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toy v *•} ff **% '■ \ _ • t * B** llt'l fNWw ®* ’ ■ * s IDjtNL+W yH'l fm "V ■’-» "t J -4k *- i I VOL. 111. Advertising Kates. One square, first insertion $ 75 Each subsequent insertion 50 One square three months 5 00 O o square six months 10 00 One square twelve months 15 00 Quarter column twelve months... 30 00 Half colpmu six months 40 00 Half column twelve months...... 60 00 Quo column twelve months...... 100 00 Ten lines or less considered a square. All fractions of squares are counted as full square*, NEWSPAPER DECTSI©NS. 1. Any persojj who take* * paper regu lar! v from the post office—whether directed to his name or another’s, or whether he has subscribed or not—is responsible for the payment. 2 If a person orders his p«p»r discontin ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub lisher may continue to sertd it until payment is made, and collect the whole amount, whether the paper Is taken from the office or D it. 3. The courts have decided that refusing to take newspapers and periodicals from the postoffice, or removing and leaving them un called for, is pnma facie evidence of inten tional fraud. TOWN DIRECTORY. Mayor —Thomas O. Barnett. Commissioners —W. W. I'urnipseed, J. S. Wyatt, K G. Harris, E. R. James. Clerk —K. G. Harris. Treasurer —W. S. Shell. Marshals —S. A. Beldinc, Marshal. J. \V . Johnson,Deputy. JUDICIARY. A. M. Speer, - Judge. V. D. Dismukk, - - Solicitor General. Butts—Second Mondays in March and September. Henry—Tbirr, Mondays in April and Oc tober. Monroe—Fourth Mondays in February, and August. Newton—Third Mondays in March and September. Pike—Second Mondays in April and Octo ber. Rockdale —Monday after fourth Mondays in March and September Spalding—First Mondays in February and August. Ojhou— First Mondays in May aod No vember. CHURCH DIRECTORY. M etrodist Episcopal Church, (South,) Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Fasior. Fourth Sabbath in eneh month. Sunday-school 3 r. m. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening. Mutxodist Protkstant Chukch . First Sabbath month. Sunday-school 9 A. X. Christian Church, Elder W. S. Fears, Pastor. Second Sabbath in each month. Baptist Church, Rev. Oxford, Pas tor. Third Sabbath in each month. CIVIC SOCIETIES. •PiKK Grove Lodge, No. 177, F. A. M Stated communications, tourth Saturday *• each month. DOCTORS. DR. J. C. TURNIPSEED will-ttend to all calls day or night. Offi- e 1 res i~ dence, Hampton, Ga. ■|\R. W. H. PEEBLES ««»*» all dis- J * eases, and will attep* calls day and night. Office at 'the Store, Broad Street, llampt ,n > DR. N. I'. BAR*^T tenders his profes sional eervie* “> the citizens of Henl 7 and adjoining and will answer calls day or night Treats all diseases, of what, ever nature Office at Nipper’s Drug Store, Hampton Ga. Night calls can be made at my res : ’ encc * °PP 0S > te Berea church, api 26 JP PONDER, Dentist, has located in Hampton, Ga.,and invites the pnhlie to pdl at his room, upstairs in the Bivins House, where he will be found at all hours Warrants all work for twelve months. LAWYERS. JNO. G. COLD WELL, Attorney at Law, Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice ir the counties composing the Coweta and Flint River Circuits. Prompt attention given to commercial and olher collections. TC- NOLAN Attorney at Law, Mc • Donough, Georgia. Will practice in the counties composing the Flint Circuit; the Supreme Court o.f Georgia, and the United States District Court. WM.T. DIOKEN, Attorney at Law. Lo cust Grove, Georgia, (Henry county.) Will practice in tire connrips composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, the Supreme Court of Georgia, aod the United States District Court. apr27-ly GEO. M NOLAN. Attorney aw. McDonough, Ga (Office in Court ) Will practice in Henry and adjoining conn ties, and in the Supreme and District Courts of Georgia. Prompt attention giv°n to col lections. mcb23-6m JF. WALL. Attorney at Law. //amp ton. Ga Will practice in the counties "composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and the Supreme ami District Courts of Georgia Prompt attention given to collections. ocs IJIDWARD J. REAGAN. Attorney at J law. Office on Broad Street, opposite the Railroad depot. Hampton, Georgia. Special attention given to commercial and other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy. BF. McCOLLUM, Attorney and Coon • sellor at Law, Hampton, Ga. Will practice in Henry, Clavtoo, Fa vet te, Coweta. Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Butts Supe rior Courts, and in the Supreme and United States Coorts. Collecting claims a specialty. Office uo stairs in Schaefer's warehouse. TEN YEARS AFTER. Ten years ago, when she wrs ten, 1 used to tea«e and scold her ; 1 liked her, and she loved me then, A boy, some five years’ older. I liked her; she would fetch mv book, Bring lunch to stream or thicket ; Would oil my gun, or bait my hook, And field for hours at cricket. She’d mend my cap, or find my whip ; Ah 1 but boy?) hour s*on£!_ f her rather few than “Gyp,” And far less than my pony. She loved me then, tho’ heaven knows why— Small wonder had she hated; Her scores of dolls she’s had to cry, That 1 decapitated 1 tore tier frocks, I pulled her hair, Galled red the sheen upon it ; Out fishing, I would even dare Catch tadpoles in her bonnet. Well, now I expiate my crime ; The Nemesis of fables Came after years ; to-day. Old Time On me bus turned the tables. Pm twenty-five ; she’s twenty, now— Dark-eyed, pink-cheeked and bonnv ; The curls are golden ’round her brow ; She smiles and calls me Johnny. Of yore I used her Christian mime, But now, through fate or malice. When she is by, my lips can’t Irame Five letters to make Alice. I, who could joke with her and tease, * Stand silent uow before her; Dumb, through the very wish to please— A speechless, shy udorer. Or, il she turns to me to speak, I’m dazzled by her graces; The hot blood rushes io my cheek ; I babble common-places. She’s kind and cool, ah ! heaven knows bow I wish she blushed and faltered; She likes me, and I love her, now ; Dear, dear I how things have altered ! The Seuliiueutal aide of Farm I-ife. Poets bare sung the delights of the farm er’s life in strains so enchanting that one might wonder why nil the world has not for saken every other pursuit and betaken iiwrff to tbe tilling of the soil. Bat the farmer, himself, in the unsized hay field, or plod ding in the clayey turrow at the tail ol his plow, wiD a free holdei’s right sticking to each tool, or beuding, with aching back, be twe'“ 'te corp rows, or breasting tbe winter norm in the petfoimauce of imperative duties, looks at life from a different point of view. To him this life appears as full of toil and care and evil chances as that ol any other toiler; and true it is, the life of tqi ordinary fanner is hard, with little to soften it—too much of work, too liitle.of play. But as true is what the poet sang so long ago : “Thrice happy are the husbaudman if they could but see their blessings for they have independence more than others who, by the 6weat ol the brow, earn their bread, and the pure air of beaven to breathe, and the blessed privilege of daily communion will) nature. It is not easy for tbe farmer to see any beauty in his eDcmips—the meadows full of daisies, with which he is forever fighting, or by which he has been ignominiously con quered ; the encroaching ranks of golden-rod along the borders of his fields, and the brist ling bayonets of these Canadian invaders, the thistles. How few farmers, or other people, for that matter, see in tbeciirabiog blushes of the dawning day, or tbe gorgeous painting of its close, or in the perfect day itself, anything but the foretelling ol fair or foul weather; or notice the ways of any unturned biids or beasts, except that the crows come to poll the cord, the hawks to catch the chickens, tbe foxes to steal tbe lambs and turkeys! However, the farmer does feel a thrill of pleasure when, in the hazy softness of a February or March day, be hears the caw of tbe first carrion-seeking, hungry crow. In April, when the fields begin to show a suspicion of coming green and give forth an odor of spring, and the dingy snow-banks along the fences are daily dwindling, he wel comes tbe carol of the first biue-biid, and is glad to hear tbe robin utter his restless note from the hough of tbe old appfe-tree ; and. when he hears the plaiotive cry of tbegrasg plover, he is sure spr-ng has come, and th°n thinks of the small birds no more till the first blast of returning winter sweeps over tbe bare trees and frozen fields, when, ail at once, be becomes aware that tbe troubadours are gone. He sees that the brave little chickadee remains faithful to bis post. ar.d feels that his cheery note enlivens a little the dreariness of winter, as does the ready piping of the nut-hatch and the voice of the dowry, fuller of life than music, and the dis cordant note of the bine jay, who clad in a nit of summer sky, loudly proclaims his presence. But tbe singers are gODe, and he misses them. HAMPTON, GEORGIA, , MARCH 7, 1879. The Gloaming., 'The gloaming is the hour for quiet retro spection of the hours that are past, for (ear less onlooking to fhose which are to come, and for closer communing with God and one’s soul. The day is flowing into the night tbrongh the golden gate of twilight, just ns fervid youth and fragrant woman hood, the strength of manhood and the leader’s power, are passing through the calm rest of old age into the stillness of death In the gloaming, the aowl seems to see the right 11 v iloe and the true shapes of things more clearly than she did when the son was high, and the eyes were dazzled with its shine and tbe blood fevered with its heat. Then pns skin was strong, and with passion, self will, false aims, false beliefs—and disappointment as the shadow lying behind. If the power was there to create, to resist, to combat, to subdue, so also was the bitter smart and the cruel blow. And there was the inevitable deception of the senses. Then the sunTglt l fell on the stagnant waters of the deadly swamp and tnrned them into lakes of purest gold, which a wise man would spend his time well to seek and his strength to possess. Now in the twilight the false shine has fadpd from the low lying pools, and the dark and deadly mists creep up to mark botli their place and quality! If only he had known the tru’h of things in time ! If only he had not believed that marshlands were living lakes of golden water, which a man would do well to give his life to gain ! In the daytime, clouds obscured the sun, so that the impatient und sore-hearted man said in bis bitterness that the god had tnrned his face from the earth and from him, and that to morrow’s glory would never ri«e. Now in the gloaming’the hope of that mor row has already lessened in anticipation the evil done by the clouds of to-day, and trnst end hope come in the place of sorrow and despair The worst has been {..make room for the better. No more false jamming and no more blinding by the deeeDed 1 and flut tered sense ; no more mi'diverstorfof'hneEgv, and taking for pure and beautiful waters ol life deadly morass and stagnant marsh. The gloaming of life sets a man straight, not only with himself but with things, and gives birn a trner knowledge than be ever had before, fie stands full face to the west and looks into the light, which now he can bear, and which h* do longer finds bewildering or blinding That time of tumult and passion, ol heat and strife, fhtougb which he has passed, how glad he is to leave it all behind him while waiting, watching for the quiet po ce of the night through the teuder soft ness oi the gloaming ! How near and yet how lar seem to him the unfulfilled hopes of the morning, the mistaken endeavor of the noon, the hard labor and fierce struggle of the day? If he had only knowu in time the things which were best for him, how differ ently he would have acted—and now : God’s wilt be done and God pardon all his sins! fie must take things as they stand, trusting in the unlading mercy ; fpr if repentance is good, regret i 6 vain, and gloaming is for peace, not strife. Slowly the.last rays of the sun fade out of the sky, and tbe lingering light as slowly follows. The world lies hashed as a tired sleeper, and tbe moon and tbe stars come out as watchers. as signs of other worlds and other lives. But the old man sitting pale and peaceful i’d the house porch knows now what he no longer sees ; for the gloaming of his life has passed into the deep stillness of something beyond, a« the day has passed into the night, and both lie in the hollow of God’s right hand.— Chamber’s Journal. Men ok Few Words. — ,Some men use words as riflemen use bullets. 'They say but little. The few words go right to the mark. They let you talk, and guide your face aod eyes on and on, till what you say can be answered in a word or two, and then they launch out a sentence, pi.erce tbe matter to tbe quick, and are done. Your conversation falls into their minds as a river in a deep chasm, and is lost from sight in its depth and darkness They will sometimes surprise you with a few words that go to the mark like gunshot, and then they are silent again as if they were reloading. Such men are safe counselors and Irue friends, where they profess to be swch. To them truth is more valuable than gold, while pretension is too gaudy to deceive them. Words without point to them are like titles without merit, only betraying tbe weakness of the blind dupes who are ever used to forward otbet men's schemes. A great writer says : “Some people are born Christians.” But there’s’ no occasion for worrying over tbe matter; they generally outgrow it. There are two kinds of men who tell the truth— one from force of circacnstuoces and the other for a change. Taftlo Etiquette. - -- Bread should be broken, not cut; but if you don’t like bread, “cut” it. In “break ing" bread u-e a curb hit v Do not fill your mouth ton full;- -rather allow some of the food to get into your moustache. Split a biscuit with your fingers, instead of opening it with your knife like an oyster. If the biscuit bo hard, n tnfltl and wedge are a(|ini«sible in tin* best society. fin not pick your teeth at the luhte. Pick them at the dentist's, if he has a good as sortment io pick from. Salt should never be put on the, table cloth, but on the side of yonr plate. If. however, yon want to p : ckle the tablecloth in briny, yon mint put salt on it, of course. A barrel of salt tablecloth would come in plsy should your pork give out during the winter. Do not rattle your knife and fork. A kuife »mt spoon will be found more mn j ical. Eat your soup from the Bide of the spoon —either htside or outside. Do not take game in your fingers. This, however, does not apply to a game of cards I) i not rest your arms on the rabLcloth. Stack yoitr arms in a corner of the room before beginning dinner. When asked what part of the fowl you pref.-r, slswer promptly. If you want the whole of it, don’t hesitate t« sav so. Do not drink with the spoon in your cup; put it in vour pocket. Forgetting it, you will be sd much ahpmi A close regard to this rule has enabled Ben Butler to accumu late a couipeteney. It is bad taste for host and hostess to fiire ish eating liefors tbeir guests. It is better to move theii chairs so as to finish behind them. Never leave the table until all are through, without sufficient excuse. The sudden en trance of a policeman with a warrant for your arrest,-is generally considered sufficient excuse in polite circles. Pay no attention to accidents or blunders on the part of servants. If Budget blows herself up while encouraging the fi r e with kerosene, keep right on eating just as if you had never (kero) sene it. Never help yourself to articles of food with your knife or fork. Use a harpoon or a lasso. When you have finished your meal lay your knife and fork on your plate side by side, with the bandies towards the right, a little south by southwest, bearing northerly when the wind is off the sideboard quarter. —Cmannati Saturday Night. The Desolation of Babtlon. —lt is us ual for travelers to dwell upon the utter desolatem of Babylon, and to paint its site as a strip of desert especially woe-begone and unfertile. Cat tbe elegant, gentlemen who dwell upon this aspect of the place could not have seen it to the middle of April. Tire date groves and gardens along the banks of the Euphrates are then things of beauty in their fietb spring verdure, aud the plaio itself is laid down with crops. Irrigation canals cross it here and there and give trouble to the horseman. No gras a grows upon the mounds, and there are patches ol the level white with nitre, which is to be found here as in other parts of Mesopotamia ; but tbe surface of the soil is, on the whole, green snd pleasant to the eye. 'The glad waters of the river flow on in 'the bright morning sunshine, with palm and mulberry banging ever its banks, drinking in sap and lile. The great city which counted its pop ulation by millions, and filled tbe world with a renown not yet forgotten, has disappeared under tbe dust of twenty centuries, but na ture * as fresh and jocund os when Babylon was still unbuilt. Birds sing overhead in the pleasant spring air; butterflies flatter about in search of flowers ; balmy odors re gale tbe seats* It is difficult under the cir cum-nances to feel as one perhaps ought to feel for the great Capital which once cum bered this ground. Nature does not mourn for it, and it is bard to be sad at the bud ding of sentiment when the bright 6pring hides its grave.— Geary’s Travels. 'The London World tell this bow an annoyed musician revenger) btut-ell: “One of the most eminent pianists in London having suffered much from the irrepressible conversation of drawing-room audiences, devised tbs other day a ineuos ol giving a les-on to the town. He arranged with his violin, his violoncello and tlie rest that tbe music coma to a sudden stop in the midst of the l<>udea' passage ol the piece at a given signal Iron) him It was done. Tbe bawl mg and shouting voices were left in the twinkling ol an eye, bigu nod dry,as it were, upon a shore of sileuee. Joyous, clear aod distinct above them all rose he voice of Lady AVhy Women Murry. Vanity Fan , in a recent issue, says : Th<' qn-’stirm which We fhinsidcrod ln-4 week • Why Men Marry,” is an friteiebtfng Onir) bul it rmt-d be pronnnrte n d interior in Inter est to the qncui,/n “Why Women Many,” in the degree in w' ieh men are fit all rt*R- a ports less interfsting than worrubiV The willingness of wom«ti to n.nrry i& greater and more patent than that of men; and/wit will ndd, that it is a great deal' more wnffWhil That women lva*«, uf irw n eMloquia! ydbruse, •he worst nf it a'l throu !i we entethfiih no doubt, and that the matrimonial state,’a undersfood by experience, hss, as a rale, fewer attractions for them than for men, we also believe to be true. Yet, while there are many men who from choice abstain from marrying, and still more who put off marry ing till the Inst prae’ieaf inbftient, wp douht if there are any women worth mentioning who refuse the married state -from option und deliberation, and not many who post pone marrying till a late period of life front n general repugnance to. having a husband. That women refuse individual men, and sometimes go on refusing man after man, is true enough ; but then their objection is to the man and not to the con-li inn of life th.it man proposes; or. not unfiequmilly, their refus.,l Hii-es from mere slyiltishness, from a feeling that they may do better, nr from a cheeiiuf conviction that there is plenty of time to “think about it ” As u rule, how ever, women who have the chance of marry ing, marry, and they would mirry yet more promptly time they do were it not tint they are frequently held buck from taking a fool ish step by wise parents or friends. How is this apparent paradox to- be explained ? There is less to in-luce a woman to marry than to induce men, yet men besita'e to many and women jump at marriage. Home will answer that man is a rational and wo - man an irrational animal; but over snd above tbe distinction., being too uncompli mentary to be truj, it is one of those plaus ible explanations that explain nothing. Again, it is sometimes affirmed that, in m ir rying, men saerifiee liberty, whereas women, in marrying, acquire it. When men sacri fice what is called their liberty by marrying, they are already tired of their liberty, or that paiticuiar iorin of it which bachelorhood enjoys, and were the point thoroughly ex“ ainmcd, we suspect it would be found that they abandon a form of liberty of which they are weary for another form they have not yet possessed. What a Mule Gan Do. This mule looked like he was a hundred aod thirty-eight years old, and was dead, standing upon his feet. He wag hitched to a pine-bodied spring wagon with a high dashboard. The “team” was standing on tho levee in mute silence, while* the old darkey who“driv” it went aboard the wharf boat. A tramp could make a barrel of money selling pictures of that mule, labelled “Ftttjenee.” His long, flabby ears hung down each side of his head like window awuings with the rods out of them. His face wore a sober look, while out of his month hung a tongue eight inches long. His tail swung down from the rear end of his hurricane roof like m wet rope, while hi« whole body seemed as motionless as death itself. Presently a red headed urchin, with un o'd boot in bis hand, walked.up in ho.nt of him, aod, looking into his face, saw that the mole was asleep. He walked around, climbed up into the wagon, leaned over the dashboard, lifted that mule's tail, und let it come down in time to catch a death giip on that boot leg. 'The mule woke up so quick that he kicked the boy and the dash board twenty feet into the air. fie didn’t stop there. He changed tbe position of bis ears, hauled in bis tongue, planted his fore teet and bis head betwe n his knees, and from his fore shoulders to the tip of his trunk was in lively motion, and he didn’t look like he was more than two years old, tbe way he was kicking that ollfiWngnn body into kindling wood with his heels He had , ii all to himself, and was doing finely, when the old darkey rushed up the hill, got in I Iront of him, grabbed him by each ear. shouted, “ .Vh'oa ! I tell yott. Wat’s de mut | ter wid Jtou? Whoa up!” and, looking around at the crowd, yelled, “Will some o’ ! yer gemmen git dat ar boot leg out while I hold him? kase de waegin’s mine, an’ I jes borrowed de mole.” But no one ventured, and wlieu we left his bed bud almost reached Uie tail-gate, and the old darkey was still yelling “ \V hoa. !” — Courier-Journal. “Love is an eternal transport!” exclaimed un poet. “So is a canal-boat," said a practical old forwarding merchant. Aocordinq to Joseph Cook, Boston bus eight miles of grog shops. No wotwkr ber 1 streets are so crooked. •tVrurtnnl f’ttlfure. .Hi( ' TMtPiHSvCI • The flower />( one civiHzi wehawe seen to he personal culture—and of to if flower every twl* and root and stem is . presion®—every leaf, and gprtn and hurf is beautiful. tint that wHichmnkcs it* grnctdul ■ corolla, thit into which it unfold* asmt# highest and nnmt-perfect development is the spirit of self-negation by which “every t.wir look*not an bis own-things hut also pp <he ithing* of others,” by which “,lhe strong,/>up} ■**' ,h : !i ■ non! hers hardens, l^- ganiftiond in its sfreng'b becoming the supporter of infancy in its and youth in ftsv : gor becoming the ni iin t maned of ofd age in its decrepitude' and decay ’Hiis seffincfjrtlnn lies at the hnsis of all sneiil order, of all constitutional freedom, of ell sound and wholesome admin istration of law; 1* raotH if soil in those intimate relations of mutual interdependence and sympathy which hold man a common weal. It flowers in these, brood philanthropies and noble cbarities'whiyh ate, peculiar to our Christian civilization, i» which the tenderness of human sympathy, the liberality of munificent wealth, and the discoveries and appliances of advanced science, are all brought to bear for the relief of the suffering, the rescue of the perishing, the supply of the needy, 'ha cure of the sick, the restoration of the erring, the healing of alt disorder, and the righting of nil wrong. Let this feature of onr be fully realized, and out of the abundance of the rich the necessities of-the honest poor would be freely supplied ; the arm of the strong would be the sure defense of the weak 4 w .r would cease; famine would bo abated; pestilence would be rQbbod o( half iU bor- , rors. There would be no form of autfir-ing that should not evoke a healthful and no .cry for help that should nod uwakeo a generous response.— Riv. T. D. If'dhcr spoon Our ljt»st Friendships. L“t us bury our dead friendships silently and solemnly. Yes, just as temkrly as we lay away “nnd r the diisies” the cold forms of those whom we had cherished and loved us dearly, when the jewel had gone from the casket to return to us never more We cun be true, we men and women, loyal and loving in every way, so long as the object of our affection is faithful too, but we are seldom magnanimous. When, like David of old, we ore sore wrtnndcd In the “house of our friends” we do not bear it patiently, silently, but 'urn away with heart® filled with bitter ness, and in the first hours of oar sorrow and deep humiliation we vow that we ure done with the world and its deceit and treachery forever. It is no light thing, this death in the hpart. If a friend dies, we know that he shall rise again, hut for a d ad friendship ' there is no resurrection, and some of us afe ' so constituted that we never can again trust ’ so fully, confide an unreservedly, while we journey on in this uncertain word, so full Of* sad disappointments and deceitful promise*, 1 It has been beautifully said that ‘we 1 should make of our changing friendships a • ladder to the angels.” Alas I we fear that • many use them as a descent to the demon* Oh ! the ghoul-like malice that cun prompt one to abuse the confidence of the ; r onee beloved—to use the knowledge of their most sacred affairsjso ns to blight tbeir characters or to blacken their once fair fume! Oh I let us bind this golden rule on our own hearts, and upon the hearts of all our kind# Bury your dead friendships silently, sok emidy. YVe shall all stand some day on the borders of the spirit-land, where broker* friendships will be reunited, where all bitter ness and heart-pangs shall be ever more for gotten Ln the majestic presence of the great Peace- maker, the Sanctifier, the Oonsecrator —Death. YVny Max Need YY’ivbs. —lt is not to sweep the house, make the bed, daru the. socks and cook the meals, that a man chiefly wants a wile. If this is all, when a young man calls to sec a lady, send him into the pantry to taste the bread aod cake she has made, send him to inspect the needle-work and bed-uuking, or put a broom into her hands and scud him to witness its use. Bucli things are important, and the wise young rnau will look after them. But what the true man wants is a wife's companionship, sympathy and love. A man is sometimes overtaken by inislot tunes ; he Tweets failures and deieat*; trials and temptation? beset him ; and be needs some one to stand by him and sympathize. All through life, threugb storm aDd sunshine, through conflict and victory, through adveise acd favoring wind*, man needs a woman's Jove. His heart yearns tor it. The man who is waiting for something to turn up, geuerally finds it when be steps oo * a bariei-hooi . _ no: m. to ti-w. - «as* m