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VOL. XVIII- BANNER 1 IS THE mi of the Sons of Temperance ” 9 AND OK THE State Convention of tieorgias PUBLISHED WEEKLY, by BENJAMIN BR ISTLY. Jr Tksmj —One Dollar a year,... advance. Letters must bo Postpaid, to received million. m ——— | Banner Almanack) tor 1b52. g i it a? ml 11 wlp-i i IlMiilli swmms ’*■ 11it1! 0.0 il **” ,;i 111 Ss!! 15 16 17 18 w 20 21 M JJ ll 520)27 2.6 S 22a 24 2S M272i g 2 $ J h Mh- 1 2! 3! 41 a 6 SP- -- -- 1 9L* 11 >1 11 15 1! 17 !’ ii 20 12113 14;12|*)|17j'8 K pgiSiaas 8 •i Aprll, llll ‘I h h ft I*ll3 1114 is: 16; 17 g*’ {5 **l2l gljj \* ft 2>i2>itf.Z3,~V u 1 31 1 V S\l7 ■|~ —l“Ti f j 7 l J Not 12 35; f. v A ~ if I*s! 15lHi 1? 7 M 910 1112,131^ X i 2 jl Hjl?, \\\'v\ M 15 Ifi 17 18 I? *) A 8 aWW BSB T ;h ; ?l,illili"—Til 1 5.!.! i | !!gj!|S||!S I 1 i l | f 126g!28j29 £ thVhaMtSdvmkin? ardent spirits, sjj Bi-SKSSsr- ) [iwhStai’.Mir”’ 1 ’ g g fwbStW- g V i Whence sdiJl. ( 1.5. When he sets op. g : Whsn he i.lire’y. j! g S \ 18. On A V o ” * S e is in ompn> ( 19. On nny day: or .X ■ j2tf.onanyoeca-lon. _ Temperance k sshould take the Temperance waif Temperance men will not support N the Temperance .Press, .who will _ Blacit Mountain, Worth Carolina- The Black Mountain 1 Who lias not heard of it ? Who among us has not seen it ? Who that does not desire to see it and lie upon it ? Standing as it does, a full head and shoulders above any mountain in America east of the itocky Mountains, it would do no dis credit to the standing, elevation and chaiacter of any one west of them, if Buncombe is its tnntherand Yancey its God-father ! Above the dark blue sea, wlT&se waters never rest, its summit sleeps in undisturbed serenity and com posure, at an elevation of 0,470 feet ; und whilst the sea rocks washes and scours the great bulk of the known world it rises like some tall clitT with a gran duer & sublimity that defy competition; opens the rain clouds, peers out above Cite storm, husbands the ice and snow of winter; gives life and beauty to an eternal green verdure; carpets itself with a dark green moss; is first to chal lenge the admiration of the sun, and lasfto witnesss its departure, receiving the first and last kiss of golden rays at morn and eve. Who would not stand Upon the top of an honored and time worn patriarch, and view a landscape from centre to circumference, which for its beauty, variety, extent and sub i'nv.b.y. is, perhaps, in unadorned nature, by any in the known world ? There are not many reading persons who have not heard of it; not a great many among us who have not had glimpses of it from some point; but there are hundreds and thousands who were horn and have been raised within thirty miles of it who know as little about it (more than it is the “ Black Mountain”) as they do about the “mountain in the moon;” and, without being particular, we were among the number, and though old enough for king, priest, pa triarch, or president. We had for years desired to wipe oft’the reproach, but one misfortune and another deprived us of the opportunity till Thursday, the 23d of October, 1851, when, after failing to induce several friends to accompany us for fear of the cold, the weather being a little frosty, we mounted our “ball against the field,” swung the “alpine horn” about us, and, in company with a Mr. A. S. Merritnon, we struck the “winding way,” chiming to ourselves, “ Away ! away, to the mountain brow, Where the streams are gently laving, Away! away 1” &c. •Ve left Asheville at 10 o’clock, A. M.,and with a moderate ride reached the‘-Lodge,” or Mount llor, a hand some improvement made at “Whitaker’s Spring,” on a spur ol the Black Moun tain, twenty-four miles from Asheville, htny^gsecured on the way the services of ‘v Jesse Stepp as guide. in the evening we partook of a plain repast; found our thermometer at 34; retired to rest, and at half-past four got up am prepared for the ascent: starting at a quarter before five, we made our ~ay up the steeps of the mountain, keeping the windings of the only path on it, under the dark foliage of the mil -ions ot balsam trees that cover it like oak for miles, as best we could, now and now out; “Excelsior” was in- scribed on our hearts, and tve were de termined to reach “ Mitchell’s Peak,” which is the highest point, by sunrise. After wo made the first long ascent, we gained the main ridge, leading to the “Potato Top,” next in height to the Black; this we kept for some distance, and then turned to the left, making a direct change for the main top, and though the ground was crusted and icy, perspiration flowed freely; and o’er rock und crag, and earih and moss, oa, on, “onward and upward” we went, toiling to make the ascent on one side while the sun was bursting out from the eyelids of morning to dash with the ve- j locity of lightning his brilliants upon the oihor. Occasionally we gave a blast from our horn which, though else-1 where clear and shrill, some how had* hero lost its voice, and it fell powerless j as one’s breath against a strong wind; j we listened in vain for the echo, and it j it ever found a home it was in heaven. As our favorite song says, “And again, sln.ll echo in heaven again.” Perhaps it did, but we can’t say. At lust we were ushered into an open plain of some four or five acres, per fectly destitute of every thing except grass, and the cold air struck us very sensible while passing through it; into the dark balsam forest we dashed again, and in two or three moments we shout ed “Eureka !” for we stood upon the highest pinnacle of the highest moun tain in America, and very considerably nearer heaven than we ever expected to be while editor of a country newspa per; but so it was, and so was it once with his brimstone majesty. The at mosphere was dear and beautiful; nothing to mar the sight but a long, white and variagated cloud, that stretch ed itself like a curtain across, over, be fore and behind the hills and mountain peaks below us, which was occasioned by the burning of the woods on the Swunnanoa side. We planted our guns, mounted the highest rock, and had hard ly time to look all round—a moment had not passed in all this time—till the glorious and beautiful sun ol the morn ing peered up from the dappled east, with a “brightness ofglbry,'’a dazzling brilliancy, an indescribable splendor, a fiery flashing of brightness that bailie all description, and that we have seen no where else upon earth or water. — VVehave often watched his rising and setting at sea ; we have seen him from hillside, from valley, from mountain, and from plain, but never before did we see him as from the Black Moun tain; never did we behold him literally “taking the wings of the morning and flying to the uttermost parts of the earth,” gilding with a thousand hues the whole earth iu his dazzling flight; and though we did not realize that we were “in the mountain of his holiness,” nor at “the city of our God,” yet we felt ti.at “the God who rules on high,” is a terrible, mighty God, in his majesty, Ids handiworks, and his omnipotence, and we involuntarily exclaimed, “Great are thy wondrous works!” In this in stance we did not behold “his footsteps in the sea,” nor see him “riding on the storm,” but wo saw him shooting his moral light from hill to hill, from moun tain to mountain, and from valley to valley, waking up and calling to action millions of creatures. Under these re flections we turned and saw the rays of his sun dashing from mountain to moun tain ; now here, now there, tipping tins peak, glancing that cliff, yon precipice, that hillside; and anon, as with one blaze, ho spread Ids omnipotence o’er the whole scene, leaving nothing, as far as the eye could see, upon which his rays and his brightness did not fall. Higher and higher he ascended, and now the mists began to clear away in the distance, and one object and anoth -1 er, in rapid succession, presented itself, : till we thought of the poet when he j said, j “And still new beauties may I see, i And still increasing light.” i And so it was; for in the east our eyes ; glanced rapidly upon the Blue Ridge, Table Mountain, liawk Bill, Brushy : Mountain, the Grandfather, Turkey Cock, and a multitude of others, appnr i ently rising in the distance, till the , background became one vast plain, as blue, as beautiful as the sea; on the north the Bald, the Tennessee, and the Paint Mountains were glistening in the sun; on the west the Craggy, the French Broad Range, Pisgah, Ilog Back, Look- j ing-Glass, Glassy, &c., studded the pic ture; on the south the highest peak of i the Alleglianies, the “Pinnacles,” Roc ky Knob, Slaty, Gray Beard, Bear Wallow, Sugar Loaf, and a hundred others appeared in the picture in every imaginable hue, and measuring and filling every descriptive height. From this point may oe seen on the east, and immediately under it, the rise of the Toe River, and just beyond the beauti ful Catawba; on the north Caney River; on the west Ivy and Laurel; on the south, the limpid Swannanoa, whose waters help to swell the mighty Missis sippi. We made the ascent from Mount Hor, by a pressing walk, in just forty .minutes. After feasting our eyes to in j PENFIELD, GA. MARCH G, 1852. toxication, we made our way buck, | and ascended to the Potato Top. In making the trip up tlie Swaunanoa, this mountain stands squire across in front of the Black, und entirely hides itfrorn sight, and is so called by its highest point resembling a bunch of Irish pota to tops; the Black derives its name from the everlasting black appearance it presents by being covered with bal sam both winter and summer. From the Potato Top a most picturesque view is presented, taking in the eastern southern and western view, including the Catawba, Too River, Swunnanoa and Hornony valleys. Marion, Mor ganton, and Burnsville can be seen from the Black. On the Potato Top one may stand in a moment in the counties of Burke, McDowell, Bun combe and Yancey, all of which corner there. The contrast between the Black nnd the Craggy, both of which lock arms, is strikingly beautiful. The former ever stands in its dark, precipit ous, gloomy and sombre hue; the latter with its beautifully sloped and curved top, its numerous pointed and peaked rides, some of which are naked and bar. ren, and others wearing a heavy foli age, and the whole presenting quite a lively and animated appearance, though of a bronzed and gayish hue. We took a long, lingering look all round, and commenced the descent, and at 9 o’clock were seated at the Lodge to a repast for which we had an unusual relish. At 10 we commenced the de scent, and at 12 reached Mr. Stepp’s, and partook of a most sumptuous dinner at a table graced by a handsome, sprightly lass, daughter of our host. — At half-past six we were pleasantly seated at our own table, fatigued, but delighted with our two day’s journey. —Ashville Messenger. Hunting in South Africa- We copy the following interesting sketch from a book lately published by the Harpers, entitled “Five Years of a Hunter’s Life in the Far Interior of South Africa,” by R. G. Cumming : “On the 14ih, 1 dispatched Hendric to bring on tne wagons, which come up in the afternoon. Night set in warm, caltn, and still with a good moonlight. Elephants, sea-cows, and panthers kept up a continued music above and below us, along the river, until I feel asleep. “On the 15th I felt very ill, but in the afternoon I went down to the river, where l shot two sea-cows. In the eve ning, feeling worse, I bled myself, but strong fever was on me all night. “Next morning I marched, halting at sun down on the Mokojay, a gravel ly bedded periodical river, where ele phants occasionally drank. “On the 18th, at dawn of day, I took leave of Molly eon and Captain of Ba inangwato, as they would not follow me further. We then, inspanned, and held down tho Limpopo. I regretted to ob serve that the spoor of elephants did not seem to increase in the same rations 1 had allowed myself to imagine. We were in an extremely remote and seclu ded corner of the world, quite uninhab ited, yet the elephants, though frequent ing it were decidedly scarce. I felt extremely weak and nervous from the lever, and the quantity of blood which 1 had lost, insomuch that I started at my own shadow, and several times sprang to one side when the leaves rus tled in the bushes. I walked along the bank of the river with my gun loaded with small shot, intending to shoot a partridge for my breakfast. Presently 1 came upon the fresh dung of bull ele phants, and at the same moment mv people at the wagons sa'.v two old bull elephants within two hundred yards of them; and the wind being favorable, they walked unsuspiciously. After a very short chase I succeeded in killing : both. j j “My fever still continuing on me, I and the natives having deserted, I de termined upon turning my face home ward. Accordingly, on the 21st, 1 or dered rny men to inspari and retrace their spoor. A troop of lions had kill ed some game within a few hundred yards of us, and had been roaring very loudly all the morning; these gave us a parting salute as we were inspanning. Their voices sounded to me ominous, perhaps from the nervous state of my health. I thought they said, ‘Yes, you do well to retrace your rash steps; you i have just come far enough.’ I must acknowledge that 1 felt a little anxious as to the safety of proceeding further on several accounts. First, the natives had spoken of Moselekatze, now resi dent not very fur in advance, as one who would most unquestionably mur den me, and seize all my property.— They also told me that 1 should lose all my cattle by the fly called ‘Tsetse;’ and I had also reason to believe the country in advance not very healthy for man. “My followers received my orders to turn homeward with sincere gratifica- i tion; we tracked till sundown, halting ‘ on the march for a sick ox, which wo | eventually left behind a prey to the li- i ons, and slept on the Mokejay, where i the Bamangfwato-tpen had left me. “On the 29th, we arrived at a small village of Bakalabari. These natives told mo that elephants were abundant on the opposite side of the river. I Ac cordingly resolve to halt there and hunt, and drew my wagons up on the river’s bank, within thirty yards of the water, and about one hundred yards from the native village. Having outspanned, we at once set about making for the cattle a kraal of the worst description of thorn-trees. Os this I had now be come very particular, since my severe loss by lions on the first of this month, and my cattle were, at night, secured by a strong kraal, which inclosed my two wagons, the horses being made fast to a trektow stretched between the hind wheels of the wagons. I had yet, how ever, a fearful lessson to learn as to the nature and character of the lion, of which I had at one time entertained so little fear, and on this night a horrible tragedy was to be. acted in my little lonely camp of so very awful and ap palling a nature as to make the blood curdle in our veins. I worked till near sun down at one side of the kraal with Hendric, my first wagon-driver; I cut ting down the trees with my axe, and he dragging them to the kraal. When the kraal for the cattle was finished, l turned, my attention to making a pot of barley-broth, and lighted a fire between the wagons and the water, close on the river’s bank, under a dense grove of shady trees, making no sort of kraal around our sitting-place for the evening. “The Hottentots, without any reason, made their fire about fifty yards from mine; they according to their usual custom being satisfied with the shelter of a large dense bush. The evening passed away cheerfully. Soon after it was dark we heard elephants breaking the trees in the forest across the river, and once or twice I strode away into the darkness some distance from the fireside, to stand and listen to them. I little, at that moment, dreamed of the imminent peril to which I was exposing my life, nor thought that a blood-thirs ty man-eater lion was crouching near, and only watching his opportunity to spring into the kraal, and consign one of us to a most horrible death. About throe hours after the sun went down 1 called to my men to come and take their coffee and supper, which was ready for them at my fire; and after supper three of them returned before their comrades to their own fireside, and lay down; these were John Stofo lus, Hendric and Ruyter. In a few minntes an ox came out by the cate of the kraal, and walked round the back of it. Hendric got up and drove him in again, and then went back to his fire side and lay down. Hendric and Ruy. ter lay on one side of the fire under one blanket, and John Stofolus lav on the other. At this moment l was sitting, taking some barley-broth; our fire was very small, and the night was pitch dark and windy. Owing to our prox imity to the native village, the wood was very scarce, the Bakalahari having burned it all in their fires. “Suddenly, the appalling and mur derous voice of an angry, blood-thirsty lion, burst upon my ear within a few yards of us, followed by the shrieking of the Hottentots. Again and again the murderous roar of attack was repeated. We heard John and Ruyter shriek ‘The lion ! the lion !’ Stili, for a few moments, we thought he was but cha sing one of the dogs round the kraal; but the next instant, John Stofolus rushed into the midst of ns almost speechless with fear and terror, his eyes bursting from their sockets, and shriek ed out, ‘The lion ! the lion ! He has got Hendric; he dragged him away from the fire beside me. 1 struck him with the burning brands upon his head, but he would not let his hold. Hen dric is dead! Oil God! Hendric is dead ! Let us take fire and seek him! The rest of my people rushed about shrieking and yelling as if they were mad. I was at once angry with them for their folly, and told them that if they did not stand still and keep quiet, the lion would have another of us; and that very likely there was a troop of them. I ordered the dogs, which were nearly all fast, to be made loose and the fire to he increased as far as could be. I then shouted Hendric’s name, but all was still. I told my men that Hendric was dead, and that a regiment of soldiers could not now help him, and hunting my dogs forward, I had everything brought within the cattle kraal, when we lighted our fire, and closed the en trance as well as we could. “My terrified people sat round the fire with guns in theii hands till the day broke, still fancying that every moment the lion would return and spring again into the midst of us. When the dogs j were first let go, the stupid brutes, as; dogs often prove when most required, | instead of going at the lion, rushed fiercely on one another, and fought des perately for some minutes. After this, they got his wind, and going at him, dis closed to us his position; they kept up a continual harking until the day dawn ed the lion occasionally springing after them, and driving them in upon the kraal. The horrible monster lay all night within forty yards of us, consum ing the wretched man whom he had chosen for his prey, lie had dragged him into a little hollow at the back of the thick bush, beside which the lire was kindled, and there he remained till the day dawned, careless of our proxim ity • “It appeared that when the unfortu nately Hendric rose to drive in the ox, the had watched him to his fireside, and he had scarcely lain down when the brute sprang upon him and Ruyter (for both lay under one blanket,) with his appalling, murderous roar, and roaring as ho 1 ay, grappled him with his fear ful claws, and kept biting him on the breast and shoulder, all the while feel ing for his neck; having got hold of which, he at once dragged him away backward round the bush into the dense shade. “As the lion lay upon the unfortu nate man, ho faintly cried, ‘Help me, help nie, God! Oh, men, help me!’— After which, the fearful beast got a hold of his neck, and then all was still, except that his comrades heard the bones of his neck cracking between the teeth of the lion. John Stofolus had lain with his back to the lire, on the op posite side, and on hearing the lion he sprang up, and seizing a large flaming brand, he had belabored him on the head with the burning wood; but the brute did not take any notice of him. The Bushman had a narrow escape; he was not altogether scathless, the lion having inflicted two gashes in iiis scat with his claws. “The next morning, just as the day began to dawn we heard tho lion drag ging something up the river side under cover of the bank. We drove the cat tle ot the kraal, and then proceeded to inspect the scene of the night’s awful tragedy. In the hollow, where the li on had lain consuming his prey, we found one leg of the unfortunate Hen dric, bitten otf below the knee, the shoe still on his foot; the grass and bushes were all stained with his blood, and frag ments of his pea-coat lay around. Boor Hendric! 1 knew the fragments of that old coat, and had often marked them hanging in tho dense covers whero the elephant had churged after my unfor tunate after-rider. Hendric was by far the best man 1 had about my wagons, of a most cheerful disposition, a first rate wagon-driver, fearless in the field, ever active, willing, and obliging; his loss to us all was very serious. I felt confounded and utterly sick in my heart: I could not remain at the wagons, so 1 resolved to go after elephants to divert my mind. I had that morning heard them breaking the trees on the opposite side of the river. 1 accordingly told the natives of the village of my inten tions, and having ordered my people to devote the day to fortifying tho kraal, started with Piet and Ruyter as my af ter-riders. It was a very cold day.— We crossed the river, and at once took up the fresh spoor oi a troop or bull ele phants. These bulls unfortunately joined a troop of cows, and when we came on them the dogs attacked the cows, und the bulls were otf in a mo ment, before we could oven see them. One remarkably fine old cow charged the dogs. 1 hunted this cow, and fin ished her with two shots from the sad dle. Being anxious to return to my people before night, 1 did not attempt to follow the troop. My followers were not a little gratified to see me returning for terror had taken hold of their minds, and they expected that tho lion would return, und emboldened by the success of the preceding night, would prove still more daring in his attack. The lion would most certainly have return- j ed, but fate had otherwise ordained.— My health had been better in the last three days; my fever was leaving me, but I was, of course, slill very weak.— It would slill be two hours before the sun would set, und feeling refreshed by a little rest, arid able for further work, 1 ordered the steeds to be saddled and went in search of the lion. “I took John and Cary as after-riders, armed, and a party of the natives fol-1 lowed up the spoor, and led the dogs, j The lion bad dragged the remains of poor Hendric along a native foot-path that led up the river side. We found i fragments of bis coat all along the spoor } and at last, the mangled coat itself.— | About six hundred yards from our camp, a dry river’s course joined the Limpopo. At this spot was much j shade, cover, and heaps of dry reeds! and trees, deposited by the Limpopo in some great flood. Tho lion bad left j tho foot-path and entered this secluded; spot. lat once felt convinced that we wete upon him, and ordered the na tives to make loose ti e dogs. These j walked suspiciously forward on the snoor, und next minute began to spring j about, barking angrily, with all their j hair bristling on their backs; a crash upon tho dry reeds immediately fol-j lowed —it was the lion bounding away.; “Several of the dogs were extremely afraid of him, and kept rushing contin-! i ually backward and springing aloft to obtain a view. I now pressed forward und urged them on; old Argyll and Bles took up his spoor iu gallant style, and led on the other dogs. Then com menced a short hut lively and glorious chase, whose conclusion was the only small satisfaction that I could obtain to answer for the horrors of the preceding evening. The lion held tho river’s bank for a short distance, and took away through some wait-a-bit thorn cover, the best he could find, but nevertheless open. Here, in two minutes, the dogs were up with him, and he turned und stood at bay. As 1 approached, he stood, his horrid head right to me, with open jaws growling fiercely, his tail wa ving from side to side. ‘•On beholding him my blood boiled with rage. 1 wished that l could take him altvo and toiture him, and setting my teeth, 1 dashed my steed forward within thirty yards of him, and shouted, ‘Your time is up old fellow.’ 1 halted my horse, and placing my rifle to my shoulder, waited for a broadside. This the next moment ho exposed, when I ; sent a bullet through Ins shoulder, and droopped him on the spot. He rose, however, again, when 1 iTfiished him with a second in the breast. The Ba kalaliari now came up in wonder and delight. I ordered John to cut oil’his head and forepaws, and bring them to the wagons, and mounting my horse, gallopped home, having been absent about fifteen minutes. When the Ba kaluhai women heard that tho man-eat er \va9 dead, they all commenced dan cing about with joy, calling mo their father. Mr. Editor: —Altar meditating sen r ously upon the evils arising from a liab . it which is so common in many neigh -3 borhoods—viz: neighbor speaking evil 1 of neighbor; I have concluded (for . the first time in my life) to make an 3 humble otrering to your extensive col . . umns, hoping that if admitted into them, 3 tnein, it meet the eyes of several in my s community, us well as others, who are . in the habit of speaking more evil than r good about their neighbors; thereby t accumulating a great deal of uuneces , sary misery, and causing the loss of so ; many golden and precious opportuni . ties for mutual improvement of the r mind, both in general and religious knowledge. j O Life is short! Should vre wasta it t so foolishly then as to spend the few j golden moments we have in the compa ny of a friend, in columniating, or cvea : speaking of the positive faults of anoth [ er neighbor, and in whose company too, l we appear particular friendly ( la it ) not downright hypocrasy { Is it all . consistent with propriety * la it scrip - l tural ‘{ Is it at all agreeable !o any . person possessed of refined feelings'/ is , it at all condusive of happiness in any , degree, to any persons, save those alone . who have ‘itching ears 1 ’ and are ready . to join in and catch at, and draw out ; every thing of the sort? Is it then a . genuine trait ofpoliteness to be making others uneasy, by having tiieir cars . grated by the recital of tho faults of : their neighbors, or perchance somo ac quaintance who is not a neighbor/ I tell you nay, such a habit is not consis tent with common sense or reason. It is not scriptural, from tho fact that they urge us to do good and not evil all out lives; we are to shun the very appear ance of evil. It is not suliiciont to shun that which wo arc assured is evil, but if there be tho least appearanco of evil, we are to shun it, tr bo caught its many a dreadful snare. It is plain to every rational and reflecting mind, that any custom indulged and persisted in, will increase, and as gradually ami as surely disavow us of the powers of eve ry resistance against said evil l ‘Evil communications corrupt good morals.’ The malady of backbiting, if listened to, is certainly contagious; for seo an individual begining by degrees to talk about another in an evil manner, and nine times out often you hear or sec the second speaker give some token of encouragement to the first, for the sake of courtesy, or rather for the j want of proper courage and forethought. Show me a young lady who is in ihe j habit of speaking evil of almost every | one with whom she is acquainted, and | I will show you one who lias not many ; admirers, and is likely to live and dm lan “Old maid.” Show rriC a young | man who is given to this uncharitable 1 practice, and you young ladies may set it down, that he will never make an ! agreeable companion. Show me a | school teacher, a lawyer, a doctor, a me : chariic, or I don’t care what, and I will point you to a set of men who, if the y are habitual evil-speakers, will soon decline in business. 1 ben I’pray you look and see wha, a vast amount of happiness even in : this life, which that old serpent, the j devil, is constantly cheating us out of. How many happy and useful visits j might we have from our friends and’ i neighbors, were the subjects of the ; light kind, upon which we converse. ;O, extravagance of time ! How swiftly NO. 10