'“r
’ .'
CWEsKLY.-..N O.‘R,W.A,LK .- GAZETTE.
lKE ‘WALTON’S PRAYER.
l crave, dear Lord,
N o boundless hoard
0f gold and gear,
Nor jewels fine,
Nor lands, nor kine,
Nor treasure heaps of anything-
L-et but a little but be mine '
Where at the hearthstone I may hear
' The cricket sing,
And have the shine
- 0f one glad woman’s eyes to make.
For my poor sake, -
Our simple home a place divine;
Just the Wee cot—the cricket’s chirr—
Love, and the Smiling face of her.
I pray not for'
Great riches, nor
For vast estates, and castle halls—
Give me to hear the bare foot-falls
0f children o’er
An oaken floor,
New-rinsed with sunshine. or bespread
With but the tiny coverlet
And pillow for the baby‘she ad;
And pray Thou, may
The door stand open and the day
Send ever in a gentle brecZe
With fragrance from the locust trees.
And drowsy mean of doves, and blur
Of robin-chirps and drone of bees,
With after-hushes of the stir
Of intermingling sounds, and then
The good wife and the smile of her , -
Filling the silence again—
The cricket’s call
And the wee cot.
Dear Lord of all,
Deny me not!
I pray not that
Men tremble at
My power of place
And lordly sway—-
, I only pray for simple grace
To look my neighbor in the face
Full honestly from day to day—-
Yield me his horny palm to hold ..
And I’ll not pray
For gold—
The tanned face, garlanded with mirth.
It hath the kingliest smile on earth—
The swart brow, diamonded with sweat.
And so I reach,
Dear Lord, to thee,
And do beseech
Thou givest me
The wee cot, and the cricket’s chirr,
Love, and the glad sweet face of her!
-—James Whitcomb Riley.
A RACE FOR A CLAIM.
Lelia Staun'ton was strong, capable
and decisive. She had a good, all-
around education, but not quite thor-
ough enough at any point to fit her for
a teacher; so when the small income of
her mother dwindled down to less than
an 'actual living, Miss Lelia began to
cast about for ways and means to re-
plenish it.
But Little Compton offered few op-
portunities, especially to girls, and
presently Miss Lelia—everybody called
her that—extended the horizon of in-
quiry to the world outside. There were
only her mother and herself at home,
so naturally her first thoughts went to
those sections of the world which con-
tained her brothers and sisters. Tom,
the oldest, was mate of a Clyde steam-
er, and he was promptly dismissed as
useless; then came Charlie, who wasa
lieutenant of cavalry in Arizona, and
he also was useless; and after them
came Will, who was railroading; and
Jack, who was merchandising; and
, Alice—why, certainly! Alice was the
very one. She had married an orange
grower in Florida, and had written
time and time again for her mother
and sister to join her.
Miss Lelia had given little thought
to Florida. If she had been a boy she
would have chosen cattle raising some
where in the West, and even as it was
she leaned ‘strongly toward a home
stead there, and the raising of fruit or
poultry or farm crops for a living.
Women were doing such things every
day, and were succeeding, too. How-
ever, a few vigorous letters from Lieu-
tenant Charlie made her reluctantly
abandon the idea. '
But the orange State was a strong.
substitute and Miss Lelia was not
easily discouraged. There were free
lands in Florida, and with the home
of Alice as a vantage point she would
look around dud select a homestead,
and then she and her mother would go
to it and raise oranges or truck or
poultry, as circumstances and their in-
clination might suggest.
So a few weeks later found them at
Alice’s house, with such of their furni-
ture as they had not sold, and with
Alice’s husband on the lookout for a
suitable piece of vacant land.
“You will probably have to go back
some distance,” be said; “most of the
land in the vicinity of towns is already
taken cap—I know of several good
homesteads ten or fifteen miles away.”
Mrs. Sitaunton raised her eyebrows.
“That is a long distance,” she do
murreda, “Couldn’t we get nearer a
town than that?”
“It is doubtful. Land has been
taken up very rapidly during the past
few years. However, I will make more
inquiries. Sometimes a homestead is
abandoned by its claimant before his
title is perfected, and it reverts to the
government; then it may be reentercd
by anyone. Several such instances
have occurred in this neighborhood.”
One day he came in with a radiant
faec. . ~ ,
“I have found a prize for you!” he
exclaimed. “A German who lives two
miles from here has just been left a
fortune at home, and is going back. He
entered his claim nearly three years
ago, and has made quite a lot of im-
provements; but of course he doesn’t
mind them how. He leaves this after-
noon. a-nd then the land becomes pub-
, lic property.‘ I asked him if he had
spoken of'it to anyone, and he said on-
ly to the postmaster. He received the
news this morning and told the post-
master about it. I have been able to do
him some service, and when I'spoke
about you he seemed pleased, and said
that he would like .you to have the
hand and the improvements. He said
he would like to think of the place as
belonging to some of my people. Now
the sooner you file your claim the bet-
I will go with you to-morrow, if
you like.”
“Why not go at once?” asked Miss
Lelia, eagerly. ' '
on"
u.“-
“I have an engagement this after-
noon and can't possibly get off. But
we’ll start early in the morning.”
“That might be too In ,” urged Miss
Lelia. “It’s only fifteen miles to‘Gains-
Her brother-in-law looked at her
thoughtfully. .
“Well, I~don’t+know,” he replied,
“I hardly like the idea of your going
alone. Still, time is important, as you
say; and the road is good, and you are
a splendid rider. You could spend the
- night with Mrs. Wilson. Under the cir-
cumstanccs—”
“I had better go,” she interrupted.
“Good! now if you will please saddle a
horse I will run upstairs and get
ready.”
outskirts of a small town, and as he
went toward the barn he heard hasty
footsteps outside the fence which sep-
arated him from the street, and pres-
ently a strong, athletic figure vaulted
over and came toward him.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Gifford,” the
stranger saidhurriedly, “but can you
let me have a horse for a few hours?
My brother said you kept the best
horses in town.”
“Not to lot, though,” answered Mr.
Gifford, rather coldly. “Who is yOur
brother?”
“Henry Wayne, the postmaster. You
see, I only reached here to—day, and
Henry has been telling me something
which renders my presence in Gaines-
ville imperative.” '
“A111!" ‘
“I am in a great hurry,” hinted M-r.
| Wayne, after a prolonged silence,
I “and I will pay you well.” .
“I want no pay,” harshly. Then,with
a sudden change of'voice, “Yes, I think
I can list you have a horse; but I do not
warrant his speed.” ,
Leading the way to the stable he
pointed to a large gray.
“That is the strongest one in the
stable,” lhe said; “you can have him if,
you like. The black one is faster, but
I reserve him especially for the side.
saddle; and the two bays have been
working this morning.”
Five minutes later he led the black
horse to the stile. Miss Lelia was wait-
ing.
“Who was that gentleman '3” she
asked. .
“A Mr.Wayne. He is going to Gaines-
ville. I let him have the gray horse.”
“The gray horse!” she echoed, as she
sprang lightly into the saddle. “Why,
that is the plow horse. He Could go
faster on foot.”
“So I think,” coolly; “but I fancy he
is after the very piece of land I have
been telling you about. He has gone
by the main road; you must take the
short cut through the live oaks and on
past Lake Dora. That will save you
two miles and anew you to avoid him.
He might recognise the black horse.”
He took a slip of paper from his pock-
et—book and handed it to her. “That
contains all the necessary information
about the homestead,” he admonished.
“Give it to the clerk whose name is on
the back. He knows me, and will see
go, and don’t spare the whip.”
Miss Lelia was a good rider, as he
had said, and it was not ’long before
she had passed through the live oaks,
and by Lake Dora, and so on to the
main road. The stranger was not in
sight.
She rode on with exuberant Spirits.
when of a sudden her horse shied to one
side at sight of a cow quietly grazing
at the roadside. Lelia had carelessly
allowed the reins to fall upon Jack’s
neck, and being entirely unprepared for
this sudden movement, she was unable
to recover her seat in the saddle, but
slid to the ground in an undignified and
somewhat forcible manner, while her
horse, free of its rider, gaily started for
home. -
Lelia found that in her fall she had
sprained her ankle, and that While the
injury was apparently not serious, she
must wait for some time before she
assayed to walk.
An hour went by. Then she heard
the faint tap, tap of hoof beats in the
distance. Presently a gray horse ap-
peared, and behind him was Dick, ap-
parently being led by the rider of the
gray. As they approached she recog-
nized her brother-in-law’s plow horse,
and the rider was, of course, after the
very land she wanted. Her heart'sank.
“I suppose this is your horse?” The
voice was rich and musical, and as the
stranger lifted his but she felt that the
strong, scholarly face belonged to a
true man. “I methim down the road,
and thought he had run away. Ah,
, you are hurt!” he added,as she 'essayed
to step forward.
you.” He sprang from .his horse,
throwing the bridle of the black over
his arm as he did so. “My gray will
stand all right,” he said, smilingly. “I
am afraid that his owner thought I
was a poo-r horseman, and'so gave me
a steed that would be safe. Easy now;
been on me.”
He assisted her to the saddle, and
then examined the girths and bridle to
see that everything was sccurc.
“ Do you think you are able -to go on
- alone?” he asked.
“Oh, certainly! The bushes broke my
fall. I think that my ankle will be all
right by tomorrow.”
“Well, then, I will not try to keep up
with you. My horse is very deliberate
in his movements, and I doubt if I
reach town before dark. Good-by."
He watched her until she passed be~
bind a bend in the road; then he
mounted the gray and jogged slowly
after. '
As she rode on, Miss Lelia’s emo.
tlons were a curious mixture of exulta~
tion and dismay. She would be first to
enter a claim to the land, but in doing
’so she almost felt that she would be
taking an unfair advantage of the man
who__:had come to her. assistance. At
Her brother-in-law’s place was in the _
that your entry is made correctly. Now ,-
“Here, let me assist. '
times ' she thought of stopping and
waiting for him to come up, and of ex-
plaining everything and offering him a
fair race. Thenshe would think of her
mother, and of her brother-in-l-aw, and
of the German who had said that he
would like her to have the land. or
course she had a better right to it than
this stranger; and of course it would
be the height of folly for her to throw
away any of her advantage. ,
But she could not quite satisfy her-
self; and the thought of the stranger
jogging along on the old plow horse ac-
companied her into town, and into the
land office, and grew stronger when
she knew that the homestead was so
curely in her possession.
Early next morning she started on
her return trip, and soon after leaving
town overtook the old gray horse and
his rider, moving slowly back toward
home.
“I am glad to see you looking so
well,” said Mr. Wayne, as she relned
in her horse in answer to his saluta-
tion. “I‘hope‘ your adventure of yes-
terday caused you no inconvenience."
“Very little, thanks to you.”
They rode on for some minutes ‘in
silence, then Mr. Wayne looked at her
humorously. '
“If you are not in a hurry," :he
said, “I will do my best to make the old
gray keep up.”
“I have the day before me, and I
shall be” glad to have company.”
“Thank you.” Then, “Did you enter
your claim all right?”
Miss Lelia flushed and looked at him
inquiringly. He laughed frankly.
“I recognized your horse as one I had
seen in Mr. Gifford’s stable, and I put
one thing and another together. But
don’t think I harbor the least ill-feeling
toward the old gray,”
quickly, patting the animal as he
spoke; “he and I are getting on fa-
mously together. ‘And really and truly
and honestly, Miss—”
“Stannton.”
“Thank you—Miss Stanton, I am a
thousand times obliged to you for ob-
taining that land. 2You see, my brother
was wild about my getting it, and his
enthusiasm was so contagious I never
paused to. consider the consequences.
Now, I am a lawyer, and I think I see
a good opportunity down here for me
to practice my profession. But sup-
pose I had buried myself out on that
homestead. Why, it would have been
the extinguishing of both the profes-
sion and myself. Not but what it is a
fine piece of land,” hastily, “and a
prize to anyone who can afford to live
on it the necessary five years. But you
see I could not do that and practice.”
Miss Lelia looked at him searchingly.
“Are you in earnest?” she asked.
“Really and truly and honestly, as I
just observed.”
She looked relieved.
“I am glad to hear it," she said. “I
was afraid that I—I might not have
acted quite fairly by you.”
When they reached the home of Mr.
Gifford they found the owner absent.
Mr. Wayne assisted Lelia to dismount,
and took the horses to the stable.
Then he came back to the porch to sa
good-by. ,
“It has been a very pleasant ride,”
he said earnestly, and something in
his voice brought a warmer color to
her face. “May I call again?”
The color grew deeper, and some.
thing of her embarrassment even crept .
into her voice as she answered—
“Yes, Certainly” .
—Waverley Magazine.
MADE AN UNFORTUNATE SPEECH
It Embarrassed the Young Lady and
Amused the Onlookers.
It was on a Delmar avenue car, says
the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. The car
had stopped,and everybody knows how
in the stillness of a. stopped car, a
voice as soft as a cooing dove smites
the general car as clearly as the stri-
dent voice of the professional orator
at a ward meeting.
The young man fumbled in his
pockets in vain. He was moneyless.
In a stage whisper intended for his
:ompanion’s ear-s alone,but which went
to the ears of all the passengers, with-
out discrimination, he said:
“Have you any change with you, I
changed my pants and left my money
behind?”
Of course, the passengers wereall
attention. They always are on such
occasions. The young lady looked in
her purse and felt in her pockets. The
search was in vain. She stage-whis-
pered, “I’ve done the same thing.”
She meantshe had left her money
at home, but she framed it unhappily.
And when one or two heartless young
men laughed mildly shc blushed and
made things worse by explaining audi-
bly that she had left her money in her
other dress. A fellow-passenger paid
coth fares, and the episode and the car
passed. on.
In the hinttcr of Good Reads.
Amlllion miles macadamizcd road
would cost $4,000,000,000, but would
dispense with about half the draft ani-
mals in the country, and thus saVc
$738,000,000 in the annual feed bill.
This is three per cent interest on $36,-
300,000,000. Consequently ifroad bonds
were issued bearing 3 per‘ cent interest,
more than 6,000,000 miles of macadam—
ized road could be built without in-
creasing the annual expenses one dol-
lar. The people are paying 3'per cent
on $36,000,000,000 in order to keep up
thexprcsent bad roads. So the apostles
‘ of good roads figure.
The Dog W'as All Right.
“Do you know that your confounded
{log barks all night?”
“Yes, I suppose hedoes. But don’t
worry about him. He makes up for ii
Dy sleeping all day.”—Oleveland Plair
Dealer. , p '
‘-
.‘..
he went on '
AN ANGELIC HUSBAND.
There are husbands who are pretty.
There are husbands who are witty,
There are husbands who in public are at
' smiling as the morn:
There are husbands who are healthy.
There are husbands who are wealthy.
But the real angelic husband — well. he“:
never yet been born. ’
Some for strength of love are noted. V
Who are really so devoted
That whene’e‘r their wives are absent theifihrrn .
lonesome and forlorn: ;
And now and then you’ll find one
Who’s a fairly good and kind one,
Yet the real angelic husband—Oh, he‘s never
- yet been born.
So the woman who is mated
-To a man who is rated
As “pretty fair". should cherish him for ever
' and a day;
For the real angelic creature, ,
Perfect, quite, in every feature—
He has never been discovered, and he won’t
.be, so they say. -
——T. B. Aldrich in the Forum.
‘PERSIST‘ENCY WON.
Arthur Singleton was being refused
the logical outcome of proposing to Miss
Berkley after an acquaintance of barely
three weeks. Furthermore, the young
lady, no less compaSsionate than beau-
tiful, had deemed it advisable to sug-
gest, for his own sake, that his visits
should cease, until he could regard her
merely as a faithful friend» who, though
esteeming him highly, did not love him
and could never be his wife.
“Is it not better so?” she asked. “Af-
ter what has now passed between us—
if you are as sincere in your profession
of regard for me as I believe you are—
my apparent lack of a reciprocal senti-
ment, being day by day impressed upon
you, must necessarily cause you great
pain.”
“And in requesting me to cease my
visits, are you not, Miss Berkley, actu-
ated by a fear of the consequence of
their continuance—to yourself?”
“I don’t understand you,” said Miss
Berkley, looking at him quickly. She
saw a fair smile playing about the cor;
ners of his mouth, but in her surprise
she failed to notice how grim it was.
“I mean,” returned Singleton, “that
having formed the resolution not to
love me, are you not fearful lest a pro-
longed acquaintance should impel you
to accept me as a. husband?”
An expression of blank astonishment
overspread Miss Berkley’s face; then a
flush of pardonable indignation mantle-
ed her brow.
“I must confess myself a dull observer
of human nature, Mr. Singleton, for
during the three weeks I have known
you I was not aware that egotism was
dominant in your character.”
“Why not say ‘confidence’7—But no
matter—call it what you will. Your
manner plainly indicates, however, that
you thing the very idea of my being
able to shake your resolution is absurd.
I will prove it is not.”
“How?” asked Miss Berkley, sarcas:
tically.
“By winning
your will."
“Oh, indeed!”
“The enterprise is unique, I’ll con-
fess,” continued the imperturable Sing-
leton. “Let us make it more so. You
like bonbons, do you not? Well, I am
especially desirous of having you select
a bookmark for me. Now, I will wager
abox of bonbons against a bookmark
that three months from today you will
accept me as a. husband—subject, how-
ever, to certain conditions.”
“And the conditions. please?“ The
smile on Miss Berkley’s lips would in all
probability have discouraged any one
else, but Singleton did not seem tomind
it in the least.
“First, that you continue to receive
I
you for my wife againet
me as you have lately done; secondly,
that at the expiration of the three
months you will give me an opportunity
to repeat my proposal, and that you
will then give me a definite answer.”
“Very well; I accept the wager and
grant the conditions.”
“Your hand upon it, Miss Berkley.”
They shook hands; then Singleton
withdrew.
About this time Lady Plympton gave
a ball in honor of the home coming of
her son, Captain George, who had for
several years served Her Majesty in a
military capacity in India. Singleton
besought of Miss Berkley the privilege
of escorting her to the function, and it
was accorded him; but when he be-
sought of her the further privilege of
inscribing his name on her dancing card
in five or six places, his hopes were
dashed by the intimation that he would
be restricted to two.
After their first measure they separ-
ated. Miss Berkley was then appropri-
ated by the hero of the evening, Cap;
tain George Plympton,whose attentions
to her for the next few hours were con-
spicuous enough to excite'comment. It
was also apparent that Miss Berkley
found the young ofiicer as fascinating as
he found her, and it was a mooted ques-
tion among the speculative whether or
not Miss Berkley had ever treated man
so graciously before.
But where was Singleton?
Oh, Singleton was dancing with Mrs.
Colchester, a charming widow, young,
handsome, witty and rich.
By and by Captain George proposed
to Miss Berkley that they should “sit
on ” one of the dances. He knew of
such a charming place—a little alcove
half way upstairs—wouldn’t she come?
Well, she was a little fatigued, and;
thought she would—and did. But they
did not sit in that little alcove, for there
they found Mr. Singleton and Mrs. Col-
chester. They all nodded pleasantly to
one another, and Captain George and
Miss Berkley “sat it 011 ” somewhere
else. In consequence of this Miss Berk-
ley has since consistently and emphati-
cally maintained that a bachelor who
deliberately flirts with a widow in the
presence of an assembly of respectable
people is a social abomination and
should be repressed.
The morning of September 11 dawned
clear and bright. This was the day on
which Fate, invited by Singleton. was
to preside at the interview which
should determine the future relations of
Miss Berkley.
and her egotistical
' wooer. . , .
. was all over.
l
- Singleton wont shooting; Miss Berk-
;ey malainel at home.
Singleton, in the fields, confessed that
he had never before had such execrable
luck withhis gun. Miss Berkley in the
library. acknowledged that never before
'had the hours seemed so tardy and so
unpromising of better things. Was
Singleton coming, or wasn’t he? Well.
he knew what her answer would be, so
there was really no necessity for his ap-
peering.
adhering;th his word. no matter what
the consequences. These were her re-
flections in the morning. In the after-
noon she wondered just how, much Sin-
: gleton cared for that Colchester woman.
Perhaps he was calling on her then.
What was there in Mr. Singleton that
pleased Mrs. Colchester? She wonder-
edhow he would look and feel after it
About 3 o'clock she be-
gan to feel unwell—a sort of nervous at-
tack, she thought.
son she had occasional crying spells.
The persistency of. these attacks made
her irritable. That was the reason she
scolded the maid who announced Captain
George Plympton. _ She was not “at
home” to Captain George to-day. At
5 o’clock the maid tremblingly an-
nounced that Mr. Singleton had called.
Should she tell him that Miss Berkley
was not at home? No, she should not.
So Singleton came in, and had the bad
form to lay his hat, stick and gloves on
the drawing room table.
“Three months ago, after having
known you only three weeks, I asked
yen to be my wife; you refused me;
we have now known each other for
nearly four months, and have had ample
time to consider what we then said. I
have reflected seriously on what I am
about to say, and having during the last
three months learned to regard you
more earnestly and devotedly than be-
fore, I will now take the liberty of re-
peating my proposal. Will you be my
Wife?”
Miss Berkley rose and with averted
face made her way slowly toward the
window. Singleton rose also, but did
not follow her. Thus for several mo-
ments they stood in silence. Why did
not the lady answer him? Surely the
egotist was at her mercy now. One
little word—the simplest in the lan-
guage—would humble all his conceit
and satisfy her curiosity. She had but
to speak that word and turn her head
to see how Arthur Singleton acted
in the presence of defeat. Why did she
not say it?
The little onyx clock on the mantel
ticked joyously—tick after tick—until
sixty Vii-1‘3 told. Then it started on an-
other sixty.
_ “You do not answer me,” said Sin-
gleton quietly;
Ah, but she did!' A moment laterhe
had his answer. It came gently—it
was scarcely more than a whisper—but
it came. “No.”
His face was pale, his lips were com-
pressed, and there was an expression of
overwhelming disappointment in his
eyes. She knew it all. Singleton ad-
vanced and extended his hand. How
it came to pass that her hand found a
place in his she never know. But she
will never forget that smile which she
then saw on Singleton’s lips. It was
not a cheerful one.
“I have lost,”
“Goodby.”
“Goodby!” exclaimed Miss Berkley,
softly, in a. tone of surprise.
“Yes, goodby,” he returned. “Three
months ago you said that a rejected
lover would find it difficult to maintain
the position of a disinterested friend
with respect to the woman‘he loves. I
did not believe you then, but in the
course of three mouths a man may
faltered Singleton.
learn many bitter truths. I now admit
that you were right.”
Miss Berkley smiled. Singleton
released her hand.
“Come and see me to-morrow after
noon,” said Miss Berkley gently, as Sin-
gleton turned away.
“I start for Paris in the morning,”
replied Singleton a trifle coldly.
That was the rea—‘
Still, she believed in amen .
* .
I‘ .1
’ VWoll‘é-k;il ' _
THE GRASS CROP. _
Sane Care is Necessary-to Get the Very ~
Bast Results. .
Now is the time par excellence to
carry into effect any resolutions that
may have been formed by farmers to-
ward devoting more attention to grass
culture. The experience of those who
produce from three to five tons of
clover and orchard grass buy on one
acre, ought to be sufficient inducement
for others to make similar experi-
ments. The difliculty of growing
abundant crops of clover, orchard
grass or timothy, lies not wholly in a
want of adaptability of soil and cli-
mate, but partly in the methods prac-
ticed by farmers. The practice of
seeding grass and clover with small
grains, in the spring, is common, and
as the grain is harvested in August
when the greatest heat and drouth
prevail, the protecting shade which the
grain adords the young grass and
clover is taken away just when most
grain makes demand upon the soil for
exactly the same food the grasses need,
and the grain, being larger and more
vigorous, gets the lion’s share of it. ‘ At
harvest, therefore, the grass and clover
is suddenly exposed to the heat of the
sun, when it is comparatively starved
and weak from the unequal struggle.
On rich soils, -where there is ample
plant food for both, ‘this objection does
not hold so strongly. September is
the natural Iand best seeding time for
grasses and clover, for in a wild or un-
cultivated state these plants begin
their growth then. it is nature’s ap-
pointment, and best suited rto the
wants of the plants. It is to be hoped
that farmers will arouse to the import-
ance of greater attentionto the culture
of the grasses. Grass was an original
bestowment of Providence, and its cul-
ture is a constant attendant and basis
of agricultural prosperity.—L. W. Gris-
wold.
Beet Sugar in the Middle States.
American A'griculturist of Aug. 8
very truly says in its leading editorial
that “we have to get out of the rut, to.
raise new crops,” and 'a plank in one
of the national platforms favors the
production on American soil of all the
sugar which the American people use
and for which they pay other countries
more «than $100,000,000 annually.” In-
vestigations have shown that the soil
and climate of York state are favorable
to the culture of the sugar beet, and it
4 cannot be a vain hope which leads us
to expect a large developmth of this
valuable industry throughout this
state within the next few years. The
area of land necessary to produce the
whole of the sugar consumed in the
United States would probably not ex- '
ceed five million acres, and it is there-
fore seen th‘at those localities which
are most favorable to its production
should be selected for this purpose.
The experiments. which have been
conducted at agricultural experiment
stations have demonstrated beyond
any possible dou’bt the fact that beets
of a reasonably high sugar content can
be produced and in quantities as large
if not greater than those grown in the
boot fields of Europe. In so far as the
manufacturing is concerned, conditions
are practically identical, although it
must be admitted that in some parts of
this country they are more favorable
and in others less so than in Europe.
Taking everything together, however,
thought it was a smile of triumph, and ; it may be said that the conditions of
manufacture, including the abund-
ance of fuel and its cheapness, and
the other factors active in determining
the cost of production, are as favorable
here as in other parts of this country
= or in Europe—L. W. Griswold.__
Singleton turned toward the table, :
and appropriating his hat, gloves and '
walking-stick, started for the door. But
Miss Berkley was at the door, and, '
what is more, she had her back against
it—thus cutting off his retreat.
“I’ll not let you go until you promise
to call on me to-morrow,” pouted the
lady. .
“I have said that I leave for Paris in
the morning.”
A dark flush mantled Singleton’s
brow, and there was an ominous gleam
in his eyes.
“I beg of you to let me pass, Miss
Berkley,” he said with frigid politeness.
“Don’t be angry with me, Mr. Sin-
gleton.”
That Singleton was angry it would
have been vain to deny. He felt that,
being beaten, he should at least have
been permitted to depart with the
honors of war. He laid his hand on the
knob of the door, and a moment later
felt Miss Berkley-’3 hand fall gently
: upon it.
“You need not send me those bon-
bons, Mr. Singleton,” faltered the lady,
as her eyes sought the well—handled but
insonsible knob. “If you leave me your
address I’ll—I’ll send you the bookmark
by post.” she said a, little feebly. Then
withdrawing her hand from the door
knob she continued: “You may go now
if you want to, Mr. Singleton.”
Having thus spoken, Miss Berkley
abandoned her position at the door, and
made her way dejectedly toward' the
Savings Banks’ Deposits.
There are more savings bank depos-
its in New York state than there are
voters. The number of depositors is
now about 1,750,000, who have saved-
cver $715,000,000 in sums ranging from
a few dollars to one thousand dollars.
These depositors represent more than
one-fourth of the total population, and
their deposits are nearly one-fifth of
the assessed value of the rtotal prop-
erty in the state. The proportionate
increase in deposits in rural -..;‘.‘:;gs
banks is quite as large as in city in-
stitutions. These are the savings of the
common people, wage-earners, persons
getting small salaries, farmers, and the
like. Every possible safeguard should
be extended to such deposits, and every
legitimate. inducement to thus save
their earnings should be offered to the ‘
people. These savings represent thrift
in the best form. Obliged by law to
be iHVested mainly within the state,
they are a powerful factor in its de-
velopment. Many a farmer, merchant
and manufacturer who is now “well
5 fixed” owes his start in part to a loan
from a savings bank of money depos‘
ited in small sums by people of humble
means who don’t feel able to prudently
invest their savings otherwise. These
{ savings banks, co-opcrative ban-ks and
' building and loan associations are one
window. Singleton for a few moments
looked as if he had taken leave of his 1
senses.
“Do you mean—” he exclaimed.
“I mean that I haven’t much confi-
dence in your ability to select bonbons;
still it would have been graceful in you
to have let me win them—would it
not?” and she turned toward him
saucily. ,
Singleton, dropping his hat, stick and
gloves, rushed across the floor, and
clasping thelady in his arms, he --well,
he kissed her, and she let lzim.--~I~!lack
and White. '
\
‘ of the truest indexes to genuine pros-
perity.
56 YEARS ESTABLISHEB;
GRAND‘ND UPRIGH T. -
Over 100,000 Manufactured.
EASY TERMS. EXCHANGED.
W
FISCHER PIANO WAREROOMS,
no Fifth Ave., cor. lath St., N.-Y. ‘
“a-..” ' WMfWCva.
Norwalk Chronicler