EASTER. Easter, smile o' the year! Briiiger of music and flowers! Easter, x\ hose skies are clear With spring days' lengthened hours! What shall we say that is new? What shall we sing that is old? Sermon or sonnet or chant Gilding refinded gold. Yet, (Jh Brightness returned, Well may I glorify theel Never the world again Sunless and chill shall I see. Quickened from clay, the ree 1 Springs from the glow abov •; Up from my heart has leipol The shining Jily of lov\ Peal, Oh carillon, peal Every change to be hear 1! Sing in the chapel, choir! Trill in your meadow, bir I! Then who kn ?elest in church (Thy thought from earth aDar!) My Easter offering, love,— To the altar of thy hearl! —E. Irenoeus Stevenson TllE OLD WELL SWEEP, BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES. OU ain't goin' to take t ' ,at well sweep, away, Jot ha m—th e well I||? sweep that was there when I was a baby? Don't do it, Jotham— hS* Squire Sedgick beckoned to his son to lay down the uplifted axe. Mrs. Sedgick stood in the doorway, with a fat, old-fashioned tumbler and a glass-towel in her hand. Ellen, the daughter, paused in the act of tying up au obstreperous }oung honey suckle shoot; and old Grandsir Sedgick, leaning on his staff, with his gray hairs blowing in the fresh spring wiud, look ing not unlike one of the ancient Di uids. "Why, father, we didu't know you'd 1 c ire,"said the squire. "It's a rickety! old thing, anyhow—" "Well, so'm I a rickety old thing!" quavered the octogenarian. "But you wouldn't go at me with an nxe and a mallet, wtuld you? I u-ed to draw water with that well sweep afore I stood as high as the curb." "Well, well," soothingly uttered the squire, "if you've any feelin' about it, it shan't be touched! Only, senc3 the pipes have been laid from the spring up on Savin Hill, Eun : ce, she thought —" | "I don't keer what Eunice thinks!" ! said Grandsir Sedgick. "The pipes from 1 Savin Spring ain't nothin' to me. I'd i ruther hev a glass o' clear water from the old well than all the springs in crea- 1 lion I" "So you shall, father—so you shall!" said Mrs. Sedgick, picking up the knotted cane which the old man had dropped, and tenderly guiding his foot steps back to the cushioned chair on the porch, which he had just left. But Ellen tossed her much be-crimped head. "It's the only well sweep left in Ken- ! dal,"muttered she. "Horrid old fashioned j thing! Everybody calls our home 'the place with the well sweep.' It's too bad I" "Hush, dearl" said Mrs. Sedgick. "Qrandsir's a very old man, aud lie's never got over the shock of Dora's ruu uing away." Deaf though he was, the old man's car caught a word here aud there, when it was least expected that he would. lie looked quickly arouftd. "Dora," he repeated—"'.ittle Dora! My son Adam's daughter, with the black eyes and the real Sedgick features! There ain't but a few things that I care for left in this world, and Dora was one of 'em. What have you done with Adam's orphen gal—eh, Eunice? The gal that hadn't no one hut mo to look after her?' A distressed look crept over Mrs. Sedgick's kindly face, she hesitated visibly. "It wasn't our fault, lather," said she. "Dora was always a restless child, and she somehow couldn't seem to be con tented in this quiet place." The old man shook his leonine white head. "I dunno nothin' about that," said he. "All I know is I miss little Dora, and I want her. Jotham," turning ab ruptly to his stalwart son, "where's Dora?" "I don't know auy more than you do, father," said the squire, leauing up against the porch pillar, and saying to wife in a lower tone: "What has set him oil thinkin' of Dora just now?" "Thinkin'! Ain't I always thinkin' of her?" piped up the old mm. "Adam's gal, that was left to us to take care of: and Adain was always the best of the family! You nagged her, and you wor rited of her, and she was too high sperited to stand it, and now she's gone, au' you say you don't know nothin' about it. En"—and his voice grew thriller— "that was what Cain said, mind you, when the Lord asked him where his brother was! That's why I set here on the porch, where I can see half a mile down the road, to get a night of Adam's gal, Dora, coinin' back where she be longs !" The three lookers-on glanced un easily at each other. Martin Sedgick, the SOD, flung his axe emphatically on the ground. "Grandair speaks the truth,'' said hr. "The house ain't itself since Dora went away." And he stalked gloomily down the hill, to where his handsome four-year old colt wns tied t3 the fence rail, await ing its daily exercise around the square. "Eunice," said Squire Sedgick to his wife that afternoon, "Martin is getting fcstlcss again, lie wants to go West." Mrs. Sedgick clasped her handc nery u> ly. "Martin—our only she cried. "lie was just beginning to be recon ciled to life on the form, TYbco Dors went awry," said the squire, dejectedly. "And it was she that reconciled him. Eunice—if we could get Dora back again? It's as my old father says—she was the luck of the house." Mrs. Sedgick burst into tears. "It wasn't my fault, Jotham!" she said. "I always liked the child, though she wasn't no more like our folks than a corn flower is like a squash blossom. But she and Ellen couldn't somehow agree. Ellen Always wanted Martin to marry Miss Brownloe, and she up one <1 ly and accused D:>raof settin' her cap for Martin, and Dora couldn't stand that; and when they appealed to me, I'm afraid I didn't take Dora's part quite 30 strong as I might hev done." "I knowed a woman's tongue was at the bottom of it all," said the squire, with some bitterness. "Poor Dora!" That night the whole Sedgick fam ily were aroused by a light blaze in the dooryard—the old-fashioned well sweep burning up. Grandsir, in hi 9 flannel dressing gown and knotted stick, his leonine head well outlined in the scarlet glow, looking more Druid-like than ever. "You done it o' purpose," said he, feebly shaking the stick at the assembled family, who were trembling in the door way. "You know you did. First Dora, and then the old well sweep. Tho only things I keered for in this world—and now they're both gone, an' I may as j well lie down and die!" "I didn't mean any harml" hysteri cally sobbed poor Ellen. "I was light ing a taper to seal a letter—Marian Brownlee always uses the new-fashioned colored wax to seal her letters—and it burned up too quick, and I flung it out of the window, but I never dreamed it would fall among the dead leaves around the old well curb and set it 011 tire! I didn't mean any harm! "' "Don't fret, father," said the squire. "We'll build it up ag'in—me and Mar tin—just exactly like it was before." The old man shook his head. "It won't be the same," moaned he— "it won't be the same! Nothiu's the same in this world!" And he took to his bed from that day. Poor Ellen hung down her head like a drooping lily. In neither case had she I intended any actual harm, but in both I instances she fe'.t acu ely responsible. Martin was making preparations logo 1 out West. Grandsir seemed to have lost ! all interest in the surrounding world. I Her mother went about with swollen j eyes and a pale face, and Squire Scd j gick sat by the hour on the front porch, looking as if he had lost his last friend. One violet-scented April afternoon, i however, Martin came home from the I city, whither he had been to purchase some absolute necessity for his travels, ; with a flat parcel under his arm. | "Look, mother 1" he said. ''lt's some thing for grandsir. I don't know but , what I've been extravagant, but I declare |to goodness I couldn't help it. The ' minute I set eyes on it, I thought of the ' dear old man lyin' up stairs in his bed. j It's a picture," he added, as Ellen came ' hurrying to his side—"an oil painting with a line gilt frame. Exictly like our I old well sweep that was burned down, I with the red barn in the distance, and 1 the sun settin' behind the woods, just as I've seen it go down times without end. You don't know how queer I felt wheu I saw it in the store window, and I went ■in and paid twenty dollars for it. I'd do without them campin' blankets and 1 the fur robe, mother; but I wanted I grandsir to have that picture." They hung it up ou the wall opposite the head of his bead, and when the old man waked from a nap, just as the sun -1 set beans shone over the mute canvas, he looked at it with a smile. 1 "It's our old well," said he, not cvinc ' ing the least surprise. "Just like I was j n-lookin' out of the window at it. I've got the well sweep back ag'in now, and I p'raps Dora'll come next. VVho knows?" And for the first tunc in a week, he l got up and dressed himself, and deigned | to give a sort of conditional approval to 1 the repairs going on in the burned dia j trict. | "It looks too Dew now," said he, ad -1 justing his "far-away" spectacles. "But p'raps in a year or two it'll be more weather-beaten an' nat'raMikc. I can allays look at the picter, though, when I want to see the old well sweep." Ellen pulled her brother's sleeve as he | stood inteutly regarding the bright little , oil painting on grandsir's wall, j "Martin," said she, "nobody ever I could have painted that picture by guess, j It is our old well sweep, and there's the ' very butternut tree and the broken shingles or. the barn roof. And don't you remember, Martin, how fond she used to be of painting?"' He turned suddenly around with an ir radiated face. "Why didn't I think of it before?" he cried. * * * * Mr. Solomon Feldman, sitting behind his desk rail in the darkest corner of the dark little art store, was startled from an abstruse financial calculation by the ques - tioning gleam of a pair of dark eyes close beside him. "Is it sold?" a soit voice timidly asked —"my 'O d Well Sweep?' I see it is gone from the window. Oh, 19 it possi ble that I can be so lucky as to have sold that picture?" Dora Sedgick wi s very plainly dressed. Her shoes uud gloves were umiiistably scabby; there was a certain pallor in her skin and sharpness in her features which told of a battle with the world, in which j she hail not as yet gained the ad vantage. But at that moment her face seemed transfigured with exultant joy. Mr. Feidman referred to h : s books. "Twenty dollars," said he, with lead | pencil between bis teeth. "Not a bad price for a beginner, and twouty-tive per cent, commission. Price of frame, five i dollars, and—and here is your ten dol- ' lars. You might as well send something ' else." A shadow from without made the lit tle gas lighted cubby hole look a degree dingier than before at this moment. "Could you give mo the name nnd nff dre93 of the person who painted the pic ture I purchase 1 yesterday—the 'Old Well Sweep?' " asked the voice of Martin Sedgick. The veiled and shawl wrapped figure turned suddenly around, so that the flickering gaslight shone full on the dark eyes and mobile lips. "Martin?" she cried out, with au ia voluntary step forward. "Dora—my Dora I No, you shall not draw away your hand!" he cried. "I've got you now, and I mean to keep you yes, always, Dora?" > * * • * "Eh?" cried Grandsir Sedgick, rous ing •himself from one of the frequent slumbers of extreme old age. "Dora, is it? Adam's little black-eyed gal? Well, 1 knowed she would come back before the Lord seat out a call tor me. Some thin* told me she would. They've fixed up the old well sweep, Dora, and you're back again 1 I hain't nothin' left to wish for now." "And she's promised to be ray wife," declared Martin, with his arm passed carelessly around the girl's slim waist. "And Martin's given up the Western plan," ecstatically cried Mrs. Sedgick, "and he's going to be content to settle down here for good and all." "And on, I'm so gla l!" gasped Ellen, while the squire slapped his son's bacli in an encouraging fashion. Old Grandsir Sedgick looked from one to tho other with a serene smile. "I hain't nothin* left to wish for," ho repeated.—Saturday Night. Facta About tho sk-letoii Industry Paris is the head-centre of tho skele ton trade. The mode of preparation it a very delicate operation. The scalpel is first called into requisition to retnovt the muscular tissues. Its work done, the bones are boiled, being care fully watched meanwhile that they may not be overdone. After this cannibalis tic procedure they are bleached in the sun. Evon then spots of grease are sjro to appear when they are exposed to heat. The French treat tho?e witn ether and benzine, securing thereby a dazzling whiteuess, which is a distinguishing mark of their skeletons. They are war- I ranted never to turn yellow and to stand . the te9t of any climate. New York in 1 midsummer is not too hot for them. ! They are put together by a master hand, j A brass rod with all the proper curva tures support the spinal column. Deli- I cate brass wires hold the ribs iu place. ! Hinges of the most perfect workmanship , give to the joints a grace! ul and lifelike j movement. Cleverly concealed hooks and eyes render disjunction at pleasu e possible. The whole construction plainly indicates the care and skill of an artist and connoisseur. Domestic skeletons arc generally tho woik of amateurs. Janitors in medic il colleges rescue bones from the dissectiu r rooms and cure and articulate them, j , They find purchasers among the students, i who on the completion of their stu lies resell the skeleton, if happily the market is not glutted. A second-ban 1 skeleton may thus be ha 1 at quite a reasonable figure—occasionally as low as #ls. The imported article, however, ranges from #SO to #4OJ. Tae very high-priced ones are value I be muse of the preserva tion of the nervous an 1 circulatory sys tems. Of course, they are beyond the reach of mo lost purses, anl, as a taste for medical anl scientific reseirch has not yet developed among the millionaires, very few S4OO skeletons are sold. They are always a special order. Avery fine French skeleton mly be ha 1 for sls J, and that is a9 high as t'ue general run of purchasers care to go. Skulls, bauds, and feet may bo pur chased separately, but to obtain a rib, an arm, or a collar bone, the whole affair must bo bought. A skull au I crv)33- boncs, suitable for decorative purposes, cost but sll. Tuo skull has but one cut; it may be pretty, it is not artistic. For $22 a skull that will unhinge and reveal its hidden contents is possible, j The bones of tho ear are co uprisod in this treasure.—Boston Ueral 1. The Mou id City's Name. The city having been na ncd ia honor of St. Louis many ruppose that the pro nunciation should be "St. Looie," be cause that is the correct pronunciation of the name of the saint. Louis is not an English name, and Hume, in angli cizing it in his history, always writes it "Lewis." All the French kings of the name "Louis" are "Lewis" in Hume's writings. Those who say "St. Looie" in speaking of the city may think it is more honor to the sainted King of France, for whom it was named, to U9e the French pronunciation. On the other hand, our language is English, and it is perfectly natural that there should bi those who hold that the name of our cities should be as nearly English as possible. The "St. Looie" pronuncia tion will never cause any one to forget why the city was named St. Louis, and if it is the most popular it should be generally accepted. Doubtless the ear liest settlers never said "St. Loois," but it is a long time siuce they were here.— St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Aris'oeratic Indians. There are no people in Maine in whom the aristocratic instiuct is stronger or who have more pride of birth than some of those who live in Oldtown Island. At present tho tribe is greatly agitated over the question whether au adopted child shall be adra tte-t to the inner circle of the island s Four Hundred. A year or two ago Mr. and Mrs. Sabatis Shea adopted a child from another tribe, the child being half white, as are many ot the Maine Indians. "Owing to the fact that the child is a half-breed and belonged to another tribe," says au island correspondent, "there is a certain class on the island that is trying to prevent her from having her lights, while Mr. Shea claims she is entitled to all the rights of the tribe, as she was legally adopted. There are other cases of simi lar nature, but no trouble was evcrinado before, and Mr. Shea proposes to light it out in a legal way."—LewUton (Me.) Journal, BEET SUGAR MAKING HOW SWEETNESS IS STOLEN FROM SUNBEAMS. Beet. Furnish 00 Per Cent, of All tho Sugar I'aod—No Olflvronro in Taste—lor tont <>r tho liKtustrj In This Country—Con verting tho Haw Material Into Fine Talile Sugar. Process of Manufacture. In ft recent number jgjrT' \of the Cosmopoli- J tan, 11. 8. Adams has an excellent ar tide on beet-sugar making. The writer says tiiat while tho -wF average person, if * asked to name the origin of his sugar -1 owl, would ro spond, "Sugar-cane, , of course, "this juicy i Spar- reed and all other sources combined, save ono, supply ( only about 40 per itcent, of the world's //|J : product; tho remain / * Ing and larger por fcg lion has been stolen from sunbeams, 9jF drawn through the K? veins of myriads and myriads of P loaves and stored ip up in the tapering f roots of one of tho 0 most unassuming 1 members of the veg | etablo world—the J beet; a plant that I R hides Its light under I h ft bushel, that even f in culinary art comes I p to tho front only as J 6 spring-salad and! \ boi le d beets—in j 1 short, a dweller in . v tilled flolds of which | but little might bo expected. Yet the | whole world is under lasting obll- i gations to this erstwhile garden- | truck for its abundant liberality | In supplying what has come to be considered one of tho prime necessities of life. Tell this sumo person that ho Is eating beet sugar, who ly or in part, and he will laugh at you, because he labors under the delusion that as com pared to sugar, 1. e., cane sugar, it is as oleomargarine 1o butter—in other words, a substitute of inferior quality, for of courso ho could toll beet sugar if ho saw it. Tho fact is, however, that there is no difference at all, except in name. Sucrose, or crystallizablo sugar, is identically tL* 6ame, whether extracted from cane, 66rghum, maple trees or boot-roots, and those people who | claim, on sampling the product > of tho latter, that they can j dlstingulsn "a vegetable taste," are giving too much credit to their I tongue and too little to thoir imagina- j tion. Europe floods us with it in a raw Btato; it reachos tho great Eastern re- J fineries, where also comes raw sugar | BUUAII BEETS. from the cano countries. These two | are inseparably combined, and the mix- | turo goes forth as reflnod sugar, far und ! near; and refined sugar it is, nothing i moro nor less. Nothing is distinguished, j as there is nothing to distinguish; so it ! must not be thought for a moment that i there is any sailing under falso co'ors. i Only this—that honor should be given where honor is duo. Up to the present j time the cane has received in tho ' popular inind the credit of being tho I original source of all this produat; but i now that tho sugar beet is struggling for | supremacy in American soil, its part in sweetening the world's eoffoo can no longer remain unacknowlodged. Tho amelioration of tho sugar-beet is a business in itself and would require a volume to discuss it thoroughly. In this country it is as yet quite undevel oped, but in Europe lias very long been carried out on tho most scientific and elnbornto scale. Having secured a seed that bids fair to produco a large yield of sugar, the grains, which resemble or dinary beet seeds in size and also in point of containing severa germs, are plantec as soon aTler the first week in April as the weather will permit, quito thickly, in rows e'ghtccn inches apart, tho soil, which must, be of the best, hav ing been plowed at least a foot in depth to allow tho tap-roots to penetrate as far as they wish, otherwise a deformed beet would result or tho top appear above ground and thereby accumulate an undesirable amount of salts. The roots shou'd bo of as perfect shape as possi ble, tho best typo being a long taper ing form with a marked twist, resembling that of a cork screw. When tho young plants show four leaves, they must be thinned out immediately, ono being left every six inches or so. After repeated cultivation the weeds will have disap peared and the broad leaves spread over the ground. Tho crop must then be "laid by," it being very essential that the foliage remain unbroken so that the full complement may be in readiness to aosorb the sugar that the sun showers down in reckless munificence. From now on each moment that they are basking in solar splendor the honeyed substance is mingling with the arterial fluid, and flowing on, seeks the subter ranean storehouses. When sufficiently ripe they must be topped and carried to the factory as soon a* possible. Arrived at the factory, the wagon or car louds arc weighed, tared, and as soon as a sample Basket for analysis has been selected, the roots are slored in sheds constructed for thut purpose. The latter aio V-shaped aud connect with the sugar-house by means of con duits through which a moderate flow of water carries the beets Into these they tumble hour after hour, day in and day out, almost incessantly, for a beet sugar mill must never flag during its necessarily short season—sav ono hun dred days' run each year. Tho hapless beets are borne along to their doom liko so many hogs to a Chicago slaugh ter-houso; on, on they go, in ma l eon fusion, as they are driven down tho length of the canals; through the factory wall they pass, are caught by a wheel and hurried with out ceremony into a huge gutter, where revolving arms sp. Ed thorn al ng, and —minus stones, dirt, etc.— delivers them 4o a spiral, which In turn carries them to tho washer proper. This le an lmmeaso barrel, with aides per* forated, In which thov arc wh rled round and round until they disappear beyond the farther edge, only to roappear bob bing along over a set of great whale bone brushes; then, with the last ves tigo of dirt removed, they loave tho washhouso and enter tho factory proper. Without a moment's rest they are caught in the buckets of an elevator and taken to tho top of tho house, where they fall poll-moll into tho receiver of an auto matic scale. When this is full It holds 1,100 pounds. It registers the number of the weighing and then precipitates its bulky load into tho slicor. A hand on tho lover, and tho great mass sinks liko melting snow, until, after tho lapse of several moments, nothing is left but a few chips dancing and coquetting with tho swiftly rotating blades on the bot tom of the recoptaclo. The beot-root, being composed of conoontric rings, each full of tiny cells, in which are stored tho solution of sugar and other matter, it is necessary in slicing to rupture as many of these ves sels as possible. To this end the knives used arc serrated and produce narrow THE WASHER. slices, which wo call "cossettes" for lack of an English name. As these leave the slieer they glide down a mov able feeder which supplies the diffusion I attery below. The latter consists of a circular arrangement of fourteen large cells, within whose walls the juice is extracted by what is known as tho diffusion process—in other words, tho withdrawal of it by soaking in water. Briefly, a current of warm water is turned on tho contents of No. 1; this circulates through the mass of cosscttes, | passes out by means of a false bottom into a pipe which enters tho top of No. 2, the mixture or juice and water being forced along by a flow of cold water, which follows it constantly. The temperature of the former is maintained by steam-chambers at tached to each cell. Tho same proc ess continues with tho other vats until No. 12 is reached, when tho circuit is ended, as one coll must be filling ull the time and an empty one stands ready always to take its place. No. lis then emptied by removing tho bottom, the wet mass being carried to presses, where tho surplus moisture is removed, the pulp going out of doors to be used as fodder. No. 2 then becomes first in a new circuit, and so on, the cossettes in each coll receiving twelve satura tions. After making the round,, the fluid, which on oxposure to the air has be come a deep purple color, Is convoyed to a measuring-tank noar-by, from which it flows to a mixer, where it is defecatod with lime and then pumped into a huge enrbonation tank in which tho lime and whatover foreign matter it may take with it are rendered insoluble, by means of carbonic-acid gas forced through it. Now tho carbonated juice is pumped to tho filter-press room, where, by means of an elaborate series of frames, hung with heavy cloths, It is Altered ami becomes a transparent fluid of a pale-yellow hue. Tho lime thus re lieved possesses about tho same con sistency us putty, and is conveyed at once into the yard, to be used the fol lowing soason as a mild fertilizer. The process of mixing, carbonation. and fil tration is then ropouted with a second set of machinery, less lime being used this time. This finished, tho juice is treated with sulphur (umes, filtered by means of me chanical llltors (bags being used in stead of folded cloths), passing into the quadruple ofTect, four groat boilers in which the larger part of the water con tained in it is evaporated by tho uso of steam. With a repetition of the sul phur treatment nnil mechanical filtra tion tho chdmlcal part of the manufact ure ceases, and the liquid, now'called "thick juice," is ready for crystalliza tion. This syrup is boiled in the vacuum pan, a receptacle contain'ng a copper coll heated by steam, until the proper crystals are obtained, which, with tho uncrystallized sugar, forms tho "masso cutte," an unprepossessing mixture, which the centrifugals aro able to ren der into white sugar in tiie brief space of a few minutes. These machines make about a thousand revolutions a minute, tho centrifugal force driving the molas ses through the porous walls of the re ceiver, leaving a solid layer of crystals clinging to the side. After being sprayed with water, tho dnmp sugar is released and conveyed to the drier, an immense tumbler whoso heated walls remove all moisture. It gradually works to the THE "DIFFUSION" BATTEBV. other end, the crystals falling like spray from a mountain waterfall as they make their rcugh journey, and, arriving there, drop through various-sized sieves into chutes under which yawn the open mouths of sacks. These are filled, and the sugar is ready for the market. The entire prooess of converting tho raw material into the finest grade of table sugar has thus gone on under the same roof, and the beets which were yester day in the farmer's wagon are to-day sacked and branded "extra fine" and loaded in cars for shipment. Not all beet-sugar factories refine their prod uct, but in America 1. Is a d stlnct ad vantage, partly because of their re moteness from tho great roflncrles and partly from commercial reasons. There are now in this country six plants, tho locations being Alvarado. Watsonvllle, and Chlno, in California; Grand Island and Norfolk, in Nebraska; aud I.ohl in Utah; tho last four of which were es tablished In 189U and IH9I. All have boon able thus far to cope with tho dis advantages that lie in the path ql the Industry in tho way of the solution of tho agricultural problem, and the busi ness may lo said to havo gained al ready a strong foothold. When It is considered that nioro than half a thousand of such factories, each costing several hundred thousand dol lars, would be required to supply tho sugar that we consume annually, it is not difficult to see that millions of dol lars now sent abroad year after year would be retained here, to say nothing of tho labor afforded to thousands of workmen, the advantage to a communi ty of possessing a factory that uses raw material whose production is a beneilt to the immediate neighborhood, and last, lut not least, the improvement in general agriculture that must necessa rily result from the pursuit of the very careful methods required in tho culturo of sugar-beet. But though still in its infancy in America, tho manufacture of beet sugar is not a new departure for us: it is only its success that is recent. The long list of failures datos back as far as 1430, which 19 about tlie time that It was placed on a permanent footing in Franco, and for nearly half a century its pathway was strewn with wrecks. Eight years later an attempt was made at Northfield, Mass., tho experiment of drying tho beet being tried, but the endeavor was unrewarded with success. Two decados and a half then passed before any move toward reviving the in dustry was made, when a plant was located at Chatsworth, 111. It managed to struggle along soveral years, but Anally went to tho wall. It was moved to Freeport, and later to Black Hawk, Wis., with only failures as tho-result. At last it found itself in Fond du Lac, in the same State. Hero its establish ment was attended with a measure of success, but the enterprise being ham pered by insufficient capital, and the opportunity occurring to increase the latter, it was once more removed, this time to Alvarado, Cal. . Again disaster, and Soquels was chosen lor a site, but after a time abandoned. Then tho fac tory at Alvarado was revived and a suc cess, which continues to this date, was reachod. Later on, tho plant at Wat sonvillo was erected. There is a vast belt stretching from the Atlantic to tho Pacific, and of no mean width, which invites the culture of tho sugar-beet und promises success almost from the start, if experiments thus far made can be relied upon. Soil and climate are there: careful culture will come when farmers realize that the brain must be used in tillage. As for sunbeams, the great illuminator is not chary of them. BLEW ITSELF UP. A Cinnamon Hear'* Iniiulsitiveness and Itn Result. What may bring a man misfortune in ono place may prove his salvation In another. This is illustrated in tho case of a construction hand on the line of the Great Northern Railroad, Montana. Jim Robinson, who was known as Dynamite Jim, was discharged by the contractor of the railroad for the reason that his habit of always carrying dyna mite with him caused a disastrous ox plosion. Jim, thus thrown out of a job, started for Choteau, eighty mil* s dis tant. Ho was supplied with bio blanket, a small basket of provisions and the inevitable dynamite. The first evening ho encamped neuth tho shade of a Cot tonwood tree, lighted a firo and was leisurely taking luncheon, when he heard a roar that caused him to spring to his feet. Looking, he saw coming toward him at a rapid gait and with mouth wide open a huge cinnamon bear. He gave a bound for the cotton wood tree, which he rapidly climbed. Before the bear reached tho troo Rob inson had climbed into a fork, and, throwing his arm 9 around a limb, clung to it with grim determination, while tho bear put his huge forep&ws against the trunk and shook tho tree like an aspen. Failing to shako ltobinson out of tho tree tho bear uttered several deep growls, and then went sniffing toward tho Aro and began to eat Robinson's little store of provisions. Robinson took advnntage of the bear's absence, and, getting a rope out of his po ket, tied himself firmly to tho tree. Alter devouring Robinson's supper tho bear began to tear tho blanket, in which ho found a hard, shiny substance, which ho tried to eat, but Andlng it too hard he dropped it between this two foro paws and then brought it down with a smash on a rock besido the firo. A ter rific explosion rent the air, while bear, tons of earth and pieces of lock went skyward like a flash. Tho boar had exploded a stick of dynamite. A party of hunters was ottractod by tho explo sion, and found Jim in the tree un harmed, but unconscious. Ho soon recovered. Only a few pieces of flesh remained of the bear. A 11 i?' progress in the past, and like any hidden foe it has been more \Sajr -'? powerful because it " \ f ' has not been recog- /) \ nixed by (he inven- / N tors of the world / / \. They have spent /\? * their time in im- / sr ■, 'proving the ma chine, searching for a lighter metal or a # more compact motor, . or more efficient storage battery, regardless of the fact that almost any well-designed ma chine would fly if properly managed. The inventor suggests that schools be established for the teaching of aero- Illllt>i IN BOSTON.—Tourist —I'd like a conveyance this afternoon at 4 o'clock. Liveryman—Yes, sir. l)o you mean a vehicle or a blank legal form for the conveyance of reti estate.— Pittsbiirgr Dispatch. Small-Fox in Wall Paper. 44 Many years ago a person wai iick of small-pox in a farm house in the country town of Groton, and after the patient recovered the dwelling was fumigated and repapcred. Ira Chester and family now dwell in the house. The paper was removed a week or so ago, and presently Mr. Chester's daughter was stricken with fmall-pox. In the opinion of the phy sician the germs of the disease were doimant in the walls of the room." The above clipping from the Cincinnati Emjuirer makes good the claims of sani tarians, that all disrate germs rind a hid ing place in wall paper, with its vegetable paste to hold it on the wall, and ita animal glue to hold its colors; that these, to say the least, are not the best materials with which to cover so much space around us as the walls in which we live and sleep, and that paper and glue are great absorbents of mois ture, of which every per-on throws ofl a certain number of ounces in exhala tioi.s every day, and that such decaying material as glue and paste gives off de leterious gases in such small quantities that we do not discover them, though those who study it can smell it in most rooms papered, and especially where a number of layers of paper have been | as ed upon each other. S.nitariaus claim that these conditions have mote to do with our ill health than we are aware of; that such a state of things in the room in which we live sf fects us more lor better or worce than does a change of climate; that it would be cheaper, at least, to try a change of room or oue coated with some ncn-de caying material, belore going to the ex pense aud trouble of a change of climate,^ §IOO Reward. §IOO. The readers of this paper will be pleased' te learn that there is at least one dreaded disease that bcient-e lwis been able to cure in all its stages, and that is catarrh. Hall's Catarrh Cure is the only positive cure now known to the medical fraternity. Catarrh being aeon stitutioual disease, requires a constitutional treatment. Hall's Cut a rrh Cure is talqeu in ternally, acting directly upon the bloOd and mucous surfaces of the sybtem, thereby de stroying tho foundation of the disease, and giving tho patient strength by building up ths constitution and assisting nature in doinar its work. The proprietors Lave so much faitn in its curative powers 1 hat they offer One Hun died Dollars for anv caso that it fails to cure, Send for list of testimonials. Address F. J. CHENEY A Co., Toledo, Q. Sold by Druggists, 76c. A Complete Newspaper Cor fine fen*. 37 it; I'ittfilniruli ChntnicJr-Trleurnjtli is sold b> ail News A Kent* an I de.lvere.i by Carrier I everywhere, for One Cm/1 copy or Six Cenl\% week. It contain- daily. 11M lew of world, receiving as It itww, the report < of bull, the Associnted Press and 111 • I'liite I Press. N other pan r which sells for Otis Cent receives both of those reports, lis Sporting. Financial Fashion,and Household Departments are m* •qualed, yrder \t {rogj yoqr s*4Wi Anqgl,