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AJStD GEORGIA JOTJR,]S3'A.L & M^ESSElNTGrER.
ESTABLISHED 1826
MAGQN, TUESDAY, APRIL 18, 1871.
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| For the Telegraph and Messenger.
Iia-ftlax and Spectacles.
Hit's nigh npon twenty year or more,
(Which my old 'oman, Nancy,
Sie sivd hit's bar’ly nineteen, shore.
Bat ’/ knows women’s fancy 1)
That my habit’s been, if its warm and dear,
To set in my old split bottom cheer
Oat tbar on the front pyazer, near
Them large plumgranite bushes.
leet’s thar tow’rds tbo cool o’ the day,
To read myweekly paper,
And I bears the hens a cluckin’ away
Aod the pigs agin the scraper.
And I sees the eun go down the sky,
And I hopes, bein’ old, that I may die
As bold as the snn. surrounded by
Them bright and heavenly blushes.
I sot thar some few days ago,
A-readin’ and a-noddin’.
And here como neighbor Jeema Mnnro,
A-croaa the field a-ploddin’.
And “Well!” says he, “did y’ oversee
Sicb (loins’, gracious goodness me,
As them Ku-Klux is eaid to bo
Eternally a-doin’ ?
“ Why, here," says he, “’s a paper, sent
To me from Pennsylvany;
Jest look ! Hit says the Ku-Klux went,
That night that was so rainy,
And they tnck np a poor old colored man
And carved him and jin ted him; made him
stan'
On his bead and eat np hisself, then ran
A-howlin’ and lrallybalooin’!”
Sow Jeema Mnnro liaint lived here long,
For he's a thrivin' Yankee
That bought some land from me for a song.
When tilings were crioky-cranky
Just after the war, and then piled in,
And the way he worked, O, lnt was a sin,
And spite of his Yankeeness he has bin
A first-rate, honest neighbor.
lies. sir. a first-rate man is Jeems,
Whichever way you strike him,
And I wish these Georgy bills and streams
Had a million more just like him.
But Jeems has hie faults,as most men them,
And one of ’em is that ho kinnot learn
That all o’ them Kn Klnx lies he's heam
Is fools’ and rascals’ labor.
And so I says, “Now Jeems Mnnro,
Yon air a man of gumption.
Yon know that two and two makes fo\
And jou ain’t much on presumption;
And now that you’ve lived in Bibb four year,
Did yon ever see, or feel, or bear,
Or taste, or smell, or think yon was near
A Ku-Kluxiu’ assassin ?"
“ Can’t say I hev,” says Jeems. “Well now,”
Saya 1, “Old Snmner’s thundered
And shack the land, a-1 ay in’ how
Yonr folks and Grant baa blundered.
I've just bin a-readin’the old man’s speech,
Wbar be says that far on the sandy beach
Of Santo Domingo wnss Kn-Klnxea screech,
Grate large ones, far, far surpasain’
The Southern breed: but that ain’t shucks;
He says that Grant’s flier leader.
That Grant hisselfs a old he Ku-Klux,
A reg’lar Kn-Klnx breeder 1
“ I’ll read yon,” says I, “bnt whar’s my epex?
1 thought that I laid ’em right thar, jest nex
To that newspaper — Nancy, whar air my
spex?”
And I fombled and grambled horrid.
Bat presently I looked at Jeems,
His jaws was fa’rly breakin’
And Nancy nigh bad bnst her scams,
So hard her sides was shakin’.
And they both set tbar and laughed at me
’Twell wife pnt her arms f uU tenderlee
’Round my neck, and says “ Thar, old man,
they be,
Atop o’ yonr own old forxid!"
Bat .Teems laughed on, a good long while,
’Twell finally he spluttered,
“ Well, well, I swan, I’ve hed a smile!”
And then, agin bo stuttered.
Bnt at last he says, “I’ve seed a sight
Which it makes mo b’leevo that Snmner’s
right,
And that Grant's like yon, so foil o’ spite
A-fumblin* and a-grantin’
To find ont whar the Kn-Klnx teas,
(As yon yonr old epectickles)
Twell he got hisself in ench a buzz
And sich a muddle o’ pickles.
That he clean forgot (what Nancy see)
To feel of hisself right keerfnllee,
Far perhaps he’d a found that hisself might be
The identickel thing he was hnntin!”
S. L.
Jealonx.
BX KESTEB A. BENEDICT.
I.
If I should loan across the jasper-wall,
With heaven’s own lilies on my bosom now,
And, white and radiant, let my kisses fall
Through voicefnl calms npon thine earthly brow;
If my low crieB should roach yon from the sky,
With moans for tonebea of tby kingly palm;
Say 1 would yon know how wholly true am I
That kneel beside theo now so still and calm?
n.
Or. if before yon I should stand to-day
Whero seraphim are standing fair and sweet,
And 1 witb my breath npon yonr eyelids—say:
“ The way was long and lonely for my feet
What time I walked without yon 1” would you read
The secret of my secret eonl aright—
As lie has read, who gladly giveth meed
Of tenderest love to lives of little light ?
in.
I dare bolieve it! To my wounded heart
I take this consolation; when at last
Tbs tidal-waves that diifted ns apart
For aye on earthly seas, have kindly cast
Us safe on Heaven’s own ehoreland, yon will know
How much yon wronged tho soul that keepeth
white
And clean its raiment for thy sake! And so,
Until that dear day dawnctb, sweet, “Good
* night.”
Philadelphia. [Golden Age,
A S300.000 Conflagration.—Albany,. N,. Y
April 7.—Ono of the most extensive conflagra
tions occurring in this city took place this morn
ing, and destroyed the large printing houso of
Weed, Parsons & Co., and nearly an entire
block of small boilings. The total los3 will reach
$300,000.
By tho fire this morning over 300 people were
thrown out of employment. The Ann of "Weed,
Parsons & Co. sustained a loss of §350,000
above their insurance, which amounts to §100,-
000. The other losses are reported at nearly
$100,000. The remains of the unknown man
were found this morning in the rains.
The Kentucky Register says that a colored
tain residing near KirkviUe, Madison county,
was taken from his house on the night of the
22d nit., by a gang of ruffians, who beat him
unmercifully, telling him that they did so be
cause had voted a Democratic ticket.
The bridge across tho Niagara river at Bnf-
falo is Boon to be begun. The means to build
it have been obtained, and it is expected that it
will be finished and in use in the course of the
Year 1872.
Cattain Hait, announces that ho will take no
*at men on his Arctic expedition, they being
less able than lean ones to stand tho cold.
•jouiba Muhlbach has just laid tho one hun-
at »d and first volume of her novels before the
reading public of Germany.
fathead Indians are anxious to have
Pol °t thCir tribe a PP ointe< * a cadet at West
BX FATHER EVAN.
A baby played with tho surplice sleeve
Of a gentle Priest—while in accents low
The sponsor mnmrared the grand “I believe,”
And the Priest bade the mystic waters flow
“In the name of tho Father, of the 8od,
And of the Holy Spirit”—Three in One.
Spotless as a lily’s leaf I
Whiter than the Christmas enow!
Not a shade of sin or grief—
And tne Babe laughed sweet and low.
A smile flitted over the Baby’s face
Or was it the gleam of its angel’s wing
Just passing then ? and leaving a trace
Of its presence, as it soared to sing
A hymn, when words and waters win
To grace and life a child of sin ?
Not an ontward sign or token
That the child was saved from woe—
Bnt the bonds of sin were broken,
And the Babe laughed sweet and low.
A cloud rose np to the Mother’s eyes—
And ont of the clond grief’s rain fell fast;
Came the Baby’s smileB and tho Mother's sighs
Ont of the Fntnre, or tho Past?
Ah! gleam and gloom must ever meet,
And gall must minglo with tho sweet!
Yea 1 npon her Baby’s laughter
Trickled tears—’tis always so—
Mothers droad the dark Hereafter—
Bnt her Babe laughed sweet and low.
And the years, like waves’ broke on tho shore
Of the Mother's heart, and her Baby’s life—
Bnt her lone heart drifted away before
Her little boy knew an hour of strife!
Drifted away on a Summer eve
Ere the orphaned boy knew how to grieve.
Her humble grave was gently made
Whero roses bloomed in Summer’s glow;
Tho wild birds sang where her heart was laid,
And her Boy—laughed sweet and low.
He floated away from his Mother’s gravo,
Like a fragile flower on a bright stream’s tide 1
Till ho heard the moan of the mighty wave
That wolcomcd tbo stream to tbo ocean wido!
Ont from the shore and over the deep,
He sailed away—and he learned to weep ?
Farrowed grew the face, once fair—
Under storms of human woe;
Silver gray the bright, brown hair;
And ho wailed so sad and low.
And years swept on, as erst they swept;
Bright wavelets once—wild billows now;
Wherever he sailed—ho ever wept
And a clond hung o’er his brow,
Over the deep and into tbo dark,
Bnt no one knew where sank his bark.
Wild roses watched the Mother’s tomb,
The world still laughed—’tis ever so;
God only know the Baby’s doom
That langhed so sweet and low 1
HIGH WATCS MARK.
A Thrilling Adventnrc on Dedlow Harsh.
BY BEET HAUTE. •
Let me recall a story which never failed to re
cur to my mind in my long gunning excursions
upon Dedlow Marsh. Although the event waf
briefly recorded in the county paper, I had the
story, in all its eloquent detail, from tho lips of
the principal actor. I cannot hope to catch tho
varying emphasis and peculiar coloring of fem
inine delineation, for my narrator was a woman;
bnt I’ll try to givo at least its substance.
She lived midway of the great slough'of Dod-
low Marsh and a good-sized river, which de
bouched four miles beyond into an estnary
formed by the Pacific Ocean, on the long sandy
peninsula which constituted tho northwestern
boundary of a noble bay. The house in which
she lived was a small frame cabin raised from
the marsh a few feet by stont piles, and was
three miles distant from the settlements npon
theriver. Her hnsband was alogger—a profitable
business in a country where the principal occu
pation was the manufacture of lumber.
It was the season of early spring, when her
hnsband left on the ebb of a high tide, with a
raft of logs for the nsnal transportation to the
lower end of the bay. A3 she stood by the
door of the little cabin when the voyagers de
parted she noticed a cold look in the &>ntheast-
ern sky, and she remembered hearing her hns
band say to his companions that they must en
deavor to complete their voyage before the
coming of the southwesterly gale which he saw
brewing. And that nlght'it began to’storm and
blow harder than she had ever before experi
enced, and some great trees fell in the forest
by the river, and the house rocked like her ba
by’s cradle.
Bnt however the storm might roar about the
little cabin, she knew that one she trusted had
driven bolt and bar with his own strong hand,
and that bad ho feared for her he wonld not
have left her. This, and her domestic duties,
and tho care of her little Bickly baby, helped to
keep her mind from dwelling on the weather,
except, of course, to hope that he was safely
harbored with tho logs at Utopia in the dreary
distance. Bnt she noticed that day, when she
went ont to feed the chickens and look after
the cow, that the tide was np to tho little fence
of their garden patch, and the roar of the surf
on the sonth beach, though miles away, she
could hear distinctly. And she began to think
that she wonld liko to have some one to talk
with about matters, and she believed that if
it had not been eo far and so stormy, and the
trail so impassable, she would have taken the
baby and have gone over to Hackman’s, her
nearest neighbor. Bnt then, yon see, he might
have returned in the storm, all wet, with no one
to see to him; and it was a long exposure for
baby, who was cronpy and ailing.
Bnt that night, she never could tell why, she
didn’t feel like sleeping or even lying down.
The storm had somewhat abated, bnt she still
“sat and sat,” and even tried to read. I don’t
know whether it was a Bible or some profane
magazine that this poor woman read, bnt most
probably the latter, for tho words all ran to
gether and made snch sad nonsense that she
was forced at last to put tho book down and
turn to that dearer volume whioh lay before her
in the cradle, with its white initial leaf as yet
unsoiled, and try to look forward to its myste
rious fntnre. And rocking the cradle, she
thought of every thing and every body, bnt
still was wide awake as ever.
It was nearly twelve o’clock when she at last
laid down in her clothes. How long she slept
she could not remember, bnt she awoke with a
dreadful choking in her throat, and found her
self standing, trembling all over, in the middle
of the room, with her baby clasped to her breast
and she was “saying something.” The baby
cried and sobbed, and she walked np and down
trying to hash it, when she heard a scratching
at the door. She opened it feaxfally, and was
glad to see it was only old Pete, their dog, who
crawled, dripping with water, into the room.
She wonld like to have looked ont, not in the
faint hope of her husband’s coming, bnt to see
how things looked; bnt the wind shook the door
so savagely that she conld hardly hold it. Then
she sat down a little while, and then walked up
and down a little while, and then she lay down
again a little while. Lying close by the wall of
tne little cabin, she thought she heard once or
twice something scrape slowly against the clap
boards, like the scraping of branches. Then
there was a little gurgling sound, “like the baby
made when it was swallowing;” then something
went “click-click” and “cluck-clnok,” so that
she sat np in bed. When she did so sho was
attracted by something else that seemed dop
ing from the back door towards the center of
tho room. It wasn’t much wider than her little
finger, but soon it swelled to the width of her
band, and began to spread all over the floor. It
W£ls water.
She ran to the front door and threw it wide
open, and saw nothing but water. She ran to
tho back door and threw it open, and saw noth
ing bnt water. She ran to the side window,
and throwing that open, she saw nothing but
water. Then she remembered hearing her hus
band once say there was no danger in the tide,
for that fell regularly, and people conld calcu
late on it; and that he would rather live on the
bay than tho river, whose banks might overflow
at any time. Bnt was it the tide ? So she ran
again to the back door and threw ont a stick of
wood. It drifted away towards the bay. Sho
scooped np some water and pnt it eagetly to
her lips. It was fresh and sweet. It was the
nver, and not the tide!
It was then—O, God be praised for his good
ness 1 she did neither faint nor fall; it was
then—blessed be the Savior, for it was IBs mer
ciful hand that touched and strengthened her
in this awful moment—that fear dropped from
her like a garment, and her trembling ceased.
It was then and thereafter that sho never lost
her self-command, through all the trials of that
gloomy night
She drew the bedstead toward the middle of
the room, and placed a table npon it and on that
she pnt the cradle. The water on the floor was
already over her ankles, and the house once or
twice moved so perceptibly, and seemed to be
racked so, that the closet doors all flew open.
Then she heard the same rasping and thumping
against the wall, and, looking ont saw that a
large uprooted tree, which had lain near the
roadat the upper end of the pasture, had floated
down to the house. Lnckily, its long roots
dragged in the soil and kept it from moving as
rapidly as the current, for had it struck the
house in its full career, even the strong nails
and bolts in the piles conld not have withstood
tho shock. The hound had leaped npon its
knotty surface, and cronched near tho roots
shivering and whining. A ray of hope flashed
across her mind. Sho drew a heavy blanket
from the bed, and wrapping it abont the babe,
waded in tho deepening waters to the door. As
the tree swung again, broadside on, making tho
little cabin creak and tremble, she leaped on to
its trank. By God’s mercy she succeeded in
obtaining a footing on its slippery surface, and,
twining on arm abont its roots, she held in the
other her moaning child. Then something
cracked near the front porch, and the whole
front of the house she had just quitted fell for
ward—jost as cattle fall on their knees before
they lie down—and at the same moment the
great redwood tree swung round and drifted
away with its living cargo into the black night.
For all the excitement and danger, for all her
soothing of her crying babe, for all the whistling
of tho wind, for all the uncertainty of her situ
ation, she still turned to look at the deserted
and water-swept cabin. She remembered even
then, and she wonders how foolish she was to
think of it at that time, that she wished she had
pnt on another dress and the baby’s best clothes;
and she kept praying that the honse wonld bo
spared so that ho, when be returned, wonld have
something to come to, and it wouldn’t be quite
so desolate, and—how conld he ever know what
had become of her and her baby ? And at the
thought she grew sick and faint. Bnt sho bad
something else to do besides worrying, for
whenever the loDg roots of her ark struck an
obstacle, tho whole trank made half a revolu
tion, and twice dipped her in the black water.
Tbo hound, who kept distracting her by running
np and down the tree and howling, at lost fell
off at one of these collisions. Ho swam for
some time beside her, and she tried to get the
poor beast npon the tree, bnt he “acted silly”
and wild, and at last she lost sight of him for
ever. Then she and her babe were left alone.
The light which had homed for a few minutes
in the deserted cabin was ’quenched suddenly.
She conld not thenteH whither she was drifting.
The outline of the white dnnes on the penin
sula showed dimly ahead, and sho judged the
tree was moving in a line with the river. It
must be abont slack water, and she had probably
reachod the eddy formed by the continence of
the tide and the overflowing waters of the river.
Unless the tide fell soon there was present dan
ger of her drifting to its channel, and being
carried ont to sea or crushed in the floating
drift. That peril averted, if she were carried
ont on the ebb toward the bay, sho might hope
to strike one of the wooded promontories of the
peninsula, and rest till daylight. Sometimes
sho thought she heard voices and shonts from
the river, and the bellowing of cattle and bleat
ing of sheep. Then again it was only the ring
ing in her eaTS and throbbing of her heart.
She found at abont this time that she was so
chilled and stiffened in her cramped position
that she conld scarcely move, and the baby
cried so when she pnt it to her breast that she
noticed the milk refused to flow; and she was
so frightened at that, that she put her head un
der her shawl, and for the first timo cried bit
terly.
When sho raised her head again, the boom
of the' snrf was behind her, and she knew that
her ark had again swung round. She dipped
up the water to cool her parched throat, and
found that it was salt as her tears. There was
a relief, though, for by this sign she knew that
she was drifting with the tide. It was then the
wind went down, and the great and awfnl silence
oppressed her. There was scarcely a ripple
against the farrowed sides of the great trnnk
on which she rested, and aronnd her was all
black gloom and quiet. She spoke to the baby
jnst to bear herself speak, and to know that she
had not lost lur voice. She thought then—it
was queer, but she conld not help thinking it—
how awful must have been tho night when the
great ship swung over the Asiatio peak, and the
sounds of creation were blotted ont from the
world. She thought, too, of mariners clinging
to spars, and of poor women who were lashed
to rafts, and beaten to death by tho crnel sea.
She trie d to thank God that she was thus spared,
and lifted her eyes from the baby who had fallen
into a fretful sleep. Suddenly, away to the
southward, a great light lifted itself ont of the
gloom,- and flashed and flickered, and flickered
and flashed again. Her heart flattered qniokly
against the baby’s cold cheek. It was the light
house at the entrance of the bay. As she was
yet wondering, the tree snddenly rolled a little,
dragged a little, and then seemed to lie qniet
and stilL She pnt ont her hand and tho enrrent
gargled against it. The tree was aground, and,
by the position of the light and the noise of the
snrf, aground npon (he Dedlow Marsh.
Had it not been for her baby, who was ailing
and cronpy, had it not been for the sadden dry
ing up of that sensitive fountain, she would
have felt safe and relieved. Perhaps it. was
this which tended to make all her impressions
mournful and gloomy. As the tide rapidly fell,
a great flock of black brent flattered by her,
screaming and crying. Then, the plover flew
np and piped mournfully, as they wheeled
around the trank, and at last fearlessly lit upon
it like a gray cloud. Then the heron flew over
and aronnd her, shrieking and protesting, and
at last dropped its gaunt legs only a few yards
from her. Bat, strangest of all, a pretty white
bird, larger than a dove—like a pelican, bnt
not a pelican—oircled aronnd and aronnd her.
At last it lit npon a rootlet of the tree, quite
over her shoulder. She pnt ont her band and
stroked its beautiful white neck, and it never
appeared to move. It stayed there so long that
she thought she wonld lift np the baby to see
it, and try to attract her attention. Bnt when
she did so, the child was so chilled and cold,
and had snch a bine look npon the little lashes, ‘
which it didn’t raise at all, that she screamed
aloud, and the bird flew away, and she fainted.
Well, that was the worst of it, and perhaps it
was not so much, after all, to any one bnt her
self. For when she recovered her senses it was
bright sunlight, and dead low water. There
was a confused noise of guttural voices abont
her, and an old squaw, singing an Indian
“hushaby,” and rocking herself from side to
side, before a fire built on the marsh, before
which she, the recovered wife and mother, lay
weak and weary. Her first thought was for her
baby, and she was abont to speak, when a young
squaw, who must have been a mother herself,
fathomed her thought and brought her the
“ mowitch,” pale but living, in sneh a queer
little willow cradle all bound np, just like
squaw’s own yonng one, that she langhed and
cried together, and the young and the old squaw
showed their big white teeth and glinted their
black eyes and said, “Plenty get well, skeena
mowitch; waggee man come plenty soon,”and
she conld have kissed their brown faces in her
joy. And then she found that they had been
gathering berries on the marsh in their queer,
comical baskets, and saw the skirt of her gown
fluttering on the tree from afar, and the old
squaw couldn’t resist the temptation of procu- ;
ring a new garment, and came down and dis
covered the “wagee” woman and child. And
of course she gave the garment to the old squaw,
as you may imagine, and when he came at last
and rushed up to her, looking abont ten years
older in bis anxiety, she felt so faint again that
they had to carry her to the canoe. For, you
see, he knew nothing abont the flood until he
met the Indians at Utopia, and knew by the
signs that the poor woman was his wife. And
at the next high tide he towed the tree away
back home, althonghit wasn’t worth the trouble,
and bnilt another honse, using the old tree for
the foundation and props, and called it after
her, “Mary Ark!” Bat you may guess the next
honse was bnilt above high.water mark. And
that’s all.
Not much, perhaps, considering the malevo
lent capacity of tho Dedlow Marsh. Bnt you
may tramp over it at low water, or paddle over
it at high tide, or get lost npon it once or twioe
in the fog, as I have, to understand properly
Mary’s adventure, or to appreciate duly the
blessings of living beyond high-water mark.
[From the Newbem Journal of Commerce.
Colton and Cotton Boll PIcRer—Pat
ent Issued Biarch 38,1871, to Blsjor
John Hughes, ofJSenbero, N. C.
This machine is not what is strictly denomi
nated a “cotton picker.” Man’s ingenuity will
and has expended itself in vain, in endeavoring
to get np such a device, for until human intel
ligence can be imparted to machinery, cotton
per sc can never be picked by it, for the simple
reason, that the bolls open unevenly and at
different times, hence it is necessary that dis
crimination must be use in picking it, the ripe
and open bolls most be selected and the unripe
ones left, and this can only be done by a power
governed and controlled by reason and intelli
gence.
This new invention contemplates immense
saving in labor and material in the cultivation
of cotton—it looks to the gathering at one time
of tho entire crop like all other crops, it looks
to remedying the great and growing want of
the age, viz: the scarcity and expensiveness of
labor.
The plan proposed is this: to allow all the
cotton or as much thereof as cannot be conve
niently and economically picked by hand be
fore that time, to remain on the stalk until the
frost strikes it—then the machine is to be placed
at once in the field and everything, open cotton
and cotton bolls, both large and small, will be
at once gathered and carried to the gin-house,
when by another machine invented by the same
party, all the unopened boll3 will be at once
opened and the cotton picked from them, as
well as the already opened bolls. In this way
all tbe expense of band picking will be saved
and tbe entire crop wiH be secured, whereas
now tho picking of that which opens by sun or
frost, is exceedingly costly and very irksome to
the planter, besides which from one-fif th to one-
third of the entire crop is lost by reason of
many of the bolls never opening at all. •
It may not be generally known, bnt it is nev
ertheless trae, that every boll, no matter how
green or small, even if no larger than a marble,
has good cotton in it, and by this process all this
is saved. Besides this Ml the cotton boll hulls
will thus be saved at the gin honse where they
can readily be utilized for manure.
Tbe principal features of this valuable inven
tion are as follows: In front of a wagon tho
body of which is lower behind than in front, are
arraigned two stationary horizontal cylinders,
npon at tho top with inclined planes tending to
a common centre, abont these revolve cases
npon which are arranged rows of carved teeth
or combs, those teeth engage the limbs or
branches of the cotton plant and strip from it
all the bolls, these are carried np to the top of
the open cylinders into which they drop upon
the inclined planes, from which they pass in a
oondnit into the body of the wagon. A3 soon
as the wagon is fall they ore transferred to an
other and carried at once to shelter. The rev
olution of the frame containing the teeth is pro
duced by gearing attached to the wheels of the
the wagon and i3 in reverse direction to the
movements of the wheels.
The machine above described is intended to
pick two rows of cotton at the same time and it
is estimated that it will pick six acres or more
per day. If it fulfills what it promises it will
make the Southern planters comparatively in
dependent on the labor question, and pnt mil
lions ot additional dollars into their pockets an
nually.
DODGING THE REVENUE.
Bow nil Inquisitorial Tax Developes the
Imitative ventns or the Country—The Ro
mance of Crime.
The fact that revenue stamps, mostly of large
denominations, have for a year or so, being
“cleaned" after being cancelled by the brokers
and mercantile men who use them, has been
well known to the government authorities. Bnt
the operators, who cleaned ont the cancelling by
means of acids and chemicals conld not be con
victed, for the reason that if fonnd selling the
stamps they stated that they were under the im
pression that tho stamps were genuine, and
wonld say they obtained them from some one
else. Colonel 'Whitely, of the Secret Service,
beard that a yonng man named Miller was sell
ing revenue stamps among the Wall street
brokers at a discount of ten per oent., and came
to tbe conclusion that the stamps thus sold were
cleaned. By a rase, Miller was induced to sell
one stamp of §30 to a secret service officer for
§40, and made an appointment to sell another
one yesterday. The stamp, when examined,
was found to have been cleaned, and when Mil
ler came to sell the other stamp yesterday he
was arrested. The secret service officers then
arrested Charles B. Scribner, and looked them
np in Police Headquarters. Charles H. Scribner
is 24 years of age, and a very gentlemanly young
fellow. He was said to be the prime mover
in tbe affair, and in his residence was found a
valise containing “cleaned” and cancelled rev
enue stamps, principally §50 ones, amounting
in all to abont §12,000. Scribner made a state
ment, in whioh he said that five years ago he
was in the insurance business, and left it after a
oouple of yearn’ experience. He then became
a cleik in a broker’s office, at No. 15 New street,
and while there another yonng man, with whom
he was slightly intimate, told him of an easy
way to make money by taking ont tbe cancell
ing of the .revenue stamps by means of chloride
of soda. Scribner then went to No. 18 New
street, and from there to a broker’s office at 2S
Broad street. While he was there he married
a beautiful girl from Massachusetts. On leaving
26 Broad street, destitute of money, and having
to sapport his wife, he fonnd himself unable to
get work, and as a last resource set to “clean
ing” revenue stamps. Daring the last year he
sold over §1,000 worth of “cleaned” Btamps.
He became acquainted with Miller, who is the
son of a formerly wealthy planter in Sonth
Carolina, who lost his property daring tho war.
He and Miller cleaned the stamps in Scribner’s
residence, and of late Miller sold them among
the brokers. In regard to the sale of these
“cleaned” stamps Miller stated that nearly all
the stamps now nsed in Wall street on stock
tickets are cleaned. The prisoners will be taken
before an United States Commissioner to-day.
— World. m[
The Beal Ku-klnxes.
The New York Snn, of Saturday, says:
Tbe real Kn-klnxcs wbo ought to be put down
by national legislation are not the ruffians, real
or imaginary, whose exploits are made so much
of, bnt tbe living, flesh and blood scoundrels in
offioial station, who are doing their best to im
poverish and destroy the whole fabric of society
in the Sonth.
Since the close of the war every Southern
Stato has been cursed with a swarm of adven-
tnrers from the North, who, having failed to
gain a living at homo by either honest or dishon
est labor, and having no reputation except a bad
one to leave behind them, have sought this new
and untried field wherein to retrieve their for
tunes. Somo had been hangers on in the wake
of onr armies, bnt more prudently waited till
all the fighting was over, and then descended
on their prey. Taking advantage of the dis
franchisement of the native-born citizens, or
availing themselves of Federal patronage, they
hive foisted themselves into plaoes of power
and profit, which they have fearfully abused,
to their own advantage and the nun of their
helpless victims. ‘ .
The Beautiful World.
A charming child’s poem npon the world is brief
enongh to be given without abridgement:
“Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world,
With the wonderful water round yon cnrled,
And the wonderful grass npon your breast,
World, yon are beautifully drest.
“The wonderful air is over mo.
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree,
It walks on the water and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the top of the hills.
“Yon, friendly Earth 1 how far do yon go
With the wheat-field^that nod and the rivers that
flow.
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,
And people npon yon for thousands of miles ?
“Ah, yon are so great, and I am so small,
I tremble to think of you, World, at all;
And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,
A whisper inside me seemed to say,
‘You are more than the Earth, though you are such
a dot.
Yon can love and think, and the Earth cannot 1’ ”
THE CURSE OF MILLIONS.
Aator Hoarding Against a Rainy Day-
Rich Men Committing: Suicide.
New Yoik Correspondence of Boch&ster Democrat.]
It is very hard for mankind to believe that
wealth, unimproved, brings misery; bnt that
such is the fact is occasionally made manifest in
a most fearfnl manner. We have a few rich men
who are as happy as money can make them, and
the reason of this is simply that they are shar
ing that wealth with objects of benevolenoe.
These men are William E. Dodge, A. B. Wet-
more, James Lenox, Peter Cooper, and others,
who have learned that this is the only way in
which they can eliminate from wealth its other
wise inevitable curse. With these exceptions,
the richest men in this city are intensely miser
able. This can be proved by those who are in
greatest intimacy with them. For instance, the
writer knows from the best authority that John
Jacob Astor was haunted by fears of poverty
during tbe latter part of bis life to a painful
degree, and be also knows that this is a very
common curse endured by onr rich men. Wil
liam B. Astor, with an estate of thirty millions,
is industriously engaged in scraping together
his loose change, and thus trying to provide
against a rainy day.
A few years ago ono of the founders of the
banking house of Prime, Ward & King com
mitted snicide at his country seat at Asteria.
Ho was a retired man of large wealth, and had
every means of making life desirable, bnt the
misery of unemployed money and abilities
which should have been devoted to philanthro
py, drove him to self destruction. The same
statement applies to the late Charles M. Leupp.
He had made a great fortune in the leather
business and lived np town in sumptuous style,
possessing, among other distinctions, one of
the finest picture galleries in the city. Yet this
man finished his course with snioide, while in
the fullness of manhood and possessed of ability
which should have given him a distinction
higher than that of mere wealth.
Previons to this, one of the heaviest business
men in Exchange place suddenly arrested the
course of a lucrative business by a similar use
of his razor. Another capitalist threw himself
beneath the wheels of a locomotive, while Dan
Aukon, the butter merchant, and David Rea
both used the razor. Soarcely has the latter
been buried, when a similar instance occurs in
the suburbs of Brooklyn. Here an opulent mar
ket gardener and land speculator named Dit-
mars Daryea has jnst committed snicide by ta
king laudanum, leaving an estate worth $175,-
000. Of coarse he had a reason for doing this.
His wife had died some time previously, and
had bequeathed her estate, the value of which
was $7,000, to other parties than himself. Be
ing thu3 neglected, he had no resort bnt death,
in which he buried his troubles.
Seven thousand dollars wonld not be gener
ally considered an inducement to commit snl
cide; and yet I have known a rich man of this
city to be distressed by the loss of §500 that he
finished the matter by hanging himself. Bnt, at
any rate, seven thousand was a fatal sum to
Ditmars Daryea. Its loss was so great a clond
that it obscured the glory of those possesions
which were twenty times as great, and the re
sult is a bottle of laudanum and a coroner’s
inqnest. It may be inferred that these exam
ples indicate what a widespread disposition to
wards snicide exists among rich men, for where
one commits the fatal act there must be many
wbo are tempted, bnt refrain. It is well known
that many of this class cany poison in their
pockets, and are ready at any moment when
the temptation becomes triumphant to swallow
their fatal do3e. I know several snccessfnl
business men wbo have given snch threatening
signs of conduct that their friends are obliged
to watch them for fear that they may end in
jnst snch a tragedy.
The Perils of Circumstantial Evi
dence.
Front the Cleveland Herald]
A remarkable case, showing the danger ot
trusting inplicitlyto circumstantial evidence,
has just been concluded in Toledo. Nearly
three years ago Robert Sharp was fonnd dead,
with shot and sings in hia brain. A man named
Harrington, who had been on intimate terms
with the deceased, was arrested forthe murder.
The testimony was wholly circumstantial, bnt
so skillfully “worked np” by the detectives that
Harrington was oonvicted and sent to the peni
tentiary. His lawyers had become interested
in the case, and although Harrington was a poor
man, they determined to fight his oaose to the
end. After a long and arduous straggle through
the District and Supreme Courts an order for a
new trial was obtained, and that trial has jnst
closed.
The main points in the evidenoe on which he
was convicted were the apparent correspondence
of the shot in the body of the dead man with
that in the shot-bag belonging to Harrington;
the correspondence of pieoes of newspaper
found near the scene of the supposed murder,
and assumed to be part of the gnn-wadding,
with a tom paper in Harrington’s residence
and a piece in his vest pocket; and that the
motive for the murder was to be found in the
alleged fact of Sharp having come to Toledo
with seven hundred dollars of money, whioh
Harrington knew, and that no one else was so
intimate with Sharp. On the second trial it was
rendered donbtfnl whether there was a similar
ity in the shot. It was clearly proven that the
pieces of paper alleged to have been picked up
at the scene of the murder were not there at the
time of the finding of the body, nor for a day
or two afterwards, and the inference was una
voidable that they were pnt thereby the detect
ives to aid them in “ working np” the case
againBt Harrington. It was further proven that
Sharp was destitute when he arrived in Toledo,
and that Harrington was doing his best to aid
him in procuring employment To crown all,
an alibi was clearly and satisfactorily proven-
Harrington was deolared innocent, and th« J nr 7
voluntarily gave him a letter, signed by ovary
member, repeating in emphatio terms their be
lief of his entire innocence ot any knowledge of
the supposed murder, and bearing testimony to
his uniform good cb*raoter. The publio senti
ment unanimously ooinoided with the verdict.
The former employer of Harrington immedi
ately took him back into his service. '
Hebe is a conundrum for the Sorosisters:
“S’posing that—a—now Olive Logan, Cr in
stance, should be made President of this great
and glorious country, bequeathed to ns by noble
sires, and all that, she’d be President Logan,
wouldn’t sho? Well, now, s’posing she was to
marry, say a man by tbo name of—of Perkins,
f’r instance, would sho be President Logan or
President Perkins ?” Sealed answers may be
gent in at any time before the morning of the
woman’s rights millennium.
A Boston man advertises “Hair Tea.” Hair
goes first-rate in boardinghouse hash, and there
is no good reason why it won’t work in' tea.
But it must be blonde hair, or the tea will be
black tea.—Hew York democrat. ■ i '•
A man, woman, eight ohilden, and two bears
occupy two small rooms in Portland, Oregon.
Foreign Notes.
fbebabed for the telegraph and messenger]
Anarchy in Paris is growing greater from day
to day; fortunately the insurrection seems to
be drawing to a close, as the troops of the Gov
ernment are steadily gaining ground. Should
the suppression of the mob be still tnuoh de
layed, the Germans may, probably, be induced
to aid in restoring order. The events of the
last few weeks show oonolusively that Napoleon
thoroughly understood his oountrymen and
treated them according to their merits. Self-
government in France having again proved so
signal a failure, we would not be surprised by
an early restoration of Napoleon, who is stiil
powerfully supported by the agricultural popu
lation and the clerical element. France withia
the last seventy years has undergone so many
changes that we almost pause to ask, “Are the
Latin races really degenerating?" One step
farther and Franoe will present the sad specta
cle of the Latin Sonth American Republics
which are in a chronio state of revolutionary
warfare.
The special correspondent of the London
Times in Paris has published a few additional
particulars concerning the execution of Generals
Thomas and Lecomte by the committee of rev
olution. Thomas, having learned that his ad
jutant had fallen into the hands of the insur
gents, conoluded to make a walk through the
city to ascertain his fate. As a measure of pre
caution he adopted a civilian’s dress. When
the General had arrived in the Place Pigalle, an
insurgent, a brutal looking fellow, recognized
him by bis fall white beard. Approaching
Thomas he inquired: “Are yon Gen. Clement
Thomas?” “No,” was the first reply of the
General. “I do not think I am mistaken,” the
insurgent continued, “I recognize you by your
white beard.” “Well, suppose I am Thomas,”
the General replied, “what would it matter?
Have I not at all times done my duty ?” “You
are a villain and a traitor,” cried the insurgent,
grasping the aged General by the collar of his
coat. Several other ruffians were soon on the
spot and dragged Thomas to the Rue des Hos
iers, where the Central Committee, being in
session, condemned him to be shot. At 6 o’clock
at night, one hour after his arrest, he was led bn .?j nes f’. ® 6T - J- H- McHan and Dr. A . L.
t. tt! g.rf« b„ .decs™. oAh. National ’S»’22«S “S
Guards. During the whole time the General
had never lost his self-possession. He faced his
murderers with a proud military mien, holding
his hat in his hand. Instead of a simultaneous
discharge, as is the general custom on snch oc
casions, the soldiers fired singly one by one.
Each ballet hit its victim, bnt the General con
tinued erect and immobile, until the fifteenth
bullet, entering the head below the right eye,
struck him down. Gen. Lecomte was soon after
this infamous assassination brought to the gar
den. He was very pale, and, with his hand9
crossed on his breast, murmured some feeble
words of protestation. The honor ot fusillad
ing Lecomte had devolved npon the 88th regi
ment of the line. “Yonr hour is come,” cried
the soldiers, “yon have given orders to fire npon
the people!’’ A moment later the General was
a corpse.
Amadeo opened the session of the Spanish
Cortes in person. In his speech from the
throne he expressed an ardent hope for the pa
cification of Cuba, and a strong desire for the
resumption of relations with the Holy See.
Among many reforms he recommended, the
King especially mentioned the finances of the
country. Tho speech was repeatedly inter
rupted by the cheers of the Cortes.
The Journal de Bordeaux reports that the
Dnke of Montpensier will not retnrn to France,
bnt continue in Spain aB the head of a political
party. As the youngest son of Louis Phillippe
he was, like all the Orleans and Bourbons,
banished from France daring Napoleon’s
reign.
There is little news from Italy. The Florence
press is again discussing the question of remov
ing the remains of Dante from Ravenna to that
city, where his memory is honored by splen
did monuments. It is proposed to deposit his
ashes in the church of Santa Croce. Even
Garibaldi seems to be disgusted with Frenoh
republicanism. He will not set foot again on
French soil, nor will his sons Bicootti and Mi-
notti take any part in the French civil war.
The followers of Garibaldi who have returned
to Italy are also disappointed at the treatment
they have experienced in France, or at the grat
itude shown by the Frenoh. In the sitting of
the French National Assembly of March 7th,
Maro Dorfraisse, the Prefeot of Nice, said; “I
feel bnt small gratitude to Garibaldi since he
assisted to establish Italian unity, which was
the mother of German unity. The “Italia
Nnova,” an organ of the moderate party, which
is edited by Baxgoni, the former Minister of In
struction, after commenting on the monstrous
ingratitude of such a declaration, remarks: “In
truth, the expressions nsed by citizen Dorfraisse
embody, in the most brutal form, the complete
theory of Monsieur Thiers, which maintains
that France cannot be great unless she is Bur-
rounded by powerful States. All the misfor
tunes of the country have not destroyed the
morbid and arrogant supposition that the whole
purpose of history consists in making France
great, powerful and glorious. Is this the con
struction the French Republicans place on the
fraternity of the nations which they so loudly
proclaim. Do they desire to destroy the unity
of Italy in order to destroy that of Germany?
Is this to be the future policy of France ? It
is the very policy which led to her overthrow
and plunged her into the abyss of her present
misfortunes. We may rest assured that it will
not enable her to re-establish her power.”
Affairs in Bournania are not improving.
Though the Chamber has been sitting for three
months already, not one of the bills presented
by the government has been disposed, of. Dar
ing a recent session, two dozen ladies, whose
pensions were several months in arrears, made
suoh a terific noise in the gallery that they had
to be removed by force. No people has shown
such a noisy eympatby for Franoe as the
Roumainians. The principal journal of the
rinoipality is the “Bomannl,” the organ of the
'rime Minister, and an ardent champion of
Bed Republicanism. This paper, which loves
the bombas tie style of Victor Hugo, terms
Franoe the “Christ of nations,” while the Ger
mans are the Pharisees who crucify her. When
the news of the occupation of Paris by the Ger
mans arrived, the “Bomannl” appeared with a
black border, in order to express by a visible
sign the great grief whioh must fill the heart of
every Roumanian over the barbarian entry of
the Teuton hordes into the center of civilization,
culture and generosity. Truly! Paris marches
at the head of the civilization of tb« future!
The official “Government Advertiser” in St.
Petersburg, comments with great satisfaction
on the peaceful solution of the Pontus Question
by the London Copforence, and concludes that
“the new agreement had abolished those stipu
lations of treaty of Paris, which restricted
the sovereignty of Russia and Turkey on the
fU*ok Sea. There was no doubt, that not only
all Russians, but also all friends of peace and
justice would heartily rejoice at this work of
'European diplomacy. The new provisions re
strained nobody’s rights and asked from nobody
any sacrifices; they had only restored again
rights violated, removed a symbol of inter
national distrust and cemented the cordial rela
tions of the States of Europe.”
We have repeatedly alluded to the strong
Prussian sympathies existing in Austria among
the Selave population; in faot, the numerous
tribes of that nationality scattered in Austria,
Turkey and Ronmania are all looking towards
Russia to gather the Sdaves into a great Fan-
Sclavistio Empire. These hopes are well illus
trated by a gift of peculiar meaning, the Czech
colonists in Volhynia have forwarded to Prince
Don Zackow-Eossackow, IGovernor-GenoraT in
Kiew, to be presented to Alexander tbe Second
on his birthday and tho anniversary of the abo
lition of serfdom. The gift represents a mas
sive silvor waiter, tho Russian double-headed
eagle, grasping Moravia with one talon, and Bo
hemia with the other, being engraved inside.
The address, accompanying the magnificent of
fering spoke to Czar 03 the sovereign Lord of
Moravia, Bohemia and all Solavo countries, and
assured him of the undying devotion of all
Sdaves, tbe Czech in particular. Prince Don
Zackow-Kosaakow, thinking that the emblems
engraved on the plate and political sentiments
expressed in the address contrasted too much
with reality, returned the gift and address, ac
companied by a polite note whioh fully appre
ciated the loyal sentiments of the givers, but
advised them to preserve both for better timeeu
The Polish emigration in Paris has beooma
disorganized by the war. All political dubs
and societies for benevolent, seiantifio or social
purposes are dissolved, the national press,
which was not unimportant, has almost ceased
to exist for want of funds and subscribers. All
Polish institutions and establishments are on
the verge of ruin, and must count npon assist
ance from the Poles at home, Franoe being, at
present, too exhausted to spare much for suoh
purposes. All national papers in Posen and
Galicia have, therefore, started'subscriptions
with very good effect. The Polish emigrants
are also in great distress, bnt the fact that they
are ardent supporters of Red Republicanism,
has made them lose the sympathies of the
French. Jasno.
Macon Presbytery.
The spring session of this body began in the
Presbyterian Church on Wednesday evening,
the Sthinst., with a practical and forcible dis
course from Rev. S. 23. Gaillard. ' At its oondu-
sion, the Presbytery was constituted, and is com
posed of the following membera:
Ministers—Rev. David Wills, D. D., 8. 8.
Gaillard, J. H. Nall, William McKay, A. H.
Mathews, J. 8. Cozby, L. H. Wilson, and G. W.
Maxon, Licentiate. Elders—S. D. Irwin, D. F.
Wiloox, J. Creighton, Dr. Johnson, W. E. Diok-
ey and H. H. Jones.
The first order, whioh was the election of of-
fleers, resulted in the choice of Rev. L. H. Wil
son, Moderator, and Rev. W. McKay, Clerk,
pro tem.
On motion, Rev. Mr. Vanghn, of Hanover
PreBbytery, Virginia, the present supply of the
Maoon Church, was invited to sit as a corres
ponding member of Presbytery. Adjourned.
Thursday, 9 o’clock a. m.—Presbytery met,
and after the announcement of standing Com
mittees by the Moderator, and the reading of
the Journal, proceeded with the regular routine
corresponding members. We regret that want
of spaoe forbids the publication in the present
issue of any regular report of the proceedings
of the Presbytery.
The afternoon session was devoted to the
hearing of divers reports and statistics, rela
ting to tho several churches, and during a free
conversation on the state of religion, tonohing
and eloquent addresses were delivered by Dr.
Wills, Revs. Gaillard, Wm. McKay and Wilson,
and Elders Wilcox, Irwin and Maxon.
Much comfort and encouragement were de
rived from these exercises, and it is hoped that
the Lord of the harvest will continue to own and
bless this branch of his visible church.
Among the delegates may be seen the vener
able bnt ereot form of Father Dickey, patriarch
of the Presbytery. Long may he live to cheer
his brethren on these occasions, with his pres
ence, and illustrate that religion of whioh he
is a bright exemplar.
Dr. Wills drew a glowing picture of the con
dition of Oglethorpe University and the future
prosperity of this cherished institution. The
Doctor was never happier in his remarks.
The appointees to the General'Assembly are
Rev. David Wills, D. D., and Elder Patterson.—
Cuthbert Appeal.
A Monroe Connfy Family.
Monroe is a great county, and it has in the
Advertiser—a model newspaper—the best and
most industrious ehronioier of local affairs and
events we know of. The Advertiser of yester
day furnishes the following about
A Remarkable Family.—Mr. Carey Cox, of
this county, furnishes the following remarkable
genealogy. Mr. C. is nearly or quite ninety-
five years of age, very erect and in good health,
with a mind vigorous and strong, still making
a working member of the community. Here
is what he says:
"'My uncle, Rev. Carey Cox, a Baptist minis
ter of the “Old jScliool,” as he claims, is now
living in Pntnam county, Ga. He was 92 years
old October'l, 1870; his wife died dating the
war, at the age of SO years; they have had six*
teen children, 112 grandchildren, 152 great
grandchildren, and forty-seven great great
grand children; the whole number, including
uncles and aunts, is 820, beside sons-in-law ana
daughters-in-law, grand sons and daughters,
and great grand sons and danghters-in-law.
Sixty of his family were in the Confederate ser
vice. He is not a learned mas, yet ho has a
good stock of common sense; always made a
;ood living, was honest and upright in all hia
;ealings. He never was heard to use profane
-or obscene language, and never was intoxicated.
My oldest uncle died in his S4th year; next old
est in bis 93d; an aunt in her 90th. My father,
although daring a portion of his life intempe
rate, lived to be nearly 88 years old. The great
secret of long life is doubtless in industry, tem
perance and morality, together with all the other
graces taught in the word of God.”
Now there is but one misfortune abont snch a
notice as that. It will attract the attention of
the life insurers. All the companies will be af
ter risks in that family.
The Social Evil.
There are some curious returns in the report
on Prostitution in St Louis, as made to the
Board of Health. The list of registered prosti
tutes shows a decrease of 468 out of a total of
947, the list of houses of ill fame shows a de
crease of 29 out of 119. The cases of disease
ore IS against 58, a decrease of 40. The num
ber of cases of private disease treated in the
hospitals for eight months before the law went
into force was 539; during the eight months
since, it is 174. This last is the only really en
couraging feature in the system. The other
statements in regard to the decrease in the
number of prostitutes and of houses of ill-fame
and their frequenters, indicates the removal of
the evil to more sequestered places, away from
the vigilant inquiry of police officials. A simi
lar result followed in continental cities. Bat
the decrease in cases requiring medical treat
ment, when one considers the wide range occu
pied by the awful results of suoh disease, is
•efficient to commend the St. Louis Bystem to
tho consideration of other municipalities. As
to the causes of prostitution, the report states
that of the total number of women registered it
has been ascertained that 702 of them became
prostitutes from choice, 101 because they were
seduced, 87 because their husbands treated
them badly, and 57 from necessity.—Hero York
Commercial Advertiser.
South Carolina.—The Cincinnati Commer
cial has sent a correspondent to South Carolina
to the facts of “ the situation” in that
State. In his second letter he writes: “The
Legislature of South Carolina is a den of
thieves.” He also says:
“That is the way with your truly loyal South
Carolinian. The moment he is deprived of an
opportunity to steal from the treasury, he yells
rebeL The Legislature is as oorrupt as so many
New York back-alley oock-fightere, and so igno
rant that not a third of them could pass an ex
amination to teach a backwoods district school
In Ohio. S ’
If it were necessary to cite a ease to show how
advertising pays, we might mention how last
week this paper alluded to the income of A. T.
Stewart, amounting to the sum of $2 92 per
minute. ‘In less than 24 hours half a dozen
men called at his establishment to borrow his
income for a few minutes. He was down town
at the time, or he might have granted their re
quest.—N. Y. Democrat.
The story is related that Dr. Mary Walker is
going to aocompany Captain Hall on his Arotio
expedition. "We suggest toat there is stol a
mistake in the matter, and that the fair doctor
is in favor of women voting, and therefore she
is anxious to go to the poles. ^
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