITY, N. J., THURSDAY, JUNE 27, 1895. NO. 13.

Ocean City Sentinel. PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT OCEAN CITY, N. J., BY R. C. ROBINSON, Editor and Proprietor. $1.00 per year, strictly in advance. $1.50 at end of year.

Physicians, Druggists, Etc. DR. J. S. WAGGONER, RESIDENT Physician and Druggist, NO. 731 ASBURY AVENUE, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Pure Drugs, Fine Stationery, Confectionery, Etc., constantly on hand.

Attorneys-at-Law.

MORGAN HAND, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW

Solicitor, Master and Examiner in Chancery, Supreme Court Commissioner, Notary Public, CAPE MAY C. H., N. J. (Opposite Public Buildings.)

LAW OFFICES SCHUYLER C. WOODRULL, 310 Market St., Camden, N. J.

THE FAIRY FIDDLER. 'Tis I go fiddling, fiddling By weedy ways forlorn. I make the blackbird's music Ere in his breast 'tis born. The sleeping larks I waken 'Twixt the midnight and the morn. No man alive has seen me, But women hear me play, Sometimes at door or window, Fiddling the souls away, The child's soul and the celleen's Out of the covering clay. --Nora Hon[?].

DR. J. E. PRYOR,

PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, Ocean City, N. J. Special attention given to diseases of the Nose and Throat, and of Children.

JONATHAN HAND, JR., Attorney-at-Law, SOLICITOR AND MASTER IN CHANCERY,

Notary Public, CAPE MAY COURT HOUSE, N. J. Office opposite Public Buildings. Will be in Ocean City every Wednesday at office on Eighth street near station.

T. C. HUTCHINSON, M. D., Homeopathist. Tenth St. and Asbury Ave., OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Resident Physician. Late of Phila.

HARRY S. DOUGLASS,

Counsellor-at-Law.

CAPE MAY COURT HOUSE, N. J.

DR. WALTER L. YERKES, DENTIST, Tuckahoe, N. J. Will be in Ocean City at 656 Asbury avenue every Tuesday.

Restaurants. MARSHALL's DINING ROOMS FOR LADIES AND GENTS. No. 1321 Market Street, Three Doors East of City Hall, PHILADELPHIA.

STRICTLY TEMPERANCE. MEALS TO ORDER FROM 6 A. M. TO 8 P. M.

Good Roast Dinners, with three Vegetables, for 25 cents. Turkey or Chicken Dinners, 35 cents. Ladies' Room up-stairs with home-like comforts. PURE SPRING WATER. OPEN ALL NIGHT.

EUGENE C. COLE,

Attorney-at-Law,

MASTER IN CHANCERY, NOTARY PUBLIC,

SEAVILLE, CAPE MAY CO., N. J. Will be in Ocean City on Friday of each week at the Mayor's office.

BAKERY,

601 South Twenty-second Street. Ice Cream, Ices, Frozen

Fruits and Jellies.

Weddings and Evening Entertainments a Specialty. Everything to furnish the table and set free of charge.

NOTHING SOLD OR DELIVERED ON SUNDAY.

Contractors and Builders. S. B. SAMPSON,

Contractor and Builder.

No. 305 Fourth St., Ocean City, N. J.

Jobbing promptly attended to. Plans, specifications and working drawings furnished.

C. E. EDWARDS. J. C. CURRY. DRS. EDWARDS & CURRY, DENTISTS, Room 12, Haseltine Building, Take Elevator. 1416 Chestnut St.,

Philadelphia, Pa.

Plasterers and Brick-Layers.

W. STONEHILL. G. O. ADAMS.

STONEHILL & ADAMS, Plastering, Range Setting, Brick Laying, &c.

All work in mason line promptly attended to. OCEAN CITY, N. J.

JOSEPH F. HAND, ARCHITECT,

CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER,

Ocean City, N. J.

Plans, Specifications and Working Drawings furnished. Estimates given on Application. Satisfaction guaranteed.

HARRY HEADLEY, OCEAN CITY HOUSE,

717 Asbury Avenue.

PLASTERING, BRICKLAYING. Ornamental Work of Every Description. All kinds of cementing work and masonry promptly attended to.

H. M. Sciple. J. M. Gillespie. H. P. Sayford. H. M. SCIPLE & CO., DEALERS IN Boilers and Engines, Every Size for Every Duty, DUPLEX STEAM PUMPS, Third and Arch Sts., PHILADELPHIA, PA.

Nicholas Corson,

CARPENTER AND BUILDER,

OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Plans and Specifications furnished. Buildings put up by contract or day.

G. P. MOORE, ARCHITECT, BUILDER, AND

PRACTICAL SLATER,

Ocean City, N. J.

Best Roofing Slate constantly on hand.

GEO. A. BOURGEOIS & SON,

Carpenters and Builders, OCEAN CITY, N. J. Estimates given. Buildings erected by contract or day.

WALLACE S. RISLEY, REAL ESTATE AND INSURANCE AGENT, 413 MARKET ST., CAMDEN.

Properties for sale and to rent. Money to loan on Mortgage.

LEANDER S. CORSON, ARCHITECT,

CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER, Ocean City, N. J. Plans and specifications furnished. Terms reasonable. First-class work.

PETER MURDOCH, DEALER IN COAL and WOOD, Ocean City, N. J. Orders left at 806 Asbury avenue will receive prompt attention.

D. S. SAMPSON, DEALER IN Stoves, Heaters, Ranges,

PUMPS, SINKS, &C.,

Cor. Fourth Street and West Avenue, OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Tin roofer and sheet-iron worker. All kinds of Stove Casting furnished at short notice. Gasoline Stoves a specialty. All work guaranteed as represented.

D. GALLAGHER, DEALER IN FINE FURNITURE, 43 South Second Street, PHILADELPHIA, PA.

THE LAY OF THE DUMB WAITER.

From Morning Till Evening It Interests New York Flat Dwellers.

The dumb waiter, like the feathered portion of that part of creation which

we are also pleased to designate "dumb," begins its lay before the dew is off the heather, so to speak. The milkman or

the baker causes it to emit its first faint blast. There are heard a rattling and creaking of ropes, a rackety slamming and banging along the sides of the shaft, as the dumb waiter is aroused from its perch near the sixteenth flat, and then the uproarious rush of the dumb creature descending toward the cellar. Next follows the sharp, insistent tinkle of the electric bell, and the dumb waiter has fairly started on its vociferous daily career. This overture is repeated, with variations, until all the dwellers in all the flats, from the oneth even unto the sixteenth, are served with their daily modicum of bread and milk from their daily contingent of bakers and milkmen. Next comes the electric bell again, followed by the strenuous voice of James, the elevator boy. "Coal!"

The creaking and banging and rattling performance is now varied. Pans and scuttles and boxes are severally hauled, cast, thrown and pitched upon the shelves of the waiter, and the groaning, clattering dumb thing travels loudly up and down until all the flats are served with their morning supply. At this point a different element enters into the dumb waiter's noisy work. There is a flirtation, with many tender passages--dumb waiter shaft passages--in progress between the elevator boy in the cellar and the cook in the twelfth story. A playful morning struggle between the twelfth floor coal scuttle and the ropes of the dumb waiter is one of

its manifestations. A gentle message floats down the shaft.

"Fill it good and full now, James.

It's for me!"

"And why should I fill it fuller for

you than for Maggie?"

At this Maggie, whose door on the eighth floor is always open, gives a shrill laugh at the discomfited rival on the twelfth.

Her triumph is short lived.

"Ah, Jimmy, now!"

"You know I'm foolin, Mollie! Let go the rope, there's a darlin. The second

is in a duce of a hurry!"

Perhaps Maggie is not the only one whose composure is disturbed at the byplay. One after another, the butcher, the grocer and the iceman arrive, and each

butcher and grocer and iceman is mul-

tiplied 16 times to suit the various tastes

of the flat dwellers.

Then there are the C. O. D. dry goods packages, whose bills cause animated discussions over the matter of change. There is the clinking of milk bottles sent down to the dairyman, and there are the dwelling differences of opinion between the dairyman and the cook, the cook being confident that the dairyman is trying to cheat her and the dairyman willing to take oath that the cook has taken or secreted at least two bottles since he was last there. All these domestic problems are wafted up and down the dumb waiter shaft, and are distinctly audible on each and every floor. The evening strains of the dumb waiter are but diversifications of the same theme. There are hurried deliveries of forgotten or suddenly needed butcher's or grocer's supplies. The portion of evening cream for the ninth floor invalid and milk for the seventh floor baby are slammed and thumped up to them. Numerous orders for breakfast are shouted down to departing trades people, and each floor becomes cognizant of what each other floor expects to eat at its matutinal meal. The last sweet words of Mollie and Jimmy are bawled up and down, and each floor breathes easier to hear that Jimmy has to leave hastily that he may be in readiness to meet Mollie "on the corner at half past 8 sharp." And then for some inscrutable reason, the dumb waiter is lustily hoisted up to the sixteenth floor, from which advantageous position it may thunder out its "dumb" protest in the morning.--New York World.

Old Samoan Ways. The Samoans are physically a splendidly made race of a deep bronze color. Their hair is naturally black, but is converted by frequent dressings of lime, which have a bleaching effect, to a dull reddish tint. This custom obtains both with the men and the women. Their arms and chests are specially well developed from their habit of paddling long distances in their canoes from island to island--in fact, at so great distances from the mainland were these natives as seen by early travelers, that this group was christened the Navigator islands. At this time, too, travelers reported that the Samoans wore fine black skeins reaching from the waist to a short distance above the knee. This report, though without foundation in fact, was due to the custom practiced by these people of tattooing themselves after that fashion, covering about the same part of the body as would a pair of our backing drawers. All the men are thus tattooed on arriving at maturity, and are not allowed to take unto themselves wives before the painful process is complete. Regular professional tattooers are found among the people, and the tattooing often occupies some months as the patient only undergoes as much as he can bear at each operation. The designs tattooed are very ancient, and the present generations are entirely ignorant of their signification. This latter fact applies also to the words of their rowing songs, which they sing in perfect harmony and in time to their oars and paddles; the words sung are now obsolete, and, like the tattooed designs, are not understood by the people.--Westminster Review.

STEELMAN & ENGLISH, Contractors AND Builders,

Ocean City, N. J.

Plans, specifications and working drawings furnished. Jobbing promptly attended to.

L. S. SMITH, CONTRACTORS IN Grading, Graveling and Curbing.

PAINTING BY CONTRACT OR DAY.

Eighth St. and Asbury Ave.,

OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Bakers, Grocers, Etc.

JACOB SCHUFF, (Successor to A. E. Mahan,) THE PIONEER BAKERY, No. 706 Asbury Avenue,

OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Fresh Bread, Pies and Cakes daily. Wedding Cakes a specialty. Orders delivered free of charge. Nothing delivered on Sunday.

McCLURE, HERITAGE & CO., Successors to Finnerty, McClure & Co., DRUGGISTS AND CHEMISTS 112 Market Street, Philadelphia. Dealers in Pure Drugs, Chemicals, Patent Medicines, Paints, Oils, etc.

J. L. HEADLEY,

CARPENTER AND JOB SHOP,

OCEAN CITY, N. J.

Job work promptly attended to. Turning, scroll sawing, windows and door frames, and all kinds of millwork. Furniture repaired.

Picture frames, Wheelwright shop attached.

Net screens a specialty. Residence, West below 12th St. Mill, corner 10th and West.

TREATMENT BY INHALATION! 1529 Arch St., Philad'a, Pa. For Consumption, Asthama, Bronchitis, Dyspepsia, Catarrh, Hay Fever, Headache, Debility, Rheumatism, Neuralgia, And all Chronic and Nervous Disorders. It has been in use for nearly a quarter of a century. Thousands of patients have been treated, and more than 1000 physicians have used it and recommended it. It is agreeable. There is no nauseous taste, nor aftertaste, nor sickening smell. We give below a few of the great number of testimonials which we are constantly receiving from those who have tried it, published with the express permission in writing of the patients.

"Please accept my sincere gratitude for the restored life of happiness and health and vigor and usefulness that the Compound Oxygen has certainly given me.

"While I was always considered a healthy child, I was known to be dyspeptic from babyhood. It was inherited. For two years I was confined almost constantly to the lounge. For more than four years I did not know a moment free from pain. All this time dyspepsia continued its ravages, except when temporarily relieved, and aggravated other serious disorders.

"My friends and physicians thought I would never recover. To-day I am entirely cured of dyspepsia, can enjoy articles of food that I never dared use before in all my life. For the past year I have been up and going in ease and health, with sufficient vigor to take some part in domes-

tic work of the most laborious nature. As my strength continues to improve, since leaving off Oxygen, I feel that I can conscientiously recommend the treatment, not only to cure (provided the doctors' directions are observed), but to be lasting in its beneficial effects.

"MISS JAMIE MAGRUDER, "Oak Hill, Florida."

"The Oxygen Treatment you sent me for C. O. Harris, a year ago, one of my missionaries from West Africa, whose life was in jeopardy on account of lung trouble and a severe cough, he now testifies has greatly benefited him. He has entirely recovered his health, married a wife, returned to his work in Africa, and taken his wife with him.

Bishop WILLIAM TAYLOR, 150 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y.

"Compound Oxygen.. Its Mode of Action and Results" is the title of a book of 200 pages published by Drs. Starkey & Palen, which gives to all inquirers full information as to this remarkable curative agent, and a record of surprising cures in a wide range of cases--

many of them after being abandoned to die by other physicians. Will be mailed free to any address on application.

Drs. STARKEY & PALEN, 1529 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. 120 Sutter St., San Francisco, Cal.

Please mention this paper.

Plumbers, Steam Fitters, Etc. J. T. BRYAN, Practical Plumber and Gas Fitter No. 1007 Ridge Ave., Philadelphia. Circulating Boilers, Sinks, Bath Tubs, Water

Closets, Lead and Iron Pipes, Pumps, Etc., furnished at short notice. Country or City Resi-

dences fitted up in the best manner. Sanitary Plumbing and drainage a specialty. Orders by mail promptly attended to.

SAMUEL SCHURCH, CITY Collector & Treasurer, NO. 701 ASBURY AVENUE. OFFICE HOURS--12 to 2; 6 to 8 p. m.

AN UNSIGNED WILL. The doctor opened the creaking wooden gate. It was half past 9 on a clear frosty winter night, and he was five miles from home, and could and hungry. "How is she?" he said to the gaunt, prim old woman who opened the door. "I don't know. Better see yourself. I'm no doctor," was the rough reply. The room was low and mean, but the woman who lay on the bed struggling with death had a coquettish air that clashed with her age. Perhaps it came from the real lace on her nightcap, perhaps from the valenciennes that encircled her shriveled brown throat, or maybe the golden fringe, which, too young for the shrunken face, gave it to her. "Amaryllis," said the surly woman, "here's the doctor."

The humble country practitioner stepped forward, and even in the dim lamplight could be seen the flannel cuffs, hiatus of gray stocking between old trousers and clumsy boots, frayed linen twofold collar, silver watch chain and greasy, ready made tie that betrayed the small local practice. "Amaryllis, wake up, wake up. Doctor's here. God knows you've called enough for him." The woman on the bed, whose name seemed a jest, opened her heavy, vague eyes, coughed faintly and groaned. "Is it Dr. Watson, Janet?" she asked. "Of course! There's none other for miles," was the testy reply.

Dr. Watson went through the orthodox farce of feeling pulse and taking temperature, but saw at a glance that she was at the last whirl in her dance of death. "Has she made her will?" he asked softly. However, Amaryllis caught the words, and in a cracked scream of excitement said: "That's it. That's it, doctor. I want to make a will. I can't die easy. Janet, get him pen and ink." "It's nonsense, doctor," said Janet. "Let her die in peace. She need make no will--she's no kith nor kin but me, her sister." "Put the pillow under my head, both pillows," called the patient. "I'm choking! Yes, that's it. Now, doctor, for God's mercy do what I ask--Janet will let me--or I can't die easy." Janet's face grew black with anger. "She's not fit to make a will, and I'm all she has in the world," said she. "Listen, listen, doctor! I'm in my mind; I can't die easy. It's short enough--£3,000 and the cottage to Janet, the rest to Charles Hartford, now on the training ship, the Monarch." The doctor took out a stylographic pen and picked up from the fender an old letter, on only one side of which there was writing. "Stop, stop!" said Janet. "She's mad. There's no such person. Ask her who he is." "God forgive me," groaned Amaryllis. "I'll die happier if some one knows I've been a wicked woman."

The doctor sprinkled some can do cologne on her head from a curious old silver bottle that stood on a chair by the bedside and gave her something to drink out of a medicine bottle. Then with desperate energy the old woman told her story, despite the efforts of death to

check her speech.

"Father and mother were cruel, good people, and I was a blithe young woman that hated church and psalms and dull Sunday books, so when he came, Frank Hartford, the handsome sailor, he had my heart for the asking. They would none of his addresses, for he wasn't a God fearing man, they said, so off we went with no blessing from parson, but a curse from father. It lasted for ten years well enough. I had a little house not in cold Norfolk, but here in this village, and he passed as my brother when on land, for he was most while at sea. However, the time came. I was older than he by some years and fretted for his absence--yes, and drank a bit--so he grew tired, but didn't break with me, was afraid to, I think--God knows why. Then her face caught him--Mary's, the coast guardsman's daughter. He kept it from me, but the village gossiped. He meant to marry her and cast me off. How I hated her, poor thing! I knew him well enough, handsome devil! He'd have married her because he thought no other way would do, and I vowed he should not marry her nor any but me, and me he wouldn't. I asked her to the house, and he courted her before my face and thought me a blind fool. "One night, his birthday, I had her to supper and got down from London some champagne. She was to stay the night, home was so far off and the weather rough. The little fool, the little arrogant fool, believed that the champagne--never before seen in our village--was only fine cider and drank

her share, and he was boisterous at the

jest. Then I went out on a pretext, saying I'd be back in an hour. The next

day she ran away with him. Confound her! I never saw him again."

At this point Amaryllis seemed to break down, but after dozing for a few minutes she continued in a faint voice: "He left her soon enough and went to sea, leaving her and the baby to shift as they might. Me he dropped after that night. We'd a fearful quarrel, for he guessed that I'd schemed it all. Five years later he wrote, said he had 'found God' and married a rich woman and wanted to make amends. He'd always kept me well enough, for his father left him £3,000 and this cottage--he'd settled it on me. He sent me £500 for her and her child and begged me to look after them. I did sure enough, for I still hated her. I found she was in London, so I sent her just enough to keep her going, for I wanted her to live the cruel life, which, as I expected, she had come to lead. Year by year he sent me money, till last year, when a letter came to say he was dead. I kept nearly all of the money, and when, two years ago, she died, I sent no more, but I had the child watched, and he's 'Charles Harford' on the Monarch. And, doctor, since I've been ill and seen the parson I feel I can't die without doing right, so make the will, for love o' God!" The doctor began to write. "Stop," said Janet, who during the tale had walked up and down like a wild beast. "It's all madness; she's delirious." The dying woman heard her words. "In the box under the bed you'll find all Frank's letters. They'll prove the story." In a few minutes Dr. Watson had finished the short will and read it to Amaryllis. Janet sat grimly on the black horsehair sofa and did not offer to raise her sister to sign. "Come, Miss Webster," he said impatiently, "one mustn't lose time." She did not move. "What about witnesses?" she asked. "I'll be one," he answered, "you"-- "Not me," she replied hastily, "that would make my legacy bad--I know that. Father was a lawyer." The doctor knew this was true and was at once vexed and perplexed. "To ease her"--he said. "It's no use," she broke in. "I'll not. Will she last three parts of an hour? I can get to Mr. Trelois, our nearest neighbor, in the time, and bring him." Dr. Watson looked at his patient. "Yes, perhaps an hour, but be quick." Janet put on an old black hat that looked like a bonnet flattened for country wear and a rough shawl of sham Shetland fleece, opened the door, letting in more of the cold air than was necessary, and went out, slamming it heavily. The doctor sat down by the bedside, then recollected he was hungry, and as Amaryllis did not answer his request rummaged in an unlocked cupboard and found some bread and cheese, which he ate ravenously, moistening it with some brandy that he found in a bottle by the bedside, despite his strict orders against alcohol in any form. He made up the fire and sat in front of it, longing to smoke, till its genial warmth crept gently through him and sleep overcame the poor man, who had walked give and twenty miles that day on his ill paid rounds.

The noise of the opening of the door awoke him, and, conscience stricken, he hastened to the bed. Amaryllis was still alive, but on the very limits of the borderland. There was still time. He turned to Janet.

"There's just life," he said. "Bring him in quickly." "He's not with me," she replied stolidly. "He was out." Dr. Watson looked at his watch. "It's two hours since you started, what"--

Janet gave a dreary smile. "They expected him every minute. I

waited. He was too drunk when he came in."

A bright idea came into the doctor's mind.

"Sign as witness," he said. "If the legacy is bad, it does not matter. You'll get it just the same as next of kin." "Do you think I didn't know that?" replied Janet, with a hoarse laugh. "Then you've never been to Mr. Trelois?" shouted the doctor. "You"--"I'm not such a fool," she answered grimly. "But, oh, it was cold in the garden!"

As she spoke she came close to the fire, which glowed impartially on her

rugged, dingy face.

"D-----!" said the doctor passionately. "I'll go by myself. It may not be too late."

He started up, and his chair fell. Amaryllis opened her empty eyes, then a look of intelligence came into her

ashen face. The doctor had nearly

reached the door, when in a tone half whisper, half shriek, she called out: "Doctor, don't leave me before it's made!" He turned, saw her sitting up, but as he moved toward her she fell back, and the nightcap came off, showing the scanty gray hair to which the golden

fringe was fastened.

"Too late," said the doctor, feeling for the beating of the heart. "Too late; you"--"I'm an honest woman," answered Janet, "and I've no sympathy with other people's by blows."--Exchange.

A Campfire of Fossil Wood. Our fire was made of fossil wood gathered on the beach. This wood is found scattered or in wave washed windrows all about the bay where the shores are low enough for it to rest. It also occurs in abundance in many of the ravines and gorges, and in roughly stratified beds of moraine material, some of which are more than 1,000 feet in thickness. The

bed rocks on which these deposits rest are scored and polished by glacial action, like all the rocks hereabouts up to at least 3,000 feet above the sea. The timber is mostly in the form of broken trunks of Merten, Paton and Menzies spruce, the largest sections being 20 to 30 feet long, and from 1 to 3 feet in diameter, some of them with the bark

on, sound and tough.

It appears therefore that these shores were, a century or so ago, as generously forested as those of the adjacent bays and inlets are today; though, strange to say, not one tree is left standing, with the exception of a few on mountain tops near the mouth of the bay and on the east side of the Muir glacier. How this deforestment was effected I have not the space to tell here. I will only say that all I have seen goes to show that the moraine soil on which the forests were growing was held in place on the steep mountain slopes by the grand trunk glacier that recently filled the entire

bay as its channel, and that when it melted the soil and forests were sloughed off together.--"The Discovery of Glacier Bay," by John Muir in The Century.

Realistic. Critic--Has that painting of yours,

"At Work in the Fields," received any favorable comments?

Artist--A rather seedy looking man stopped to look at it today, and he said it made him tired.--Philadelphia Record.

Convoying Merchantmen.

Marryat has given us a vivid picture of the troubles of convoying in those days, and has described to us the protecting frigate sailing round and round her troublesome charge, and actually firing into them to make them keep up. "Figure," says Mr. Russell--"figure 70

or 80 sail of ships, many of them heavy,

round bowed old merchantmen, so shaped in beam and length that they might have been built by the league and sawn off as customers required them. A dozen ships at a time would be lagging; the naval officer in command would signal them, but to no purpose; the sour old

merchant skipper, wrapped up in pilot cloth, eyed the epaulet askant and sulkily went to work to give as much trouble as possible.

No less a man from Cochrane once started from Halifax with a large convoy, and arrived at Plymouth with a single vessel, and that vessel in tow. Collingwood, on this shorter voyage, records with relief that he has got his convoy safe off his hands, though at the cost of great exertion. "I seldom slept more than two hours at a time all the way out, and took such true care of my charge that not one was missing. All the masters came on board my ship to thank me for my care and attention to their safety."--Macmillan's Magazine.

A Playground Made a Lake. One of the features of the Berlin Industrial exposition of next year will be the beauty of the grounds. One of the most interesting changes now taking

place is the transformation of the great playgrounds in Treptow park into a

lake. About 48,000 cubic meters of earth will have to be removed, and workmen are now engaged in building the embankment. A promenade, shaded by four rows of plantain trees, already encircles the proposed lake. Powerful engines will supply the water, which will fall in great cascades into the lake and then flow into the river Spree. Gondolas will ply in the basin and the neighboring waterways. Artistic restaurants and music halls will border the boulevard, the whole making a scene which, it is expected, will rival in beauty anything ever offered for public

enjoyment at any World's fair.

One curious feature of this improvement is found in the fact that Treptow park must be restored to its original condition when the exposition is over.

In order to do this 24,000 square meters of sod must be stored, and the contract-

ors find difficulty in obtaining a place to

put it.--New York Times.

Henceforth Jo-li-et Forever.

It is impossible to withhold admiration of the courage and devotion displayed by the common council of Joliet in declaring, with official solemnity, that the correct pronunciation of that name is Jo-li-et, with a long "o." Passing an ordinance to that effect was like bravely holding up a twinkling little light of truth over a vast rolling, engulfing tide of error. The light will by no means stay the tide, but the light will be a notice to the curious that Joliet's sense of self respect, though submerged in error,

exists. As well try to eliminate "pants" at this day as to attempt an eradication

of the Jolly-et heresy. In 1859 the man who in that year made all the negro minstrel jokes and died constructed a joke about going to prison and being Jolly-yet. The joke was launched, and for 36 years it has done its fatal work. Men now aged chuckled at it in their

prime, and middle aged men remember

giggling over it in their youth. If the city council can make a joke on Jo-li-et and get the stage to take it up, it may

turn the tide, for every joke, good or bad, lives forever.--Chicago News.