1 10 THE IRPJGA TION A GE. 



can soil, and it produces 81,582,810 pounds have passed them. The French, in spite 



a year. Altogether, this makes 1,311, 243,474 of all their appetite for sweets, eat but 30 



ponnds, or about 16 of the 66 pounds our pounds of sugar a year; the Germans, 23; 



people want. We shall have to look to the Spaniards, 11; Russians, 10, and the 



Cuba and the Philippines for the remain- Italians, 7. 



ing 50 pounds, or else buy it from Germany. At even so low an average as two cents 



The Philippine crop has been estimated in per pound our expenditures for sugar will 



times of peace at 135,000,OuO pounds. No exceed $100,000,000 a year, or about 



doubt that, as soon as we have established $2,000,000 a wepk. It is highly important 



peace there, and Americans see the great that this enormous sum go as far as possi- 



opportunities, the sugar crop will be in- ble in directions from which we will be 



creased many fold, as will be the case with most likely to receive some return good. 



Cuba, especially, as we shall make such If our own citizens can not raise this sugar 



arrangements as will admit the sugar of at home, let us encourage them to do the 



those islands on more advantageous terms work in the Spanish islands, so that Amer- 



than German beet sugar. The English ican money will still go to Americans, 

 formerly beat us as sugar-eaters, but we 



Praise, and the world will heed you; 



Blame, and it heeds you not; 

 For a word of praise in the memory stays, 



Never to be forgot: 

 Or, if chiding be remembered, 



It is only for its sting, 

 But loving words, like songs of birds, 



Are forever echoing. 



Look for the fragrant roses, 



Not for the thorns and weeds. 

 For the crimson sky, when night is nigh, 



And the golden sun recedes, 

 Glistens the Starry Dipper, 



Sparkles the Milky Way, 

 Through midnight trees, the clear eye sees, 

 . Glimpses of dawning day. 



Kisses, but not upbraidings, 



The smile, but not the frown, 

 For the love must be deep that afloat will keep, 



If harshness press it down; 

 Like the falling dews of Summer, 



Or the welcome autumn rain, 

 Kind words may flow from the lips, and go 



To the skies of the heart again. 



Praise, and your friend will hear you, 



Blame,^and he heeds you not; 

 For a word of praise in the memory stays, 



Never to be forgot; 

 But if chiding be remembered, 



It is only for its sting, 

 And loving words, like songs of birds, 



Are forever echoing. Julia May. 



