A Trip to Cuba. IV

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fifty dollars per thousand feet. The best quality, however, brings from four hundred dollars to fifteen hundred dollars per thousand feet. The mahogany trees generally stand far apart, in the midst of great jungles. Some of the trees are as much as ten feet in diameter, and are cut from ten to fifteen feet from the ground. One of the most noted trees in Cuba, as in other tropical lands, is the palm. There is a great variety, but the royal palm is the one of greatest importance. From it are made baskets, cooking utensils, canes, and ib is also used for building material.

It keeps out the cold in the winter, and the heat in the summer. Its branches make good thatching, and its tufts may be eaten like cauliflower; its seeds will fatten hogs, and its fibers may be wet and folded and worked into cordage. In 1894, before the recent war, there were more than one million cattle on the island; in 1898, they had been reduced to seventy- five thousand. This industry is taking on new life, and a number of men have recently gone over there from Wisconsin, and bought up large tracts of land. The grass is rank, and of excellent quality. The richness of the soil is, perhaps, as well shown in the growth of potatoes, as in any other crop, as two or three crops of Irish potatoes may be grown every year, and the yield is very large. In the growth of the sweet potato, the land and the climate are unsurpassed. It is said that a crop of sweet potatoes may be grown every forty days. This may be some exaggeration, but the numerous crops of sweet potatoes that may be grown every year is something remarkable. The island has no manufacturing industries, except the cigar and cigarette factories. It will be seen from the foregoing that Cuba is a land of great opportunities. Its resources are apparent to many Americans who are availing themselves of the present opportunity to purchase lands and engage in raising fruits that are common to our southern states. The increasing activity of American enterprise, and the investment of American capital, have given rise to some jealousy, on the part of the Cubans toward the Americanos. In the end, however, the Cubans will learn the value of American ingenuity, in developing the wealth of their beautiful island. (to be continued).

TWO PATHS. BY GRACE INGLES FROST, SALT LAKE CITY.

I.

When the 6:30 express from New York pulls out of L — one ,

evening in early June, it leaves behind it two young men who for a couple of years have been absent from this their home town. John and James Brooks have been attending school in the metropolis, but it is evident that the whirl and bustle of the great city has not in the least diminished their love for the quiet country town, where they first opened their eyes in mortality, if one is to judge by the expression of pleasure depicted upon their faces. John's face is especially radiant; nor does he lose any of his enthusiasm when they find that they must walk to their home. Although the roads are thick with dust, it matters not to him. He is fond of everything this country contains. There lives one, in this little town, whom he loves so dearly that he is counting every step which lessens the distance between them. His sweet-heart? No; his mother. The dear mother who sacrificed so much for the sake of her sons. The one who for months and years has been practicing every economy, in order that her boys might gain a college education. As the distance between the depot and themselves grows wider, they hasten their foot-steps, until one could imagine them to be walking for a wager; and, finally, when a certain white gate is reached, they do not stop to unlatch it, but clear it at one bound. Widow Brooks is anxiously watching for her boys. They are

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not well over the gate before she hurries down the steps of the rambling old farm house, with hands outstretched, her face illumined with mother's love. They meet midway in the daisy-bordered path. "Mother," the boys murmur, and tears of joy course over the cheeks that are kissed again and again, as the one thus addressed whispers, "My boys, my darling boys!" A moment she presses each head fondly against her breast; then she remembers that they have been traveling all day, and part of the night. She thinks of the supper that has been waiting for more than an hour, and hurries them to the house, bidding them go to their rooms, and remove travel- stains, while she puts the evening meal on the table. When they come down stairs, everything is in readiness. "I did not realize, until I smelled your home-cured ham, how hungry I am, Mother," says John. "Well, I'm pleased that you can be satisfied with farm products," the mother replied. "Satisfied! I'll tell you, Mother, we've both been longing for a piece of your brown bread and some ham and eggs, for weeks, haven't we James?" They are a merry trio, this mother and her stalwart sons. The boys have comical stories to relate concerning their school life, as well as serious ones, and the old house is made to ring with their laughter, as they recount some boyish pranks. The mother's face unconsciously assumed an expression of pride as she listened. How she has longed for this hour. It is

not strange that her heart swells with pride and joy, for two finerlooking or more intelligent young men than John and James Brooks, it would indeed be hard to find.

It is not until they are leaving the table that her sons notice that Susan, who was maid- of- all- work when they left home, has not as yet put in an appearance. The boys tell their mother that they want her to leave everything to Susan, this evening, and devote her time to them. She replies: "I haven't a house-maid now, I was forced to cut down expenses as much as possible."