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®I)C (Georgia tDccklij,
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THE ECHO OF THE ALPS.
)fy heart is wandering to the West,
With swift and noiseless flight,
To seek its eagle in bis nest,
And pluck a feather from his breast,
Beneath the Wings of nlgllt.
A feather from hit beating breast,
That shall my song indite;
A feather from bis Wounded breast;
„ With which my soul may write;
Hush I for I feel a flatter,
As if my pen possessed
The wi*ard power to utter
The thoughts within my breast.
1 soar above the glacier's gleam,
I am the night-bird’s guest j ,
I fly with him o’er storm and stream,
Aud never pans', and dream my dream,
And seek my ark of rest.
Tbou art where flowery prairies roll,
But thy heart is on the wing)
And tbc mellow music of thy Soul
Gives answer as 1 sing.
Thou hast called the whirlwinds for a guide,
Across the sounding sea,
And ihe spirit of the wind replied
That bis rushing winds Were free.
I viewed thee in the ‘empest’s tone-,
In the chamois’ agile bound,
And felt thee in the lark’s delight,
Aud in the torrents sound.
I heard thee in the tempest's tone,
And in tbc rippling rills;
I saw thee in the woodlands lone,
And called thee from the hills.
And the very heavens resounded
With the music of thy name,
And the listening Alps rebounded
In fiery floods of flame.
And the spirit of the Alps replied,
That he felt thy dauntless soul
In the fearful pvalaucbe’s slide,
And in the ;l,u»d",r’s rojl; ,
He told me that the Spirit's home
Was on his glancing towers.
And in his torrents' sparkling foam,
And in the Alpine flowers.
And a voice beyond the golden stars
proclaimed tiiy dwelling there,
I hold thee in my prison bars—
Yet thou art everywhere.
TIIE WINE-SELLER’S DAUGHTER,
OH
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE
BATTX.S OF NEW ORLEANS.
XT WILLIAM HENRY FECK.
Author of u The Brother'* Vengeance” u Vir
ginia Gltncairt” “ Saul } the Renegade”
,l The Moctoreon” “ The Red Dwarf*
“ The Family Doom” “ The
Black Phantom” “ The
Corsican” lt Blobs”
d'c., dc., dx.
COPYRIGHT SECURED.
CHAPTER VIII.
VICTOR ST. JOHN.
Despite her great courage Viola
shrank back from the speaker, al
though in the pitchy darkness she
could not see bis features; but she
heard his voice, and more terrible still,
that cold, dry and mocking laugh—
not loud now, but low and exultant,
like the growl of a hungry wolf as his
fangs rend the flesh of his helpless
victim.
“Your very humble servant, Miss
Hartley,” continued Victor St. John.
“ Will you oblige me by giving me
your hand, that I may have the pleas
ure of assisting you from the car
riage.”
She could not see the face* but she
needed no seeing to perceive its ex
pression. She knew it was sneering
with mockery, and blazing with the
malicious tfiumph of a devil.
Her screams might rescue her from
his power, atid she again shrieked for
aid. But Victor St. John sprang in
to the carriage and grasped her as if
about to gay* her with bis open hand.
Any indignity, but the horror of his
hated touch t
» “ Lpoje me !" gasped Viola, writh
ing from his hand as he pressed it
over her mouth. “ Free me ! Have
mercy sir, and I #ilf not scream.
Leave the carriage and I will get out
without aff&istance.”
“ You gratify irie exceedingly,” re
plied S£ John* in the same mocking
tone, “but will excuse me for grasp
ing your fair arm, as the niglft is dark
and you might stumble—or find my
poor company so unpalatable as to
desire to leave it.”
u Tell me why you have so out
raged me ?” demanded Viola, as she
stepped upon the pavement. _ “ You*
who pretended such friendship to my
letoftft to ponton f iterate, ptes, te farli Information.
father, such love end respect for
me ?”
“ Did you not declare your rejec
tion of my honorable suit final ? Did
I not tell you that such an answer
would drive me to despair, Viola
Hartly ? You see the madman at his
game-Of desperation. But we will
converse more at ease jn the house,”
said St- John, his tones softening
frond fierceness to mockery. “ Your
father bade me never enter his house
Again, and I told him the loss would
be his and not mine. My words are
coming true, and when we are better
acquainted, Viola—as I at* sure we
shall be—yoii Will discover that I never
make a menace without a blow—sooner
or later. Come, madam, I am wait
ing for you.”
Viola shuddered AS she Remarked
the deliberate tone of command he
already assumed.
“ Must I enter that dreadful house ?”
She murmured, ready to sink with
fear.
“ Why dreadful ? You have never
been in it?” sneered St. John, as
Viola stood Upon the pavement. “ I
Ihink We may make it very agreeable.
Do not start so fearfully, Viola. You
must enter that house, quietly or by
force, and I assure you you shall not
leave it as Viola Hartly, but as Mrs.
Victor St. John.”
“ I may perish there, villain, blit
never shall I bear the name of 9. be
ing—a thing I detest," said Viola,
with bitter contempt and heroic firm
ness.
“Do not irritate me,” whispered
St. John. “ I am more dangerous
and far more reckless than you can
deem me.”
She felt his grasp upon her arm
grow painfully rigid, and knew by the
hissing sound of his voice that he
spoke through his set teeth.
And this was the fascinating Capt.
St. John, whom all the ladies young
and old, of the Crescent City, had
pointed out and praised as a model of
a gentle warrior ! This was the gentle
man whoso rich and manly tones had
often accompanied hers injoyous or
mournful song in the parlors of her
father and of her father’s admiring
friends!
What would they think, were they
to see and hear him nov:, heaping
ruffianly indignities upon the much
loved and much envied daughter of
the rich Georgian, Colonel Lionel
Hartly !
St. John was dragging rather than
leading her towards the house, the
door of which was elevated several
feet from the street, and accessible by
a street flight of stone steps, when
Viola heard the sound of rapidly
nearing hoofs.
If she could but gain time until the
horseman should be passing the spot,
and she knew from the speed of his
horse, invisible but growing rapidly
clear to the ear, that a moment would
bring him there !
She would shriek as only a despair
ing woman can shriek, and if the
rider were human her voice of horri
ble anguish would warn him of the
Villainous outrage she was suffering.
But Victor St. John hurried up the
steps, forcing her along with brutal
strength ; and, as he reached the door,
placed his hand upon her lips, holding
it there with all a madman's tenacious
power i
He had divined her intention ; and
frustrated her last hope of speedy res
cue; for the horseman plunged by
as if riding for a great stake, for life
or death, and was out of hearing in a
moment.
But at the instant he swept by, the
door of the house was thrown open,
and the glare of a bull’s eye lantern
flashed, like the lightning’s gleam,
over the face of the rider.
That face was visible but for an
an instant, passing into the inky dark
ness so quickly that it seemed a mis
sive hurled through the air and
athwart the lantern s sheen, but Vio
la’s straining eyes recognized it as
plainly as if she had been gazing upon
it for an hour iu the broad glare of
the sun.
Victor St. John recognized it* too,
and he uttered a bitter malediction
upon the soul of its owner; for it was
the proud and handsome face of liis
rival, of Violst’s accepted lover, of
Henry Allison—riding like mad to be
in time to receive his dying mother’s
blessing—riding with the heaifty per
mission of his general from the battle
field of the morrow, to see his mother
once mote before she died.
«May you break your proud nCck,
Henry Allison,” said St. John, still
retaining his pressure upon Viola’s
lips. “But here comes another ri
ing a steeple-chase,” he continued, as
the sound of approaching hoofs was
again heard. “Let’s see who follows.
Hold your lantern at the same angle*
Raymond."
He spoke to the person Who had
opened the door, ana whose features
Viola could not see, because the qpecu-
GREENVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY* MAY 15, 1861*
liar construction of the lantern threw
all its rays in a single volume out
wards ana not upwards.
The second rider darted by. and
again the gleam swept over the face
of the horseman, and then he was
gone headlong into the black deep of
the night.
“It is Gen. Allison,” said St. John;
“and he rides well and bravely for
the old veteran. They must have
heard of the illness of Mrs. Allison.
There will be rare search for you,
Viola, this fiigbi, but it will not be my
fault if some of the maiden hunters
do not make a bloody ending to their
sport. They will not find you, Viola,”
he added as he lifted her, bodily, into
the house and withdrew his polluting
palm from her outraged lips.
“ Scream and shriek to your hearts
content now, fair lady,” he contin
ued, as he closed and locked the door.
“ This honse is isolated, and the near
est tenements are tenanted only by
rats—which are but poor allies to
weeping maids, Viola.”
Sneering again; and how Satanic
his strangely handsome face looked
when he mocked his prey!
“Am I weeping?” demanded Viola,
drawing her queenly form erect and
flashing Scorn and defiance upon him
from her splendid eyes of blue.
“ You are a Zenobia, my Viola,”
said he, gazing on her indignant beauty
with a bold and exultant admiration
that drove the hot blood of anger
from her cheeks, to leave them ashy
white, and then sent it back until her
face and neck Were dyed to the deep
crimson of ihfiulted modesty.
They had passed from the vestibule,
and were standing beneath a great
chAndelier of bronze that flamed with
a score of waxen lights; and Viola, in
her anguish of sou!., longed for the
darkness of the dismal streets, where
she could escape from the baleful
gleam of those fiery qyes.
In her extremity slier turned fd the
person called Raymond, but shtidder- 1
ed as she read nothing upon his ill fa
vored and scowling visage, save ad
miration and blind obedience for Vic
tor St. John. ' ■ ."‘""<£l
“ She is beautiful, is >he hot, Ray
mond?”'said St. John, As Viola drew
her veil, over her face;
“Lovely as, a .PrirtsisS." “Asa
Prinsiss—as a Prlps&s,” echoed the
bull-necked and dog-eyed scoundrel,-
rubbing his swarthy bands. “ A reg
ular downright Prinsis'S of- Sheba,.
Captin.”
“And I, Raymond?. Am I not, as
a man, as well favored .as she?” said
St. John, towering in his lofty stature
far above the ugly and misshapen
Raymond.
“You’re a Prince—a Juke—a
Herl, by my ghost,'you are hay Hem
perrer!” almost shouted Raymond,
eyeing his Captain from head to foot.
“And yet when I prayed her to be
come my wife,” continued St. John in
a deep and bitter tone,” what did she
do ?”
“She jumped at yer, Captin ! I
know she jumped at the hoffer of yer
’art-hand ’and!” cried Raymond,
rubbing his dirty paws until they
smoked.
“No! she scorned me! She re
jected me, Raymond !” exclaimed St.
John fiercely.
“ Unpossible !” wheezed Raymond,
holding up his great, horny hands in
feigned astonishment. “ Now if hi
’ad bin her hied jumped at yer —I
would. Hand if hied been you my
wanity lid a bin shattered to bits,
Captin.”
And that was it. His vanity had
been lacerated to madness, and that
grinning Gorilla of a man, that Ugly
defdrmed Raymond knew it. The
thought pleased him wonderfully, and
he rolled his big paws over each other
and then rubbed his hideous old visage
with them as if he were washing him
self with the Astounding fact that at
last Victor St. John had been refused,
rejected, scorned by a woman !
Viola, burning with shame but proud
in her despair, remained standing,
veiled and silent.
“Your vanity ! Your vanity ! And
have you such a jewel in that carcass?”
exclaimed St. John; nettled to the
quick by the home-thrust, for he was
vaifi of his beauty even to folly.
“ Perhaps I ’ave,” said Raymond.
“We all ’ave hour weak pints,
Captin.”
“Be off, you porcupine—and send
your lovely wife to attend upon this
lady,” continued St. John.
And so' that hobgoblin Raymond
had a wife 1
“She’s lotely id her way," growled
Raymond, as he moved away, still
soaping his paWs and washing his Vis
age With that delicious fact. “ She
can out claw the deril iA a pintfh,
Captin, And has clawed you out of
many s scrape. She’s Seeing after
the carriage.’ 7
.“Beoff! and do as I command,
toti bandylegged booby," shouted
St. John; * ■ ’» .
Raymond hobbled away, leaving
St. John and Viola gazing upon each
other with far different emotions.
“You do not ask my clemency,”
said St. John, after a pause.
She did not reply, but he ceuld see
the gleam of her scornful eyes even
through her veil; and despite his bru
tal, beastial hardihood seemed to
quail and dwindle before ber.
“ The bird trtewly waged seldom
sings," pursued he, in his insulting,
mocking way. “ When used to her
cage she will sing right tuegHy.’*
- There was a triple rap •* the
street door and St. John stepped into
the vestibule.
“ Who goes!” he asked, with his
lips at jhe key-hole.
Viola did not hear the reply but it
was whispered into the ear of St.
John as he bent his head to the
orifice:
An enemy.”
“ Who combs?” Asked St. John, aa
before.
. Tljfrwhispered response was:
“B.& B.”
And St. John opened the doflr to
admit Carlos, the Spaniard.
’ “ You must have flown to be here
So soon,” remarked St. John.
“I citing to the carriage after rap
ring the head of Biddy-Blackbird,"
Wf Carlos, swaggering into the hall—
he turnbU.iHm exploit of knock
ing down poor dartfel “ Her head
was as hard as th'W.Odl'e of the Pyra
mids and I-had to rap it? twice before
she keelecUike a shotduck. You were
eChke a..curse but' i-swung on behind,
ahd would have been here as soon as
you; but 1 a? the team slewed around
a corner-([difiS five hundred yards from
this I Slipped my cable and was shot
into the gutter like, . a sack of coffee.
Hut. here t am—how’s the bird?”
Carlos did not/wait-for Answer but
browded past . St. Jobivitfto the hall,
Where his audacious stajic greeted the
unfortunate Viola. 1
“ So—mylady;. ydu are there. If
you had your figure head hampered
witbua iib like that when in the drug
shoJfc jash me, my beauty, if you
hwatSfeffc bA at safe'fcrichordgerin -old
Allison’S harbor now. But ydtir Veil
—-is that the name of the rag —was
hauled midships and I knew ybu Werb
the. Captain’s fancy.”
• “I owe thiSifidignity to you, then ?”
said Viola, coldlyy-jhoqgh her heart
sickeiled as web of vil
iljdny Around her;’
“I was nbt long in signalizing the
•Captain, madam, and we hashed a
pretty plot betwebil dS—didn't we?”
replied Carlos, combing his great
black beard with his fingers. “We
scared you out of yous wits,and you
ran into the trap like a gull.”
“Come you have said enough,” in
terposed St. John, who chafed at the
ruffian.’s familiarity, “ This lady is un
der my protection and jn my house.”
.“Steady," said Carlos, with his
swaggering lurch. “Our bargain is
only half done, Captain. I have
aided you to catch your Pheasant —
your hand is pledged to help me snare
my Bird-o’-Piiradisb. You have your
Viola —I want toy Rosfetta.”
Viola started violently, and almost
rank with tferrOr as she perceived that
the villains had made a fiendish com
pact. But in all her terror she pitied
the miserable Rosetta for loving the
heartless St. John, and ber indignation
leilped to her lips.
“ Captain St. John if you are hu
man I .pray yotl Spare that unhappy
girl/ whose love you have won to sell
to that bad from; She is but a child-”
“ Ah, you have seen Rosetta ? You
know her!” exclaimed St. John.
.“She was in my presence not an
hour since,” continued “and
I know that it is her dangerous mis
fortune to love you. Spare—”
But Carlos broke in savagely:
“ Does she ? We will cure that love,
and she may love a? good a man in
Carlos Lollio as in Captain St. John.
When she learns that all the Captain’s
love-making was for me, she will hate
him like a hangman. But blOw the
luck that put ber on the street this
night and I not knowing it!
“Why was she with yotl?” de
manded St. John.
“ I am not here to Cater to your cu
riosity,” responded Viola haughtily.
Raymond now appeared, followed
by his wife, a sour-faced Vixen as ab
surdly tall as hb was short.
Viola saw at a glance that she
could expect no ally in Raymond’s
lovely wife.” ,
“ Marbel," Said St. John tO this
twist-eyed Hecate, “ this lady is now
in yotrr charge, She is not Very hand
some, Miss llar,tly, but you trill’ find
her very faithful to— me ! I beg yoir
wrll follow he*,- Miss Martly, and con
sole yourself under her guardianship
with the certainty that the future
madam St.- John will soon have better
company."
He bowed with mock ceremony,
and as Vida followed the silent Mar
bel said to Raymond r
a Keep close guard of my treasure,
old Argus, and I will pay you well;”
Then turning to Carlos he con
tinued :
“ You have some business of the
League on hand; I will go part of
the way with you. Raymond, bring
the caaket I'spoke of this qvening.”
“I *ave it *ere,” said Raymond,
giving the Captain a small ebony box,
inlaid with ivory and gold,
j “ You are ever ready, Raymond,*’
pursued St. John.
) ** Cdme, Carlos, I have an appoint
ment at tea. Some of our fellows of
the League demand gold in hand be
! fore striking a blow, and my purse
needs replenishing.
“My cloak, Raymond.’*
“ What pawn broker do you pat
ronize ?” asked Carlos, as Raymond
opened the door for their exit.
“ Benditto, the fortune-teller.”
“ Good, we shall take back the jew
els ere iong,” said Carlos.
“But not the gold,” laughed St.
John, and then both disappeared in
the darkness of the street.
“ Brave lads—both of’em,” grinned
Raymond, peering into the gloom.
“ But the Captain id a diamond—he
is the King of Diamifits. Lubk to
him.”
With this befiediction he closed and
locked the door, and hpbbled away to
his own quarters soaping and Washing
himself with this last fact l
“ The Captain is as pretty a rascal
as eVer I see.”
CHAPTER IX
viola’s LOVER.
"Victor St. John and Carlos soon
parted in the street; .to meet again by
agreement before midnight; and the
former bent his steps towards the
dwelling of the fortune-teller.
While he is on his way, muffled
to the eyes, in his rich and heavy cloak,
scheming for Rosetta’s destruction, let
us return to the house Os. General
-Allison.
After ViolA and Jane’s departure
the timid but-swcet-souled Harriet Al
lison returned to the bed side of her
me*n2ng mother, <c Ester, to the an
guish dhe could not alleviate, ahd to
watch the slow moving hand of the
di&l oh the mantel.
She knew that to converse with her
fhOther was strictly forbidden by the
family physician, and could only de
note her gehilfe presence by smoothing
the fevered brow with Her soft hand,
and pressing her mother’s hot and
restless fingfers with her loving lips
from time to timb.
The vigil grew longer and more
painful every instant, and Harriet's
eyes begat} to flash impatience As she
saw the dial hand had crept five, ten,
fifteen minutes—half an hour beyond
the time necessary to visit and return
froth the pharmacy. Her fate grew
pale and her heart like lead; as she
began to imagine something dreadful
had happened to Viola.
“ Oh that I had gone with hes;” she
murntured as She hurried to the win
dow, and vainly stroVe to peer into the
darkness without. “Oh that she., had
not gone at all. Sojiifethiflg terrible
must have happened!” #
A deeper moan from the invalid
hurried her to the sick bfed.
“Has your father come?” whis
pered the sufferer.
“He will come dear mother,” re
plied Harriet, soothingly. “We have
sent most urgent messages! to him and
to brother Henry—they have far to
ride and with brief notice.”
“ Was not Viola Hartly here a little
While ago ?” continued hes mOther.
A little while ago ! To Harriet the
time seemed an age, and she trembled
to think that the hot fever Was mount
ing to her mother's brain and making
ber delirious.
“ She was here; my mother,” re
plied poor Harriet. “ She will return’
immediately—-she has gone for med
icine.”
“ Is it not night,” asked the invalid;
“ I thought it Was a wedding night
and saw Henry wed Viola a’t the altar
—-it wAs a very pleasant dream and I
Should like to see it a reality. Ah,
my poor head—it aches—my husband;
my son do not be rash’ in battle;” and
then Sighing deeply the invalid sank
into a profound slumber.
Harriet knelt by the bed, and was
beseeching Heaven to spare hes moth
er’s life when she heard a hpfse dash
up to the front gate, then a deep
growl from the dog, then a joyful
bark of recognition; and she forgot
her despairing prayer in sudden Joy.
“ Viola ha* returned, or perhaps —
yes the horse—it must be father or
brother,” she thought as Abe arose
and hUrried from th’6 room and doWn
the stairs into the hall below.
She opened the door and was in
stantly locked in her brother’s arm*.
“ Our jsetbej ?" he whispered.
“Is very, very ill. Our father?”
responded Harriet.
“Is coming—listen!' You may
hear bis horse a* be (iptrri him: Meet
NO. 15.
him, Harriet-* -I will hurry to our
dear mother.
“ She sleeps, Henry—ah, father is
at the gate—he dismounts—lie is fun
ning—poor father—he is here!”
And again the gentle girl was fold
ed in manly arms.
“Your mother—my wife—Sobs shti
live!” exclaimed Gen. Allison, almost
breathless.
“ Lives, and that is all, my father,**
replied Harriet, as the three hastened
with noiselels feet to the sick chamber.
Tbe father, son and daughter stood
silently nnd sad, by tbe bed side,
gazing with tearful eyes upon the be
loved face of the wife and mother
they deemed dying. The father, a
noble snowy-haired veteran, tall, dig
nified and commanding; the son, as
noble, but in the golden prime of man
hood, with lofty port and superior
bearing, handsome, brave, elegant and
vigorous; the daughter, as lovely,
fair and fragile as a lily, pure, grace
ful and gentle; the mother, a virtuous,
pious matron, racked With fever even
in her unnatural slumber.
Harriet drew her father and brother
aside and told them of Viola, and of
her startling absence.
Henry grew pale, for his love for
Violia was his second soUl; yet he
replied:
“ The physician must be summoned
at once—-the loss of the mhdicine may
be fatal. I will call for Dr. Burrit at
once, and—”
He paused, for filial love and duty
bade him say: “ and hasten back.”
While the passionate atid adoring love
of youth, alarmed to speechleSs agony;
would prompt—“ and Seek Viola !”
But his father came to the reSctie.
“ I know your love for yotir mother,
my dear boy,” Said Gen. Allison,
pressing his hand. “ Hasten to sum
mon the doctor—for you are more
active than I—and then seek for Miss
Hartly.”
“ And you, father?”
“My duty is Kerb;” replied the
husbannd, though he assumed a stoi
cism he could not feel.. *'•
At this rbplv sowed pro
foundly; airft glided from tile apart
nrefft. n.
He was soofi iri the street and itpo*
his horse, whose mettle had not suc
cumbed to a headlong race of ten
miles.
With a slash of his whip aa§»
thrust of his spurs, resented by a des
perate plunge of his hofse, Henry
dashed along the street, almost r iduig
dowtt a mounted patrol, ahd with it
in full chase speeded to tbc house of
the family doctor.
As he drew rein' before the mansion
he heard tbe clatter of pursuing hoofs,
but leaping from the saddle he sprang
to the door and struck it repeatedly
with the heavy handle of his tiding
Whip.
Before his summons could elifclt a
reply from within he was surrounded
by a triO of the patrol.
“ Who rides?” demanded the leader,
springing the slide of ftii lanterb.
“ Chalmette !” replied Henry ; and
as the light gleamed upon his uniform
the sentinel exclaimed:
“It is Capt. Allison. All’s well,
Captain,” and was turning away when
Henry laid:
“ Halt! I may need your services;
Sergeant.”
The door was then opened, Henry
delivered his tidings, and was an
swered by the physician, Who' had
followed the servant to the door:
“ I will ride there immediately,
Captain Allison. Saddle my horse,
James,” saiid the doctor, who Was a
man of prompt Action And famous
repute.
Henry hufriedly expressed his
thanks and then turning to tbe chiOf
of the patrol said:
“ Mount! a young lady has sudden
ly And suspiciously disappeared. Ride
after me!”
Hi* commands were obeyed and he
at once directed his course towards
the pharmacy at which Viofa had
called first, .As he hopbd he might
hear some tiding of tier there:
[TO B* CONTINUED IN 088 NEXT.] .
To Miss dAtib AM Gossip.—Most
honored and highly estimable lady,
knowing the guileless and Innocent
simplicity of your young heart, and
the confiding tenderness of your girl
isl» nature, I write you this ttf bid you
be on your guara, and not put too
much faith in the protestations of .
(It is needless to mention names, ait
yoUr Bright ifltelfeit fill At once de
fine to whom I refer.) He is idly tri
fling with your girlish affections, and
no doubt seeks, Alto, the strings of
your pUirs'e. If you doubt the truth
of this statement, go this evening to
the great oak a$ the edge of the Wood,
conceal yoterseff ahd listen
said; But take good eare thAfyou
Say bofhing of it to any one,tei tEw^s
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