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fjutgugta gtt'Stnc'S.s
KEAN & CASSEL.S,
Wholesale and retail dealers in
Foreign and Domestic Dry Goods
209 Broad st., lat stand of H.F. Bussel & Cos.
AUGUSTA, GA.
J. MUItPHY & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
English White Granite & C. C. Ware
ALSO,
Semi-China, French China, Glassware, &c.
No 244 Broad Street,
AUGUSTA GA.
T7MARKW ALTER,
MARBLE WORKS,
BROAI) STREET,
Near Lower Market,
AUGUSTA, GA
TIIE AUGUSTA
Gilding, Looking-glass,Picture Frame
factory.
01,] Picture Frames Regilt to look Equal to
Ac.w. Old Paintings Carefully Cleaned,
Lined and Varnished.
J. J. BROWSE, Agent,
346 Broad st., Augusta, Ga.
SCHNEIDER,
DEALER IN
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS
AUGUSTA, GA.
Agent for Fr. Schleifer & Co.’s San Francisco
CALIFORNIA BRANDY.
iuibgsb gmequott champagne.
E. It. SCHNEIDER, *
Augusta, Georgia,
Bones, Brown & Cos., J.& S. Bones & Cos.,
AUGUSTA, GA. ROME, GA.
Established 1325. Established 1869.
BONES, BHGWN & CO.,
IMPORTERS
And dealers in Foreign & Domestic
HARDWARE
AUG-tJSTA CrA
T 7! IT. I tOCUICItiA,
-JL .
Importer and dealer ...
RMS. GIS PISTOLS
And Pocket Cutlery,
Aram- mition. of all Iviatls,
245 BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA.
REPAIRING EXECUTED PROMPTLY
(gUiertcn §usiuß Cwif.
LIGHT CARRIAGES & BUGGIES.
:
J. F. AULD,
(Carriage /un ufact- r
ELBERTON, GEORGIA.
BEST WORKMEN!
BEST WORK!
LOWEST PRICES!
Good Bug Rios, warranted, -
Common Buggies - - -
REPAIRING AND BLACKSMiTHING.
Work done in this line in the very best style.
Tlxo Best Harness
My 2 2—l v
'J - . M. SWIFT. MACK ARNOLD
SWIFT & ARNOLD,
(Successors to T. M. Swift,)
dealers in
dry goods,
GROCERIES, CROCKERY, BOOTS AND
SHOES, HARDWARE, Ac.,
Public Square, ELBEKTON GA.
H 7 K. GASRDNER,
ELBERTON, GA„
DEALER IN
MY SOUK. MOtMUS.
HARDWARE, CROCKERY,
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS
Notions, &c-
ELBERTON FEMALE
Cfllkgiatf|iistituk
THFj exercises of this institute will be resum
ed on Monday, August 18th, lAtS.
Fall term, four months. Tuition, $2.50,
$3.50, and $5 per mouth, according to class—
payable half in advance.
Mrs. Hester will continue in charge of tin
Musical Department.
Board in the best families can be obtained at
from slo'to sls per month.
For further information address the Principal!
g IT. P. SIMS.
THE GAZETTE.
New Series.
A RACE WITH DEATH.
“Sir, you’re an ass!”
“ Sir, I’m not; I came here to sue for
your daughter’s hand, and—”
“And you expect me to give my daugh
ter to a man who, whatever may be his
other qualities, has not a copper in the
world to bless himself with?”
“ I know I have no money at present,
sir, but I have hopes —”
“ A pretty thing to begin housekeep
ing on! Supposing you were married
to-morrow, do you wish to live or die the
day after?
“Live, sir, of course.”
“Why of course? To live you want
food; if you want food, you want mon
ey; and as you have no money you
would get no food; and no food means
starvation! Do you see that, sir?”
“Yes, sir; but—”
“But! There’s no but in the case.
Now take a bit of advice from me, Mor
timer, as one of your father’s oldest
friends. Go and earn a living; and when
you can show me that you can support
my daughter if I give her to you—mind
you, if — I shall be ready to talk you. Good
morning. Bah!” and the testy but good
natured old gentleman stumped out of
the room, leaving me speechless sitting
on the edge of a chair with my hat in my
hand. All my hopes had been ruthless
ly dashed to the ground. I had expect
ed to argue the point with Mr. Clavering,
as Bessie, his daughter, had assured me
it would be all right if I only put the
matter properly before him. We had
mutually agreed that he would be sure
to give his consent, and had laid no end
of plans for the future, in which every
thing but the question of money had
been exhaustively considered. The ab
rupt maimer in which this had now been
brough up disconcerted me not a little,
and I left the room not quite so certain
that I did not resemble that generally
good natured but otherwise unreliable
quadruped to which Air. Clavaring had
likened me in the course of our conver
sation.
At the door I met Bessie, with an an:;-
ious expression of mingled anxiety and
curiosity in her countenance.
“Well, Jack, what did papa say?”
“That I was an ass, Bessie.”
“ Oh, I hope yor did not quarrel. I
w p Q olVnirl fbpvq woo aorm>Hun(Y w v cur* or.
as I heard him ordering deviled kidneys
for lunch, and he never does that without
he’s in a passion.”
“ Bessie, the old gentleman asked me
how we were going to live.”
“Well, did you not tell him in a little
cottage, with a garden in front, and a
piggery, and a kitchen garden, and a
fowl-house, and a little dairy, and— ’
“Yes, yes; but that’s not what he
meant. He wanted to know where all
the money was to come from to pay for
all this.”
“ Why, you were to proride the money,
of course. You were to earn it.”
“ Certainly; but your father wanted
to know how.”
“How? Well, you would —there now,
you ought to know best surely. Don’t
you?”
“No, I do not, Bessie, and I think we
ought to have thought of thiß before.”
“Jack, I don’t wonder papa got in a
passion with you, you're so stupid. I
have a great mind to get angry with you
myself.”
“But, sweetheart, don’t you really
think we ought to have considered how
we were going to buy what we wanted?”
“That was your business, not mine;
and, Jack, if you look at toe like that I’ll
box your ears.”
“No you wont. I think you’re all in.
a very bad temper this morning.”
“Bo you? Now I tell you what it is,
My. Jack. Till you find cut how we’re
going to get money to live on I wont
have anything more to say or to do with
you at all. Don’t come near me now. I
don’t love you a bit; I never shall, and I
never did! And, Jack, when you’ve
found out how, you’ll come and tell me
first, wont you ? And away dashed Bes
sie, leaving me at the garden gats, to
which wo had walked during our conver
sation.
It was a lovely spring morning. All
nature seemed in ecstacy at the prospect
of approacliing summer. I alone was
sad. I could not help feeling that I had
made a mistake, and that I must have
lowered myself considerably in the esti
mation of old Mr. Clavering by appear
ing so thoughtless and inconsiderate.
True, I was but nineteen, and having lost
my father early, had been brought up
and educated by my mother alone, and
so perhaps had rather less knowledge of
the world than I should have acquired
had I been sent to a public school or to
the university. My position was by no
means a bad one. The only son of a dis
tinguished military officer, who Was not
wealthy, but left what little he had to his
widow during her lifetime. I might be
said to have possessed a good education,
and what was perhaps better, good pros
pects. I had been invited by Mr. Cla
vering, who was an old mi i ary comrade
of my father’s, to spend a month with
him at his residence at Morecombe Bay.
During my stay I had learned first to
and then to love his daughter, Bessie,
and when my visit approached its ter
mination had not only declared my love,
but had asked permission to marry, with
what result is known. Having been al
ways tolerably well supplied with money
I had never yet been brought to face with
the great educator of humanity—the ne
cessity of earing-one’s bread—and was,
therefore, rather ignorant of some of the
principal duties of life than unmindful of
them. The bluff, common-sense of Bes-
ELBERTON, GEORGIA* OCTOBER 1* 1873.
sie’s father had compelled me to consider
matters from a practical point of view,
and I was now perhaps more angry with
myself than with any one else. I walked
on but finally resolved to return to the
cottage and saddle Moro for a ride
through the woods. Moro had been my
father’s charger, and had been left me,
with particular instructions as to his>
care. He was a splendid horse of jet
black color, of enormous strength. By
the kindness of my host I had been al
lowed to bring him with me, and many a
pleasant ride had I had on his back with
Bessie Clavering.
As I re-entered the pleasant garden at
tached to the cottage I strove in vain to
catch a glimpse of Bessie, and reached
the stable without having met anybody
but the old gardenner, who saluted
me with the usual “ How de do, sur ? I
was soon by the side of Moro, who gave
a neigh of delight as I entered. It did
not take long to put on his saddle, and
as I left the yard I learned from the old
groom that Miss Claveaing had ridden
out alone about a quarter of an hour be
fore me. I was certainly much chagrined
at this, and made several mental resolves
to be fully revenged as soon as I could
get a convenient opportunity. I turned
down a lane that led to the bridle-path
along the top of the cliff, and letting the
reins fall over Muro’s neck, ababandoned
myself to building castles in the air,
in the erection of which Bessie took a
very prominent part. The spot was ad
mirably adapted to meditation. To my
left a small wood, through the breaks in
which glimpses of the rising upland were
caught every lo.v and then, straight
ahead a broad expanse of purple heath
er, and to my right the rugged, steep
cliffs, at the foot of which a vast tract of
sand, as the sea, owing to the flat shore,
retires a distance of nearly four miles;
far away in the distance, the bright dan
cing waters, with a sail or two in sight,
and over the whole a glorious expanse of
blue, across which the light morning air
blew a few white scudding clouds.
Some tliree and a half miles from the
shore there extended right along the
coast a low sand bank, which was at once
a source of pleasure and danger to the
inhabitants and the fishermen. When the
tide flowed the sea beat against the bank
for some time, till at last with an angry.
ii/aix, Xu oLu.muim.ueu. me obstacle ailQ.
came tearing down the incline like a very
avalanche. Many accidents resulting in
loss of life had taken place, owing to the
ignorance and carelessness of tourists
and others, who, lulled into a state of
fancied security by the distance of the
sea, would wander about on the sands
till overtaken by the tide, when they were
placed, as it were, in an instant, beyond
human assistance, and were invariably
lost. Danger signals and notices had
been put up in every prominent position
by the authorities, who were accustomed
also at the turning of the tide to fire a
signal gun; but, with all that, the sands
were so tempting, and the very breeze
that wafted across them so delicious,
that a day seldom passed without some
party or other, generally mounted ven
tured upon them.
As I looked down I could see nothing
but a solitary speck in the distance,
which I soon after made out, through a
little pocket-glass I always carried, to be
a person on horseback cantering along.
I paid no particular attention at the time
and continued my way, gathering up the
reins as Moro broke into a gentle trot.
I was now on the edge of the cliffs,
where a single false step would at once
have precipitated me on Sknds below,
and although Moro was
wonderfully sure footed and well ac
quainted with the path, I moved along
with considerable caution. The beauty
of the scene and the exercise soon dis
pelled the gloominess that had oppressed
me, and as my blood began to circulate
more quickly my spirits rose and I com
menced to sing right merrily.
The path now took a sudden turn by a
deep gorge, and as I did not wish to go
round it, a distance of nearly a mile, I
resolved to put Moro across it; so pat
ting him gently on the neck, for I never
touched him with spur or whip, I called
I to him. The noble old horse understood
me at once, and increased his speed. On
we went, the pace getting faster and fas
ter, till, at the gorge, Moro rose with a
splendid bound and alighted safely on
the other side. I now got a full view of
the sands again, and found that I was
considerably nearer the person on horse
back below—in fact that we had been
moving toward one another.
At that moment Moro suddenly stop
ped, and tossing his head in the air, gave
a loud neigh. Somewhat astonished at
this proceeding, I looked more carefully,
and perceived by the flutter of the dress
that the person on horseback was a lady.
I became more interested, and taking out
my glass discovered that it was no other
than Bessie, who had been cantering
along on the sands on a mare that her
father had lately bought her. Moro had.
no doubt recognised his stable compan
ion.
I debated with myself whether I should
return atid, by taking a short cut, meet
her on her way home, in order to upraid
her with her misconduct in going out
alone. While I was cogitating Moro ut
tered a snort of alarm. I looked and be
held a sight that for the moment took
away my breath. From some causa or
other Bessie’s horse appeared to have ta
ken fright andbecameunmanageable; all
at once it tore away like the wind in the
direction of the sea. At the Same mo
ment I heard the distant boom of the
signal gun, which announced that the
tide was just about to turn.
The full horror of the situation now
flashed across me. Unless the mare
■could be stopped in time, my love would
be overtaken k by the [sea and lost
before my eyes. A cold chill took pos
session of me, and for a moment I sat
motionless. Bessie’s figure was already
becoming smaller as she was borne rap
idly onward.
“Now or never, Moro!” I said, as I rose
in the stirrups; and the gallant old horse
seemed to understand me, for he impa
tiently pawed the air w T ith his fore feet.
The next thing was how to get upon the
sands. “The gorge! oh, the gorge!”
I touched Moro, and in a few seconds
we had reached it.
It was a frightful declivity, and the de
scent seemed impossible; yet it was my
only chance, and I determined to attempt
it. Carefully, and with the greatest cau
tion, I guided Moro, and after a few mo
ments of agonized suspense gained the
sand. I knew I had only one course be
fore me—to pursue the mare and then
attempt to race the tide. “Moro!” I
shouted, “Moro! we ride to save my
love.” Moro shook nr nself as if he
knew what a tremendous effort was de
manded of him, and sett l ed down to his
work.
By this time Bessie was quite half the
distance toward the sea. Would I reach
her in time? In order to lighten the
weight I threw away my overcoat, my
hat, coat, and waistcoat. I called upon
Moro; he seemed to fly. We were gain
ing upon the mare evidently, but still
the awful question arose to my lips—
“ Would it be in time?” I could already
hear the roar and surge of the waters,
and the rising wind warned me that the
tide would that morning probably exceed
its usual height. My blood was thor
oughly up. I determined to either save
my love or to perish with her. We were
now but half a mile apart. I shouted
till I was hoarSe, but all to no effect, for
the wind was dead in our faces. Moro
seemed to participate in my excitement,
and strained every nerve to oyer take the
mare. We were not more than two hun
dred yards distant from the sand bank
against which the waves were dashing
with unwonted force. Another second
and the mare would have passed the
bapk, be over whelmed by the raging wa
j ; "'i would be lost. I screamed
' iiTmyTigony. I thought 1 heard a low
wail in response. I shut my eyes, as I
could not bear to look, but opened to cm
again immediately, as Moro gave a whin
ny of pleasure- “Ah! what is that?”
The mare had stumbled and thrown Bes
sie, and then plunged wildly, in her tei*-
ror and fury into the waves. In an in
stant I was along side my love, had dis
mounted and was kneeling by her.
“Bessie! Bessie! oh my darling, are you
dead? Oh, speak to me! speak to me!”
After a few moments, which seemed to
me an age of torture, she opened her eyes
and said, fainly “‘Jack, my best beloved
save yourself; the tide will be over the
bank in a second or two. Give my love
to dear papa.” Then, exhausted, she fell
back in a dead faint. I tore my hsjr
despair; I raved like a madman. What
could Ido ? At last I became calmer,
for a desperate resolve had taken posses
sion of me. Moro should have a double
burden, and we would try and outstrip
the tide; we would race with death. I
soon place my darling across the saddle
and leaped up behind her as the first
spray came flashing over the br!r. x
knew not an instant co be lost. “We
started Ae shore. I patted Moro.
I said to him, “Moro, you bore my father
through the ranks of death at Balaklava.
Oh, save his son!” To add to my ago
ny I now perceived that a storm was im
pending. The sky was overcast; heavy
drops of rain began to fall, and every
now and then a lurid flash lit, up the
darling air. We were now but two miles
from the shore, and if I could only reach
the gorge in time, I knew we were saved.
I caUed again upon Moro. The noble
horse for the first tune uttered sighs of
distress. Anew terror now seized ifi" —
would Moro’s strength last? I turned
and looked, and through the blinding
rain saw, to my horror, that the sea was
already breaking over the bank. It would
be upon us almost directly. I urged
Moro on afresh, bnt the poor animal ap
peared unable to increase his speed.
Boom! boom! “Ah! what is that ? Thank
God, we have been observed, and they
are hasting to our help! The signal-gun !
‘•Moro, my Moro, but a few seconds lon
ger !” We tore along. Bessie still lay
insensible in my arms. The cliffs now
rose frowning before us. Another bun
dled yards and we are saved. “On Mo
ro, on! I hear the roar of the descending
tide.” Once more I turned, and as the
lightning flashed, I saw the waters rag
ing and surging almost at the horse’s
heels. At that moment Moro staggered.
The sea was upon us and over us. I
heard a ringing in my ears. I gave one
last, one agonized shrieck, and remember
ed no more.
I awoke an found myself in a warm
bed, surrounded by compassionate faces.
Mr. Clavering came, forward. “You must
not excite yourself, my boy,” he 6aid.
“Bessie is well.”
“And Moro ?” I asked.
“Is well too,” he said.
Do you want to know whether I mar
ried Bessie? If you do go to More
combe Bay, ask for the Hawthorne’s and
maybe you’ll see an old black military
charge, almost blind, with two or three
curly-headed little urchins on his back,
all laughing and clapping then- hands as
he carries them daintily up and down the
path.
Switzerland has 43 daily papers.
Vol. 11.-JSTo. 23.
COLORED ADVERTISEMENTS.
A Jo-Coso correspondent submits the
following novel advertisements to the
notice of the readers of McDuffiie Journ
al as a sample of the coming style,
when the friends of the “man and broth
er” gets complete possession of their
rights :
TO DE LUBLIO.
Some misdisposed pusson having
’ported ’bout me, dat Silas Widgeon he
butt a doo’ down, and dat I tried to do
de same, and couldn’t butf so well as
Silas, dis is to ’quest de public to ’spend
dar ’pinion ’bout me and Silas till de
facks can be ’splained to dar satisfac
tion. Cyrus .Amboy.
BALL OB CULLAR.
A cullud bawl will be giben on Satur
day night, in de sullur kitchen ob Massa
Smith. De cumpany is quested not to
come in till missus is gone to meetin’, as
cake will be handed round, and missus
sometimes quires wha de Hour and su
gar comes from.
Chloe White.
Phillis Crow.
BOARD.
Ten or fifteen families can be commo
datek wid board in my sullur in Antlio
ny street. Job Gum.
lost.
Dis chile hab lost a pairsol, in gwine
home from a bawl tudder night. Whom
somebber finds de same is tickularly
quested to leab him at dis office, andpay
for dis adbertisement.
Dinah Cole.
GET OFF MY HEEL.
Whereas sartin white folks get on my
heel ebery Sunday in cornin’ out ob de
church; darfore dis is to caution de
public to keep off my heel in peril ob de
law. Deacon Snow.
$5 REWARD.
De bove reward will - y ’ Q any _
body dat will conwict dem pussons on
corner ob Franklin street dat holler
out “Crow” ebery time lis gwine pass
by dat ar corner. I wish I had dem fel
lers down in Richmond, where gemble
men ob cullur can do wliat dey please,
wide white folks. Cato Ney.
hot CORN.
Charity Phillips has her hot corn
ready ebery washin’ day, as she can boil
her corn in de same pot wid de close,
which saves fuel. One cent for little
years; two cents for big ones—no
ter..
outrage.
Yesterday arternoon, in de ebenin, a
couple ob cullud ladies pushed a white
gal off ob de sidewalk, when der purpos
terous white wench • gib sass to de two
spectable cullud ladies, and told uUlli
dey CUglit to be shamed ob demselves.
We blushes at de thought, and we ’spec
fully axes where was de perlice all dat
time.
MARRIED.
On de fifty lebenth ob last month, by
de Rev. Deacon Snow, Mr. Saul Jumbo,
lately diworced from bis tenth wife, and
Miss Phillis, grass widder ob de late Mr.
Paul Wright, and seberal odders, too
numerous to menshun. Boff ob pur
chas comer. No cards played at de wed
din.
DIED.
On de twentieth ob July, next, Fortu
natus Cole, at de larming age ob 100
years. He was a slave all dat time, and
died when he got his freedom, partly
from joy, but mostly from de want ob
something to eat. Suffer little chilums
to come unto me, for de wages ob sin
am death, and de last day obdat man am
wusser dan de fust.
NOTICE.
De siety for equal diwision ob prop
erty, and a law agin de marriage ob two
pussons ob de same cullin’, will con
bene at Fanuel Hall, Boston, next Tues
day.
Luke Sfatee, Pres.
CLAM SOUP.
Peter Washington goes out to white
washing, and clam soup ready at six
o’clock —no trust.
WANTED.
Boy wanted at this office to keep de
flies off de edditur’s head, and a white
boy to do de dirty work ob de or
fice.
% CON.
What is the difference between a ve
terinary surgeon, and a longshoreman ?
One is a horse doctor, and
the other is a dock hoister.
What is the difference between a jailor
and a jeweler ? One watches cells, and
he other sells watches.
GEN. TAYLOR AS A HISTORIAN.
Gen. Taylor, although an excellent
soldier, and a man of strong good sense
in the every-day affairs of life, had boon
educated in the camp, and knew no more
of statesmanship or the operations of
government than a Comanche Indian ;
nor was he distinguished for colloquial
accomplishments or narrative or descrip
tive talent. Then ho had a habit of hes
itation in conversation that amounted
to almost a stammer. He spoke in a
terse, sentatious style upon subjects with
which he was familiar, and his sugges
tions, especially on military matters,
were marked by a quick perception and
a sound judgement. But he was never
diffuse or demonstrative, and wasted no
words upon anybody.
Judge Butler, a colleague in the Senate
of Mr. Calhoun calling to pay his respects
to the President, begged him to describe
the manner in which the battle of Buena
Vista was fought. His brother, Pierce
Butler, commanding the Palmetto Regi
ment, and a very gallant officer, fell in
the battle, and the Judge was naturally
anxious to learn the particulars of that
desperate contest.
“Well, well, Judge, you want to know
how the thing was done. Como and dine
with me to-day and 111 tell you all I
know about it.”
Judge Butler was a hasty, imperious
man, and the words flowed from his
mouth in a torrent whenever he had oc.
casion to speak. He was all impatience
during the dinner and the moment they
were alone he brought up the subject of
the battle.
“Yes, yes, Judge, your brother was a
brave man, and behaved like a tine sol
dier. But about the battle —you want
to know how it was fought ?
“Yes, General, if you will bo so kind.
I wish to learn liow your troops wpro
disposed on the field, and how you post
ed them to resist a force so overwhelm
iug. Santa Anna must have outnum
bered you at least four or five to one.”
“Tho difference was greater than that,
I think, but we didn’t stop to count the
Mexicans. I knew there was a heavy
force, and longed for a couple of regi
ments more of regulars.”
“Undoubtedly," said the Judge; “but
what was your order of battle ?
“Why, why, you see Judge, went
to fe ting early in the morning the first
day,"and we fit all day long, losing.®
good many men, and at night it looked
pretty bad.”
“Well, what next ?”
“When it got dark I rode over to Sal
tillo to look after our stores and to pro
vide against a surprise.
“Why did you go yourself? Why not
send one of your aides ?”
“You see, everything depended on not
having our supplies cut off, and I want
ed to see after things myself?”
“How was it the next morning when
you come on the field?” inquired Judge
Butler. .
“Not much change since the night be-
fore.” ~
“Who was the first man that you met.
“General Wool.”
“And wliat did ho say?
“All is lost.”
“What was your reply 1 ?”
“Maybe so, General —we’ll see,’ and
upon that we went to fighting again,
and fit all that day, and toward night it
looked better.”
The Judge, looking rather blank, ask
ed—
“ What next?”
“Well, the morning it was reported to
me that Santa Anna and all his men had
disappeared in the night, and I was very
glad to be rid of them so.”
BILLINGSGATE OUTDONE.
Johnson once made a bet with Boswell
that he could go into the fish market and
put a woman in a passion without say
ing a word she could understand. Tho
Doctor commenced by silently indicating
with his nose that her fish had passed
that state in whidh a man’s olfactories
could endure their odor. Tho Billings
gate lady made a vebal attack in common
parlance. The Doctor answered:
“You are an article, madam.’
“No more of an article than yourself,
you misbegotten villian.”
“You are a noun, woman.”
“You —you, ’ stammered: the woman,
choking with rage at a list of titles she
could not understand.
“You are a pronoun.”
The bedlam shook her fist in speacli
less rage.
“You are a verb, an adjective, a con
junction, a preposition, an interjection!”
suddenly continued the Docter, applying
the harmless epithets at proper inter
vals.
The nine parts of spoech completely
conquered the old woman, and she flung
herself down in the mud, crying with
rage at being thus “blackguarded” in a
set of unknown terms, which not under
standing, she could not answer.
God is love;