assertive tones pronounced a benediction. Thereupon began the most wearisome, in some respects the most interesting, and I think the strangest service I ever attended, original not so much in any new feature as in the ingenious combination of features from many sources: the canticles, hymns, and vestments of the Church of England, the priestly dominance of the Roman Catholic Church, the assumption of divine healing of the Christian Scientist, the reference to immersion of the Baptist sects, the exhorting of the Methodist evangelist, and the promise of the theocratic community of the Mormon. The audience seemed to submit with pleasure to the domineering autocracy of their leader. When he gave out the notices, he spent three-quarters of an hour in setting forth the virtues of his various business ventures-the publishing business of Zion, the great Zion excursion, and the subscription for stock in the new Zion city lots.

"Keep the books of Zion for people to look at, but don't lend! The great mass of mankind are great book-keepers. . . . You have great readiness to borrow books, especially when you can buy them yourselves, you wretches! . . . The Zion's Banner' will be the news, eliminating the lies that are common in the papers. . . . This will give me a chance to deal with things that I haven't felt justified in dealing with in the 'Leaves of Healing,' and I shall deal with them, too; I've never been afraid of men. . . . We guarantee no land of the first series after May 31st, and the second series will be higher in price. . . . We have a right to charge the laggards for indolence. . . . Pray for me about this. I don't like to talk this business, but it is my only chance, and this is God's business, isn't it?"

"Yes," came the answer from some thousand throats.

"Prairie schooners are on their way to Zion city. Some are staying on the land. People coming from England, Germany, Australia. In Canada from a little country place twenty are coming. You Chicago people will wake up to find your selves outside. I'll be rather glad to see you in the outer darkness, weeping and wailing and gnashing your teeth to see the Canadians on the inside. I'm not much of a business man-I'm an inno

A lady got

cent-that's what they say. Dr.' Dowie to pray about selling landand she sold it, not at a loss either, but as a gain! . . . Give your wife half, that is if she's in Zion; if not, don't give her anything. . . . Overseer Jane Dowie, pray for her. Can I send her a cablegram sending her love?"

"Yes," came the reply from the audience, like a distant roll of thunder, as they held up their hands.

"A young Frenchman in Paris has given up tobacco, wine, swine's-flesh, and gambling. I want you to pray for him.” "Yes."

"Some of these impudent papers say I have a mighty soft place. Huh! When my wife comes, she'll back me up. Now, then! Have you forgotten all I've said already? . . . Next Lord's Day there will be baptism by triune immersion.”

This may give an idea of his methods of financing his enterprise. It did not sound much like the ordinary appeal for church or missionary funds.

In his sermon, which he delivered in front of his pulpit with much shouting, stamping, and pounding, he displayed what his followers doubtless interpreted as moral passion, but what sounded much like savagely exuberant delight in the rhetoric descriptive of the evils he denounced.

". . . Don't talk as if death were good. It is hateful, hellish, king of terrors; it never blesses, but always curses. The false teachings of the apostate churches have led people to think that death is of God. It is from the devil.

I plead for love that will overcome lust, life that will overcome death, health that will overcome disease. May God give us that love !"

"Amen," fervently responded the audi

it after him. During this prayer, as during every other prayer in the service, the demeanor of the congregation was extraordinarily devout.

"Did you mean it?" "Yes."

now have their headquarters in Iowa. She expounded the Scriptures to show that triple immersion and laying on of hands, both ordinances only as properly administered, were essential to salvation. She showed me the room in which the

The hymn, a long one, was sung five times over before all the chorus (there must have been some two hundred and fifty) disappeared.

When I left, at the end of three hours, a large part of the people were departing; but even then a negro was preparing on the platform the utensils for the communion service that was to follow. I was glad to get into the clearer air outside, and, by a brisk walk along the edge of the lake, to shake off the feeling of helplessness that seemed to be contagious in that fold of submissive sheep.

It was also in Chicago that I had a glimpse of the seamy side of irresponsible religious Cæsarism. The sign on a building announced that here was a mission of the Reorganized Church of Latter-Day Saints. A little girl in a torn and dirty dress answered my summons. She conducted me through a bare, dirty hallway to a room upstairs and called for her mother. A woman, whose hair hung down in strings on either side of her rather sallow face, and whose dress was almost as torn and dirty as the girl's, appeared and asked me what I wanted. When she learned that I was interested in her religion, the expression of her face changed from that of vacant weariness to an earnestness that was almost luminous. For an hour, it may have been longer, she talked to me of her faith. She explained how wicked had been the lapse of the Mormons from the teachings of Joseph Smith; how the remnant of true believers had been basely defrauded of their name as the real Church of Latter-Day Saints; how impossible it was for more than one genuine Church of Christ to exist; and how it happened that, because of the introduction of false revelations in favor of polygamy, the one true Church had been reduced to the body of believers who, forced to call themselves Reorganized, and commonly known as "non-polygamous Mormons,"

departure put into my hands some tracts and leaflets setting forth the doctrines upon which the hope of the world depends. A masterful mind with some ingenuity in constructing dogmas by a new juxtaposition of Scripture texts-that seems to be one element common to all these "new" sects. The other element is furnished by that host of people who like to be mastered because it saves them trouble.

"We believe that the canon of Scripture is not full, but that God, by his Spirit, will continue to reveal his word to man until the end of time." This statement, which is from one of these pamphlets of the "non-polygamous Mormons," represents the crude form of a belief which has never been wholly without voice in the Christian Church. the Christian Church. That the Holy Spirit is always directly inspiring the words and the acts of believers was the conviction of the Christians in the Apostolic age, and the distinguishing doctrine of the Montanists. In modern times it has found most adequate expression with the Friends. So wide has been their influence, and so happily has this influence, unpolemically exerted, been reinforced by modern conceptions of the immanence of God, that to-day the idea of the "Inner Light," in fact if not in name, has been accepted among all bodies of Christians. It has even been formulated into harsh creeds of recent manufacture, to do service for some new cult and to justify some Arcana Coelestia, or Book of Mormon, or Key to the Scriptures. In the meantime, as this belief has become less distinctive of the Friends, it has apparently lost its hold upon them. I tried to discover the reason for this from a Friend minister. He had remarked that the Friends as a body had not accepted the conclusions of the higher criticism of the Bible.

"Then they believe in the infallibility of the Bible, and accept it as the ultimate authority?”

Yes," he said, emphatically, "we hold close to the Bible."

Cathedral on the heights. Of all the places I have seen in the United States,

"Yes. Shakespeare and Longfellow were inspired in a sense, but not as the holy men of old."

"How about the holy men of to-day?" "Yes, they are inspired, we believe, but are capable of error."

approach it in quaintness. The old Moravian hostelry, the old burying-ground with gravestones lying flat on the ground and placed in strict order according to the dates of death without regard to family groups, the low stone buildings— everything in the old portion of the town

He made a reference to the changes in revising the King James Version, the pertinence of which I did not understand, and concluded by saying that the errors were so slight that they occasioned no difficulty. Then, after a discussion as to the source of authority for the acceptance of the canon, he finally dismissed the subject by saying, "In the providence of God, the Bible is here as we find it." The only conclusion to which this conversation could lead was that the desire for an outward and visible repository of authority was too strong for a faith in an Inner Light that was originally less a dogma than an experience.

Like the Friends, the Moravians seem to find reason for separate existence as a religious body, not in doctrinal distinctions, but in historic continuity. The sign that even this reason is no longer as strong as it was is evident in the waning of some of their customs. Many of their observances, however-for instance, the Easter service at dawn in the old buryingground, or the announcement of deaths by chorales played by four trombonists from the church belfry, the second chorale being always that designated by custom as appropriate to the age of the one whose death is announced-are still vigorously maintained, and are certainly very beautiful. Compared with the competing and disputatious sects of the Middle West, the Unitas Fratrum-as the Moravian body is strictly called as I saw it in eastern Pennsylvania, seemed to have a peculiarly untroubled and untroubling faith.

Bethlehem, as I approached it in the train that ran along the picturesque Lehigh River, reminded me somewhat of Durham, in England-only there was not the squalor that disfigures so many cities of the older country, and there was no

ious customs, the musical atmosphere, the historic liturgy, and the traits of sturdiness, simplicity, and self-forgetfulness in the character of its people. I remember one lane in particular, flanked by high brown walls, over which hung the limbs of fruit-trees in full blossom. Not half the old-world charm of the town has ever been described. On the other hand, the people have been so frequently caricatured by over-enthusiastic reporters that they have come to be thought of as peculiarly different in manners and dress from other folk. An editor on whom I called showed very plainly that he was tired of being "written up." Ministers were at first unresponsive to my inquiries. A vivacious and charming member of the Moravian Church, the wife of a mechanical engineer of the iron-works, told me a story illustrative of the widespread popular fanciful notion as to the queerness of the Moravian people. She was one of a number of young people, all Moravians, who were among the guests at a dance in Philadelphia. During the evening she was introduced to a lady of evident intelligence, who, after some conversation, exclaimed: "Oh, have you seen them?"

"Seen whom?"

"Why, the Moravians. They say a party of them are to be here to-night. I'm just dying to see them. Why, you know, it will be just the strangest thing! They wear a peculiar costume and all that. I wish they would come. I don't see what makes them so late."

She was talking to a Moravian and did not know it.

In one respect the Moravians are a peculiar people. Their church music is a heritage they jealously and enthusiastically prize. Nowhere else in America has the St. Matthew "Passion" of Bach been sung, as it was intended to be, not for a concert performance but for a

church service, with the chorales taken up by a congregation of people who had been familiar with them from childhood. It was in Bethlehem that the so-called B minor Mass of Bach had its first complete rendition. During my visit rehearsals for a three-day Bach music festival to be given by a chorus from the community were in progress. I have heard technically better singing of Bach, but none so convincingly genuine. The sight of the children who were in the chorus, and the sound of their voices, were alone almost enough to make one a convert to the faith.

The account of the ceremonies of the church and of the preaching of the ministers was interesting. So were the state

A

ments which two ministers made independently concerning the social conditions among the workingmen in the iron-works, the rebuffs which the church had met with from the representatives of the owners, the effect of the breaking up of family life by modern conditions of labor, the consequences following the influx of foreigners, and the relation of the university to the community. But the one impression which I carried away from Bethlehem was of a community whose character had been created and was still molded by a religious faith which was retaining much of its pristine power through the use of traditional, but vitalizing, forms of great beauty.

NEW sort of agriculturist is coming into notice the sugar-beet farmer. He is as distinctive as is the wheat-raiser or the ranchman, and because his industry is yet to some degree in an experimental stage, keen interest attaches to his methods and accomplishments. This Nation has a 66 sugar-beet belt." Its limits are defined by climatic conditions chiefly, though even within its boundaries great variations exist. This belt includes southern New York, the northern parts of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska; the southern half of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota; sections of Colorado, Kansas, Utah, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon, and the coast side of California. Within this territory, however, may be found a vast amount of soil on which the industry will not flourish, owing either to the land itself or to its surroundings, while in other States of like latitude may yet be discovered suitable conditions.

acres of beets annually are necessary to make a factory profitable, and there is always a mutual understanding before one is erected. Contracts are made with farmers, and, in the newer lands, assistance is given to colonists to insure the raising of beets in large quantities.

Sugar-beet raising calls for careful farming. Wheat, once properly sown, depends for its success on the weather; corn, once well on its way, comes to maturity without further attention from the farmer; so it is with many of the more important crops of the agricultural sections of the country. Beet-raising comes nearer to the realm of truck-farming, and takes not only intelligent management in its general supervision, but requires much hand labor and minute attention throughout the season. Because of this it has seemed formidable to American farmers, and they have but recently made rapid advances in its development.

for which no remedy has been devised, though experiments with machines that will bunch the seeds are under way.

These rows, eighteen inches apart, are cultivated until three or four leaves show on each plant. Then comes the most wearisome task of the season. Men, women, boys, and girls are engaged to go over the fields thinning the rows by hand so that the beets are seven to eight inches apart and every weed is destroyed. The weeders get about five dollars an acre; one man can weed a quarter of an acre a day. To obtain labor for this part of the task is frequently difficult. The whole territory supplying a factory must be weeded and thinned practically at the same time. The work is tiresome and unattractive. In the Western experiments the colonization of foreign families is sought, that the children and women may be induced to enter the fields-something not easy to accomplish in a farming community purely American. Nearer the cities help is abundant. The long lines of weeders cleaning a field make a novel sight, and the land is left behind as fair as a well-kept garden.

The thinning is finished by July 10, and then is the critical period. Out of the sunshine and the rain, with the soil giving its aid in perfecting the plant, is made sugar, the upper part of the beet being first influenced and later the entire root becoming rich in saccharine matter. Two more cultivations come at this period, these with horse-drawn implements that care for three or four rows at once. Then the work is done until harvest in late autumn, except that another hoeing will be necessary to clean the field of lategrown weeds.

The beet harvest is unique. Into it enters much hand labor again. Horses do the first of the task. Long, narrow plows, reaching down below the bottoms of the longest roots, are drawn between the rows, loosening the soil and lifting the beets partly in their bed. Other implements that will bring the beets to the surface are sometimes used, but it is difficult to operate in that way without bruising the tender beet.

After the soil is loosened men go along and, grasping the tops, pull out the plant; with sharp knives the tops are cut from the beets; the roots go into one pile,

ready for hauling to the factory, the tops into another. If the farmer lives at a distance from the factory, he may load his beets on cars, weighing as he delivers; otherwise he takes them to sheds alongside the factory. A few beets are picked at random from each load and serve as samples, being sacked for testing. Single roots often weigh seven pounds, and fourpound roots are frequent.

The farmer is paid on a basis of the sugar in the beets-$4 a ton for beets testing twelve per cent. sugar, and higher as the sugar content increases. Particularly fine beets may bring $6.50 a ton. The average is under $5, but where, as on the irrigated lands, farmers in good years harvest twenty tons or more from an acre, the income is large. The farmer is, in a sense, at the mercy of the sugarfactory in that he has no other market; hence he makes his contracts for several years in advance.

Properly conducted and under favorable circumstances, sugar-beet production is profitable. Take it, for instance, in the Upper Arkansas Valley in eastern Colorado, where are located some of the largest factories of the Nation. The soil and sunshine seem made for sugar production, and the melting snows of the Rocky Mountains send down abundant water to moisten the fields. Farmers there have netted $125 an acre in a single year. Three men can care for ten acres, except in the weeding season, making the labor bill small.

The average production of the United States last year was 9.6 tons per acre, selling at the factory for $48 to $54. The average cost of production was $30 an acre on land not moistened by irrigation, and exclusive of the State bounty given in several commonwealths to encourage the industry. The bounty is usually about $1 a ton for beets of a given sugar content. The net profit, $18 to $24 an acre, is more than the producer of wheat or corn receives, and is upon fully as stable a price return. The irrigator raises more and better beets, but it costs him more to do it; he gains in freedom from climatic variations that may deprive his crop of moisture when it is needed most.

The season of 1889 was the first in which this country produced more than