Belletonte, Pa., September 22, 1916. THE UNFINISHED PRAYER. “Now I lay me—say it, darling.” . “Lay me,” lisped the tiny lips Of my daughter, kneeling, bending, O’er her folded finger-tips. “Down to sleep,” “to s’eep,” she mur- mured ; And the curly head bent low. “I pray the Lord,” I gently added— “You can say it all, I know.” “Pay de Lord,” the words came faintly— Fainter still, “my soul to teep.” Then the tired head fairly nodded, * And my child was fast asleep. But the dewy eyes half opened When I clasped her to my breast, And the dear voice gently whispered— “Mamma, Dod knows all de yest.” «Oh! the trusting, sweet confiding Of the child-heart! Would that I Thus might trust my Heavenly Father, He who hears my feeblest cry! —Selected. Of course some strain of insanity was in her veins but it had not ap- peared till her sixteenth year. Yes, mother died, if not mad, yet certainly possessed of an insane idea—she, a child of the South, passionately de- voted to her husband; and one day her great black eyes saw his languid smile kindle at sight of a fair-faced, blue-eyed stranger from the North, and her heart burned within her. Presently Jacques was speaking with the stranger. And presently again they walked together, and on parting he offered her a rose, and she pinned it on her bosom. How offend- ed, how insulted, how hurt was the wife! It was not the chance giving of a flower, she felt; it was the evidence of a new love. She saw hreself neg- lected, forgotten, cast off; and the rose became the symbol of all the old love and joy, and as she longed for that love and joy again she longed for that rose. It was all in a momemt. Her eyes flashed she took a step forward and would have torn it off had not her husband put out an intervening arm.’ “What would you?” he said. “A mere courtesy.” But it did not avail. The rose— that rose—she must have it. “Give me that rose!” she said to the frightened girl. “It is mine!” Her husband took her by the hand and led her away. “Are you mad?” he said, as she hung back with avert- ed head. - “The rose! The rose!” she said. And it was all she ever said till some little time later, her child was born. Just before she died she look- ed up at her husband bending over her and murmured: “The rose I grew. Its great leaves blotted out heaven and you. Yes, I have been mad. But now I know. The rose is dust, but love is immortal.” The father became a conscript, and he fell on the field of battle. The child was left tc unkind fate. She grew np by one hand and another of indif- ferent and grudging relatives, who worked hard for their daily bread, a lovely creature, violet-eyed -and sun- ny-haired, without eduaction, but with the sweet manners of gentle in- stinct, and with facile fingers for all delicate intricacy of work, loving her needle, and on everything che wrought embroidering roses. She wa« named Aimee, but she was usually called the girl, or that bird there, th» papillon. Various vouths would have paid court to her, but she seemed to look through them as if they did not exist. Yet she loved to deck herself out in her rose-embroidered gown, coarse cotton though it was, and hang long garlands of rose-boughs over her shoulders to her knees. She was most gentle in her ways and words; every one loved her; but the oider people began to say that she was folle. There was one of the youths who loved her better than the others did. He was called Francois, having no other name—a dark young fellow with a beaming eye. He had a little shop where he sold ribbons. They often walked together in the twilight, work being over. Sometimes he brought her roses, since she loved them so; she took them with a rap- ture that could have been mistaken for delight in himself if he had not understood her. Soon she was never without roses, ir her hair, on her breast, wreathing her arms. She never had a seu in her life—how did she come by these flowers? She was not quite seventeen when they heard her telling strange tales of her roses. “They are mine,” she said. “All the roses on the earth.” They accused her of rifling gardens. “The roses love me,” she said. “They wish to be about me, and they break their stems to come to me. You may see them, the.single blossoms, gliding through the air to me. Ihave but to think of a rose and it is here. They have a spirit—oh, undoubtedly. ‘You are a rose yourself,” they say. They tell me to look at the sunrise when I go to the silk-mill, at the sunset on the river—all the world is a rose. The floor of heaven is paved with roses. I keep the leaves, that I may make from them an attar for the priest in the last sacrament. There is one climbing over the wall of the queen’s garden to see the world go by; it begs me tc come for it, in a whisper as soft—oh, as soft as its breath. It is a rose of perfection. Some day I shall go for it.” Shel: went; and the gardeners found her in the queen’s garden, with her lifted skirt full of the great heavy-headed damask blooms. It was in vain that grandam and Suzanne and Justine pursued the offi- cers with outery and vociferation concerning the irresponsibility of the poor papillon; that Francois followed with comforting words for her till the prison gates were closed upon him. She was tried, and found guilty of her offense. It was plain theft; she was seen; the flowers were found in her possession; it was fortunate that she was not held for lese majeste. The "as that ’twould cease to be a rcse. point Suzarne to sell for us, the flow- Canada Sent 70 Per Cent. | | them felt themselves trembling a mo- | more arresting, with the precision. queen’s garden, indeed! She was sentenced to the prison for : they of the roundness, the clear cut? ; women of all sorts. Yet the worst of | And behold the petals there! Have i Fi donc! Make another, Twenty-three, { ment before the fair, wondering crea- | And thou, Ninety-nine, try thine own | ture with the great tears dropping hand now.” And all at once Airee,'’ { from her lashes as she thought of the | struck with the new idea, laid hola of roses she had lost. “I shall come back, Francois,” she said, “and we i the pink atom of silk, and the deeper : pink, and cut and snipped, and helu to | shall have our roses together.” And | the light, and measured with the eve, | Francois felt the blue sky pitiless, and clustered together, and dropped i { | the soft wind a mockery. . | the gum on the green and the brown They were hard and bad women in jtissue, and secured her wire, and roll- the prison, sent there for dreadful [ed the stems—and, behold, a rose! crimes, for all manner of infamies. What was there abcut this young girl coming among them that suddeén- ly made their hearts quiver? = Possi- bly it was thought of their own girl- hood before sin cvertook them; she was so slim, so fair, so like a flower, so innocent! Perhaps, in spite of Syerything, it was the mother in them all. “It is fcr stealing a rose—a rose! che is here,” exclaimed Adriane. “While I have fingers, she shall have her rose!” And where she. got a bit of pink tissue-paper only Heaven knew, and how she pinched it into petals and found some yellow threads for stamens only a French-woman could tell you. It was a rude and rag- ged thing, but it hore the semblance of a rose; and when it was thrust through the grate of her cell and fell upon the stone floor, the girl, waking from her day-dream, caught it up, if not with so much joy as when Fran- cois had brought her roses fresu with dew, vet as one embraces a long-lost friend. There was hardly a woman in the prison who by the next nightfall had not heard of Adriane’s success, had rot, through the subtle channels thev knew how to command, obtained scraps of pink silk, of crimson silk, of vellow and cream and white, and was not busy with them. “Madame sees the little one, the poor child, la tete legere,” said Ad- riane to the directress, who had come to her cell at Adriane’s demand, trembling herself now—she, the defi- ant Adriane, who had made nothing but trouble in the place with her out- breaks and rebellions since coming there for her interminable period. “Doubtless hers is a sin—but so trifling! The child pines. She will fade away. She will die!” “Jt is not to te helped, Twentyv- three. ment, Ciel! not for her amusement.” “Pardon,” said Adriane. “Madame knows there are new views of inc:r- ceration. It is for the protection of society, not the punishment of ‘he of- fender That, the punishment, is in the hands of the good God.” Madame was at once enraged and amused. But much in Adriane was everlooked. “Peste!” said Adriane. “I myself— I—one calls me meurtriece. But should this little one here die in her cell, she will have been mu dure |!'— It is to madame!” and Adriane made a mocking obeisance with outstretch- ed hands, while madame received her insolence for what it was worth. So it came about that the wor'en were allewed to send their floral fail- ures and successes into the ccll of the new-comer. The directress, a wise woman in her way, and with ideas as to prison reform, having lately been almost at her wits’ end, and moved herself by the young girl’s circum- stances saw in a flash certain great possibilities. But she could do noth- ing rashly. Those who were allowed neither scissors nor needles, nor any sharp instrument, were not to be trusted all at once. There had been a wild revolt in the prison but recently. The women had broken everything about them that was breakable, they had torn their clothes to tatters, and the air had rung with their ribald cries and oaths. It was “isvally a long while before the waters of the mighty trouble subsided. But to-day a sweet calm pervaded the place, broken only by now and then a glad cry over zome approach to floral beauty in the work. They pinched and pulled and Puffed their poor ma- terial into shape; sometimes they tore the stuff with their teeth, some- times they used a surreptitious pin. And, all done, each waited for the cry of delight from the cell of Aimee, and heard her singing her sweet song as she bound the flowers about her, with a rapture of their own such as per- haps they had never felt before in their, poor lives. Thus it happened that when Fran- cois, having timidly begged admit- tance, was allowed a moment at the cell’s grille with the one fresh rose he had brought her, he saw her cell as if the walls had bloomed in roses of all colors, a wilderness of roses, and her- self radiant. He kissed the little fin- gers she slid through the bars, and left in them the rose just plucked. Francios went at once, with Ai- mee’s glad cry ringing in his ears, to a man who worked for a milliner, and he came back next day rich with tiny retanants of silk and satin and velvet of all deep or delicate tints in which a rose and her green leaves are ever born, with long strips of his own rib- bons, with wax and wire and gum, with crystal beads, and even with scissors. It was against the rules. But what are rales for except to break ? . . : Francois sought the directress, and told her the simple story. “There is no wrong in the child,” he said. “She is innocent as the cherubs who have only heads 2nd wings in the great altar-piece. She is but light in the head, the poor parillon. She has cov- eted roses—all her life, roses. Now if she has of them—madame can see —it may be—a surfeit of the things Is it possible madame never heard of a cure?” Madame never had heard of a cure after this fashion. But what impo:t? One does not know ail things. She would vensider. By and by she herself took the gift of Francois to Aimee, and summoned Adriane there. If she nad not been a woman of courage :he would not have been in her postion. She was not afraid of Adriane with the scissors. “Make a rose,” she com- manded. And Adriane with great in- souciance began to form the flower, leaf by leaf, finishing in a frenzy -of delight. “It is not perfect,” said the direct- ress. “Had a rosé ever such a heart She is here for her punish-: | She shrieked with joy, and she turned i and pinned the rose on the bosom of | the ‘directress. Even Adriane, th» { bold, trembled at the liberty the girl had taken. “Adriane,” said the directress, “I know I can trust thee. But the others— mom “Madame.” said Adriane, with erect dignity, as if she had not been ring- responsible.” shapped and delivered, med—and all for Aimee. In months’ time that cell was lined with roses till one couid not see the wall. At his next call Francois brought a tiny vial of attar of irvuses. “It is all they waited for!” Aimee cried; and she forgot he was there while putting a tiniest drep on a bunch of the flow- the vial open among her materials, so they might say that if they were not i the rose, they had been with the rose. + And surely never along prison ccr- ridors before was wafted such gales of sweetness, as if whole gardens had bloomed close at hand. It was not too often that the regu- lations allowed his visits. When he came again and saw through the grat- ‘ling the blooming bower of her cell, Francois felt that Aimee must be in possession of all she longed for. But she was sitting on her bench, her hands hanging before her, in a pos- ture of deep dejection. She wore no flowers; but the window, through which one had sight of a strip of blue sky or a snowy cloud, was garlanded with them. The window was so high up that it caught a sclitary sunbeam that touched the girl’s fair hair to a I shining aureole for the instant of its stay, and made Francois think of some saint. He twisted a gar- denia in his fingers. She smiled then, looking at it. “The lovely straightway she began to make a gar- denia.. At another time he brought her sweet-veas tc copy, and vet again forget-me-nots, and in their season apple-blows and buttercups. Those others copied them, too; Adriane mov- ing among them, the dark-browed Adriane, like an angel of mercy as she brought the women the new flow- er. . But one time Francois came and found Aimee in a cell on another cor- ridor. She had begged to be transfer- red, as the fragrance of the attar had become oppressive to her. But she was making a fleur-de-lis, most deli- cately and exquisitely, and singing softly to herself as her slender fingers twinkled in among the vetals. She looked up at him brightly. “I have been in a far country, Fran- cois,” she said. “But I have returned It was ‘a world of roses. Now a rose is to me no more than a mallow. Iam cured, my Francois. And when am I 10 go away? Certainly I am not here | forever. And where, where am I to 20?” ’ | “Thou wilt come with me,” { Francois. i She shook her head gently. As the ! opening bud, brushed by the bee, he- comes the full-blown flower, as the fruit ripens swiftly when the wasp has stung it, so the catastrophe of surfeit had made the child a woman. “Not possible,” she said. “The things that might have been are always the sweetest. There is that which may come again to me. We will make an end here.” “How, make an end?” : Francois, his eyes full of shadow. “We will not marry. We will not give such inheritance to any,” she said, her eves searching the heart of the fleur-de-lis. “Which,” said Francois, “does not hinder that we shall be together.” The prison corridors were very still that day. Possibly it was the still- ness that precedes the storm. Except for now and then a burst of derisive song, there was all but dead silence there. The directress, who at last had seen the end in view for which she had wrought, had informed the women that they would make no more flowers to hang round Aimee. Their flowers should be put on sale in the market, and the prison would therce- forth be self-supporting. A matter for pride ard joy. “No more roses for Aimee—for the little one? No more, then, for any one! The State had put them here; the State would have to support them!” And they sat back and folded their arms, and Adriane’s arms were the most ‘resolute of all, and her shower of nods the most emphatic, as she tossed her scissors through the grille. Francois was there that day to take Aimee away, the day of liberty hav- ing come. She was allowed to pause at every grating and say good-by to the sad souls. They begged to kiss her pretty fingers. “I am going to sell my flowers,” she said to them. “Francois gives me a window in his shop. Francois is my brother.” ! “We will make flowers for your win- dow,” they called, almost in chorus. And peace reigned again in the poor prison and in the heart of the direct- ress. - “Qh, how good is the air, the wind, the sky, the sun, the freedom, the rus- tling of the leaf!” cried Aimee, as she sat at work on her flowers in Fran- cois’s window. “How sad for my poor sisters of the prison! But I shall go often to bring them the breath of the outdoors.” “But, yes,” said Francois. “Thou art always thinking for others.” “See! I have made great sales to- day, not only mine, but theirs. We shall be rich, my brother. We will have a little: house and a garden of real flowers in the country, and ap- said leader in countless riots, “can hold me | Madame did. And Adriane cut and and those : other arranged and twisted and gum- : two ers. “It is able to be too much,” she | said. And after that she merely left ' thing,” she said. “It has a soul.” And | ers for me, the ribbons for thee.” “That cannot be, petite, unless— Is brother the last word, Aimee?” And his voice trembled like a string that is stretched to breaking. “The last,” she said, gazing into space with eyes like violets’ washed with dew. then she added in a lighter tone: “They go to pardon Adriane. She can live with us and keep the house. And since you have no other name, shall brother.” And today would you have silken flowers, with a suspicion of fragrance | to them, a dash perhaps of dew, and so like the real that ycu expect them to wither and be tossed away, flowers of an almost ethereal beauty, you will, as the duchesses and princesses do, buy them at the window of Aimee.— By Harriet Prescott Spofford, in Harper's Monthly Magazine. Made in Philadelphia. One-sixth of the world’s output of radium is made within seven miles of Philadelphia in a factory at Lans- downe, which is one of six plants of its kind in the world. - It has a capac- ity of producing threes grams of ra- dium a year. The process by which the metal is made was discovered by Dr. D. H. Kabakjian, assistant pro- : fessor of physics in the University of , Pennsylvania and a resident of : Landsdowne. i There are only two other radium . factories in the United States. Ore is ‘operated by a private corporation in | Pittsburgh and the other, a Govern- | ment enterprise, is under the super- | vision of the Bureau of Mire: in Den- i ver, Col. In all three plants the pro- | cess by which radium, the most valu- | able of all substances, is made, broad- i ly speaking, is the same. In all the i plants “radium salt” is male from i carnotite, a yellowish, claylike miner- ! al, found in Colorado. Doctor Kabak- | jinan’s secret method of treating the | carnotite ore, however, is bringing “Entirely the last.” And | paper came from Canada, according | of Pulp Used in U. S. More thar two-thirags of the more than a billion pounds of wood pulp imported into the United States dur- ing the fiscal year ending June 30, 1916, and used in the manufacture of j to a communication to the National i Geographic Society from John Oliver | La Gorece. The pulp importations for 1915- we be Francois Freres? Always my | 191g have been 180,000,000 pounds A EE TTR Sugar Cane in Cuba. | Nothing about the sugar industry, ! which was full of surprises, astonish- i ed me more than to discover that sev- en crops of cane are raised on Cuban land without sticking a plow in the i soil. This is one of the several rea- sons why Cuba can produce sugar i cheaper than any other country in the world and does the job so well. | The clearing is simple. With ox ! and machete the Cuban fells the trees and hacks down the underbrush. | less than for the previous twelve | These he lets lie until dry and then | better results than any of the other: . processes used in this country or else- i where. According to the inventor, it | is extracting ninety per cent of ra- dium from the ore. { nia since 1905, when he entered one of i the departments there as a student. { He has been on the teaching staff since 1910, and he discovered his car- | notite radium ‘process after three i years of experimentation in the lab- | oratories at the University of Penn- | sylvania. “ | Some idea of the delicacy of the i secret chemical processes which the | carnotite ore undergoes can be glean- ied from the output of the "factory. ! Hundreds of tons of carnniite are jnsed during the course of a year. { Twenty-five men working nine hours {a day for a year will produce three ! grams of pure radium salt. 'The mar- ket price of radium is $100,000 a gram ‘at this time, and the Lansdowne fac- days yearly output is worth $300,- 000. ! Doctor Kabakjian recently sold his process to the W. L. Cummings : Chemical Company, now operating i the plant at Lansdowne, but has been - retained by the company as its ra- : dium expert. The carnotite is brought | from the company’s mines in Paradox | Valley, Col. n 0 “For | “The carnotite process is an | one,” said Doctor Kabakjian. , several years, however, I have been | experimenting ' to discover a method { which would be more efficient than | those in use in other radium factories | throughout the world. I believe I i have found one at last. We have no | way of telling exactly what our com- | petitors are doing, but we do know we | are getting mighty fine results here. “The cost of the ore varies from $100 to $500 per ton, depending on the percentage of pure carnotite it | contains. We use on an average of | two tons a day: The ore is put through ' off. The byproducts of these proces- | ses, uranium and vanadium, are used ' for making varicus steel alloys. We {send them abroad, where they are used for making a highspeed steel that will withstand terrific tempera- ture. These two by-products cf ra- dium are used for making gun and projectile steel, I understand. “Before the war,” said he, “the great surgeons of Europe were able to give their attention to the cure of cancer and other diseases which re- quire radium treatment. Since the war started, however, these surgeons are busy taking care of the sick and wounded on the battle fronts. The unfortunates who are suffering from cancer and similar diseases are get- ting along as best they can without treatment, so the demand for radium has fallen off. Before the war start- ed the price was $120,000 a gram. Now it has fallen to $100,000.” Radium is sent to all parts of the world from the factory in Lansdowne. A short time ago Doctor Kabakjian sent out a $5000 order to an institu- tion in the West. “We have to be mighty careful how we ship this ma- terial,” he said. “The radium salt is placed in a sealed glass tube like this one,” and he rolled a little glass tube not much larger than a five-penny nail between his fingers. The radium salt is carefully locked up each night in a vault at the Lans- downe factory. “Of cousre, we have no fear of theft,” said W. L. Cum- mings, president of the corporation, “put we are taking no chances. A gust of wind might blow away ten years’ output of radium before you could wink an eyelid. And even if a clever thief stole a quantity of radi- um he would find it virtually impossi- ble to dispose of it. The Bureau of Standards at Washington keeps a rec- ord of every milligram of radium, and no hospital would buy radium from an individual without insisting on knowing where he got it.” A wealthy philanthropist has just placed an order for $50,000 worth of radium with the Cummings company. When the order is completed the met- al will be sent to a large eastern hos- pital as a permarent memorial to its donor. It is to be used for establish- ing a free radium treatment clinic. months, yet the amount shipped to us from Canaca during the last year was 130,000,000 pounds in excess of her 1914-1915 shipments. During the year just closed nearly 70 per cent. of our 1,135,000,000 pounds of pulp came from our neighbor to the north, while most of the remain- ing thirty per cent. came from Nor- way and Sweden. The enormous volume and impert- ance of the paper manufacturing in- dustry in the United States are sel- dom realized by the chief beneficiary, the average reader. According to the most recent figures the United States Department of Commerce (1914,) the value of the annual preduction of the paper mills of this country exceeds $330,000,000. More than fifty million dollars of this sum is represented in newspaper—1,313,284 tons, or enough to print 10,500,000,000 fourteen-page, eight-colamn papers. The book paper (plain, coated ana cover) output was valued at $73,000,000 in 1914, an in- crease of thirty-four per cent. over 1909. The weight of this class of pa- per was 1,869,958,000 pounds— enough to print thirty-three stand- ard-size magazines of 120 pages eacl for every man, woman and child in the United States. ° For the manufacture of coated or calendered paper two essential ingre- dients—casein and koalin—are exten- sively imported. For the nine months | ending March 31, 1916, our receipts of casein from abroad reached the enormous total of 7,185,794 pounds, valued at $598,979, much of which, of : course, was used in other arts as well as in paper manufacture. Casein is the principal ingredient in cheese, and | is a white crumbling its pure form Most of our imported acid substance. i kaolin or china clay, which is used in Doctor Kabakjian has been connect- | Fr . ed with the University of Pennsylva- | the manufacture of porcelain as well as in paper-making, comes from Eng- land, the shipments from that country for 1915 amounting to more than five hundred million pounds, valued at $1,478,905. Our total imports of kao- lin from all couniries for the year ending June 30, 1916, were valued at $100,000 less than the shipments from | England -alone the year before. much we deplore the material for the However stringency in raw paper market brecught about bv the. European war, it should not be for-! gotten that to the beneficent results of a battle fought nearly twelve cen- turies ago an be traced the introduc- tion of the art of paper making . to the western world. China is credited with having nurtured the genius who first conceived the idea of a writing material made from fibrous pulp, and some investigators profess to have found evidences that paper existed in the Celestial kingdom at least two centuries before the Christian era. Whether these claims of centuries of priority will endure the light of further research, or whether they will be discredited just as have been the same nation’s claim to the invention of the mariner’s compass and gun- powder, the fact is fairly well estab- lished that when the Arabs defeated a raiding army of Celestials before the gates of Mamarkand, in the middle of | the eighth century, they captured a party of Chinamen who were skilled paper makers. It was from this city of Russian Turkistan, once the capi- tal of that most ruthless of Mongol princes, Tamerlane, that the art of | spread throughout these captives Asia Minor and northern Africa into Moorish Spain and finally into Italy, where the first extensive factories were established in 1276 at Fabriano, demanded | seven distinct chemical processes be- | still a center of the paper industry in { fore the pure radium finally is given | southern Europe. The Arabs and their Persian as- sistants are supposed to have used flax and cotton in the manufacture of their first paper, and subsequently rags were extensively utilized. Cot- ton and linen rags are still the basis of the best grades of paper, but the article used by the newspapers is made exclusively’of wood pulp. In the United States black spruce, hemlock, aspen and poplar are the most widely used woods, while in Europe the Scotch fir supplants the hemlock. England manufactures much of her paper from esparto or Spanish grass, which has been quite extensively im- ported by that country from North Africa during the last fifty years. Germany and France use quantities of rye, wheat, oat and barley straw in the paper-making industry. The wide- ly used “India paper” comes chiefly from England, Germany, France, Bel- gium and Italy. Its name is a misno- mer and was given to a soft quality of Chinese paper introduced into England in the eighteenth century but, like many other commodities brought from tke Far East during that period, it was creaited to India. It is manufactured from rags and its opacity is due largely to the admix- ture of mineral matter with the fibre. Its thinness is due to special process- es of “beating.” Up to the closing years of the eighteenth century ull paper was made by hand, sheet by sheet, but in the same year that Napoleon fought the battle of the pyramids, Louis Robert, a humble workman in the pa- per mill of Didot, at Essones, south of Paris, invented a machine for mak- ing paper in an endless web. This in- vention was developed ir England by the two Fourdriniers, who lost a for- tune in their pioneer work. Their names, however, are perpetuated in the paper-making machines of the present day. The first American paper mill was established by Willian Rittenhouse in Roxborough, near Philadelphia, just eighty-three years after the first permanent English settlement in the United States at Jamestown. —For high class Job Work come to the WATCHMAN Office. i sets them on fire The stumps and | the loose logs that do not burn are | left undisturbed. The land is ready to plant—no plow | or harrow or disk ever c