|it Inkgeitkitt $ounral-#l)otci) to fafiiics, literate, $tfc| gflirrals, |?,nculte, gcitittt anb |rt.
BY JAMES A. HOYT.
ANDERSON COURT HOUSE, S. C, THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 3, 1861.
VOLUME 1.?NUMBER 20.
THE ANDERSON INTELLIGENCER,
IS -ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY, AT
ONE DOLLAR A YEAR, IN ADVANCE.
* ???" If delayed six mouths, $1.50; and $2.00
at the cud of the year.
JAMES A.. HOYT,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
Advertisements inserted at moderate rates; liberal
deductions mado to those who will advertise by the
year.
?????????n?ma^???
Meet Lizzie at Six.
That was all the dispatch contained.
Four little words; yet what excitement
they caused in the household at Maple
Cottage; the quiet, so sober household,
whose members, at the moment of its re?
ception, were 011 the point of yoing to rest
ibr the night.
" Meet Lizzie at b\x." Was our darling
indeed so near us ? Two years and three
months* had passed since our eyes had
been -gladdened, with licr girlish beauty,
since her voice had mingled with the bird
music that floated all the long*summer
days among the maples. Two years and
three months sho had been buried among
books, in a faraway city, bowing her
sunny curls over algebra and geometry,
grammar and philosophy, astronomy and
botany, French and Latin; patieutly at
first, because 'her parents desired it; af?
terwards cheerfully,to please the teachers
she had learned *to love, and at last, zeal?
ously, from pure thirst for the treasures
these studies unlocked to her. But it was
over now?these toilsome years?and she
trason Jicr way to us once more?our Liz?
zie?our pet and pride?we should meet
her at six."
She had left B- in the morning;
had journeyed without stopping all day ;
this was guessed at once; and at eight in
the evening, finding a hasty opportunity,
she had telegraphed to us the words above.
At six the eastern train arrived at our
station; Lizzie was to ride all night, for
the sake of reaching home thus early. It
was like her; impulsive, warm-hearted
child that she was!
How little we slept that night. What
slight sounds around us; how early we
were all astir?even the bab}' and the
white-haired graxjjffather; '-Meet Lizzie,
eh !" he said; "aye, indeed Avill we!" And
th? old mlu's voice caught a youthful tone,
and bis crutches an clastic movement, as
he hobbled about the house giving orders,
as if all the responsibility rested upon him
tobe sure.
There was Hannah, too, bewildering the
mother about breakfast. "Did Lizzie like
coffee or cocoa best?" And would she
make, biscuits or waffles ? And the moth?
er smiling all the time nodded her head to
everything, and went hurrying about with
the grid-iron in one hand and th? egg-boil?
er in?another, coaxing Faunj- to curl the
baby's hair, and looking at the clock every
live minutes. But Fanny, wit'a mysteri?
ous apronfuls of something, was fighting
up stairs and down, leaving a book herc.a 1
flower there, a daguerreotype oi the ta?
ble, or a rosy-cheeked fall appb in the
window?something for Lizzie to see and
smile at. Only the father seemet disturb?
ed. "We noticed, to be sure, the dimples
in his cheeks, which Lizzie alwiys said
she made when she was a bab?, looked
deeper when he smiled, and that bis voice
was a little less stead}-, he told Tiomas to
bring the horses; but he did not ike to be
considered a demonstrative man, so we
only looked significantly at each o.her and
said nothing. Still waters are sonetimes
very deep.
At last the carriage came aromd and
we got in ; two of us, besides tin lather,
who was to drive. There was riora for
more; but it was quite out of herine, the
mother said, to go on a dashing dive be?
fore breakfast; so we left heron tie piaz?
za, with a pickle-dish in her haad, and
wiping her eyes with her apron.
It was half a mile to the depot,knd the
sun not quite risen when we startej. How
balmy and pure the air was that s>ft Sep?
tember morning. We thought, rgotists
as we arc, in our happiness, that [nature
sympathised with us. It sccmei' as if
there never had been so fair a 6ihrisin?r
before, and as if half the glory of the
morning would have been wasfrd, had
Lizzie not been coming home.
The cars had not arrived, wbn we
stopped at the station, but we hea-d the
whistle of the locomotive, not v*y dis?
tant ; and those few, sweet, waiting mo?
ments?what a world of blessed aiticipa
tion they held. Tiie sun was risin;?ah!
Lizzie! Lizzie!
At last the train came up?stoppet We
looked at the windows; only a row If sad
faces! Lizzie must have sat on the ither
aide. A few passengers came out,so?mn
faced and silent. We pressed forwari?so
did.those who were going out of the rain.
The conductor appeared, and wavedevc
rybody back, then motioned to somi one
|ix the car. The two men came outjand
?O??i?i????I ? ? _-?_
slowly descended the steps, bearing a life- j
less body?a woman; her features covered
by a veil. They bore it into the saloon,
and laid it revently upon the sofa. Still
the conductor waved the crowd back?
except our party ! He knew us, and
turned away his face as we approach?
ed.
Then we knew how it was; all except
the father; he could not believe! Firmly
he raised the veil from the dead face. Oh,
God ! All merciful! It is thus we meet
thee, Lizzie, darling, best loved, idol the
of our heart!
In a brief time we learned the story?
learned how the angel of the Lord had
"met Lizzie" before us.in the still twilight
of that autumn morning, and after one
pang, terrible weki:ow,but brief, had waf?
ted her gentle spirit to those who waited
for her in the home of angels.
At the very last stopping place, Lizzie
had left the car to procure some food for
a little child, who had fretted all night in
the arms of a wearied mother.- The train
stopped a moment; it was dusk, and none
of the officials had seen her leave it. She
returned hastily to find it moving, made a
misstep, fell forward?and the rest?it is
a common tale, such as newspapers chron?
icle every week. The beautiful head with
its sunny curls was?what we saw at the
station house ?
We shed no tears at first, though it
seemed as if a drop could save our hearts
from bursting?it would not come. Not
even when one who, we afterwards learn?
ed, was on his way to a wedding party,
and who. journeying with Lizzie but a few
hours, had yet learned to know her good
as beautiful, came up and laid, in fearful
silence, a boquet of pure white rose-buds
upon her bosom. We buried them with
her?the stranger's kindly offering of
sympathy and respect.
Blessed be God for tears! They came
at last?came when we saw the mother!
That scene is too sacred for detail. But
the old grandfather's mind wandered
when he heard the tidings, and all day he
6at in his armchair pn,thc porch. listening
to the whistle of the train, as his dull ear
faintly distinguished it. ((Ireckon Lizzie's
aboard that; has anybody gone to meet
the gal ?" When told again, he would
seem to comprehend for a few moments,
and once he called the creeping baby to
him, and patting its white shoulders,said,
?'Grandsir's old. and lame, and blind; he
could not go to the station, but grandsir's
going to see Lizzie first after all. Yes.
yes?grandsir's not so far from his little
gal as the rest of them, but we're all fol?
lowing fast!"
Blessed lost one! How prone wo are
to forget this. How hard for our faith to
,!put back the dead love from her arms,"
and looking upward, to the glory that en
eompasscth them forever. We mourn thee
always, Lizzie; our idolatrous hearts
yield but slowly to thy Father's chasten?
ing yet in it we feel the earnest of joy to
come, we know the clinging earth-gar?
ments cannot hold us back from thee for?
ever; we know that we shall yet "meet
thee at six," at the glorious sunrise of the
resurrection morning.
Energy.?So great is the effect of mere
energy as the predominating quality in a
character, that indifferent plans pressed
with resolute vigor often reach a trium?
phant success; while for superior designs,
if carried out in a common spirit, fall al?
together or far short of the expectations
formed of them. In common life, though
determined pushing often succeeds, it
sometimes fails from the distatc it causes.
In great affairs, where it is not favor, but
apprehension or contest that induces suc?
cess, the energy which threatens or forces
mostly gets the best of the business. The
present time furnishes a remarkable in?
stance of this; for, except the battles of
the Italian campaigns, the successes of
Louis Napoleon have been chiefly gained
by a determination to attain them. A
still more remarkable instance is that of
Garibaldi, whose wonderful energy has
just effected results unparalleled in histo?
ry; for though revolutions as startling
may have taken place, the means have'
been obvious, and success less entirely
owing to a single man. Energy indeed
is not the only quality of this wonderful
hero ; for all his qualities are wonderful,
especially his simple magnanimity and
cl ildlike faith. But it is energy, and the
gift of infusing energy into others, that
most conduces to Garibaldi's success.
[Frasefs Magazine.
Xox Bad.?A blooming young widow,
living in one of the Southern States, which
is strongly in favor of secessior.i, sends
word, through a lady friend, to a spry
widower of this city, but who is not in
very robust health at present, that "she
is for Union." To which he replied :
"And so am I, but due regard must be
had to the Constitution."
John Howard Paine.
[The following incident in the life of
this brilliant and eccentric author, we
find between the leaves of our "Scrap
Boole." The article originally appeared
in the Charleston News, several years
ago. No lover of that dear old song.
"Home, Sweet Home," can fail to be in?
terested in the simple story.?Ed.]
A notice of John Howard Paine brings
to mind another adventure in which the
song "Home, sweet Home" was touch
ingly brought to bear upon the feelings
of the kindly author. I met the poet for
the first time in 180G, in the little town
of Athens, Ga., at which he had stopped
a few day 6 on his way to explore the
??frontier" counties of north-western Geor?
gia. I found him a genial, pleasant and
intelligent travelled irentleman. who had
seen much of the world, strange men and
strange things, but as yet had met noth?
ing which surprised him so much as the
extreme apathy of the Southern people
on all subjects connected with arts and
literature.
Some months afterwards I met him
amidst the glorious scenes of our moun?
tain regions. He was enchanted with
them, and revelled in the bracing air and
the purple sunlight of the Indian summer;
and though the Alps, the Appenines, the
CatskiU and the White mountains were
familiar to him, he acknowledged that
such sober certainty of waking bliss he
never felt before, as when reclining on the
brow of the "ocean view" he listened to
the thundering of Tallulah, rising over
the moaning of the pine trees at his feet,
and through the mist of a Havana scgar,
overlooked the more misty distance of
the middle country of Georgia and Caro?
lina. Before him the pyramidal form of
the Currahec rose like Egvpts lesser
mounds from the plain isolated and alone;
behind him swelled up the nearer top of
the Hickory Nut Mountain, whilst about
and around the short leaf pine and the
numberless flowers of the fall waved
their modest beauties. Our conversation
turned on the sights and scenes of other
lands, but whilst I admitted their beau?
ties, I exclaimed "yet after all
" I5c it never so bumble there's no place like
home."
He smiled and replied :
"The authorship of the Jerusalem de?
livered, saved Tasso from the hands of
the bandits of the Appenincs. My hnm
bl< little song, popular only because it
touches a little nerve that vibrates in
every heart, got me also out of prison a
short time since," and then he gave me a
most amusing account of his adventures
in the Cherokee country.
It will be recollected that about that
time the notorious "Georgia Guard" was
in existence. A band of mixed nature,
and under the leadership of a hitter par?
tisan, it became offensive u> one part of
the community, whilst, the other held it
as necessary for the safety of the squat?
ters of the disputed territory. Now it
happened, as usual, that the question be?
tween the Cherokces and Georgians had
been seized by a portion of the Northern
people as a lit occasion to meddle with
Southern affairsj and the intervention of
the.Supreme Court, of the military arm
of the Government had been invoked
against Georgia. The report ran, that
emissaries of.various characters were at
work among the Indians, and the Guard
had particular orders to take up all sus?
picious persons and hold them till farther
orders from Millcdgcvillo. Now just at
this time, the reported beauties of the
Anny Collola, and the splendors of Nick
ajack. induced Mr. Paine to risk the rough
roads, the feather beds, the dough bis?
cuits, the three-grains-to-the-gallon coffee,
and the cindered bacon of the mountains,
in pursuit of these wonders. A broad
cloth coat, a civilized hat, a neat port?
manteau, but above all, a travelling wri?
ting case, a pocket comb and a tooth
brush, marked our traveller as a "suspi?
cious character," so after due examina?
tion before the "Bishop," he was commit?
ted to a log house, there to abide under
the surveillance of a sentinel till the Gov?
ernor's orders could be received in the
due course of mail. Night and day the
sentinel paced his weary round, and the
long rifle was visible on his shoulder
"from morn to dewy eve," so the captive,
however unwilling to stay, was forced to
fret and waste away behind the closed
shutters of the rough paling door. But
what the most rational argument, the
much boasted rights of an American citi?
zen duly insisted on, could not effect, was
"got for a song." The sentinel, who had
been from his young wife and corn field a
whole week, began to feel home-sick, and
suddenly on his military round, there
burst from him the heartfelt, ; .
" .Midst pleasure and palaces though tve should
roam," &c, &c.
The captive listened, his memory flew
back to the days ol youth, when himself
a wanderer in a foreign land his heart
gave utterance to the well known words,
he felt a community of humanity with the
captors, and he said :
"My. friend, do you admire that song?''
"Don't I, stranger," was the reply.
"Next to Old Hundred and Hail Colum?
bia its the prettiest song that ever was
writ."
"Well, do you think the man who wrote
that song could be a spy and a traitor ?"
"Dcrn'd if I do; I'd lief believe that
Gen. Washington didn't write the Dccla
tion of Independence."
"Well, I wrote it."
"You did ? What yer name ?"
"John Howard Paine."
"Jei'iisalem!" said the soldier, "that's
the very name I It's printed on the song.
Hollo, captain, come here; you've made
a cussed mistake. This feller aint a
clock pedler nor a missionary. Its the
man as writ 'Home, Sweet Home.' I say,
let's ask him to licker, and then let him
out. I'll stand security he'll not run
away."
"And, indeed," continued the narrator,
"the}' did let me out, gave me the best of
treatment, and I saw enough of the real
character of the right people, and heard
enough of the true state of the affair to
prevent nry regretting my capture and
imprisonment by the Georgia Guard."
-4?
How Some People Marry.
A young man meets a pretty face in
the ball-room, falls in love with it. courts
it, marries it, goes to house-keeping with
it. and boasts of having a home and a wife
to grace it. The chances are nine to one
he has neither. Her pretty face gets to
be an old story, or becomes faded, or
freckled, or fretted, and as the face was
all he wanted, 'all he paid attention to.
and all he sat up with, all he bargained
for, all he swore to love, honor ami pro?
tect, he gets sick of his trade, knows a
a duzen faces which he likes better, gives
up staying at home of evenings, consoles
himself with segars, oysters, and politics,
and looks upon his home as a very indif?
ferent boarding-house. A family of chil?
dren grow up about him ! biit^eUh^r4?*
nor Iiis " face " know any thing about
training them, so they come up helter
skelter; made toys of when babies, dolls
when boys and girls, drudges when young
men and women ; and so passes year af?
ter year, and not one quiet, happy, home?
ly hour is known throughout the entire
household.
Another young man becomes enamored
of a "fortune." He waits upon it to parr
ties, dances the polka with it. exchanges
billet dmtx with it, pops the question to it.
gets "yes" from it, takes it to the par?
son's, weds it, calls it " wife," carries it
home, sets up an establishment with it;
introduces it to his friends, and says
(poor fellow!) that he too is married, and
has got a home. It's false. He is not
married, and has no home; and he soon
finds it out. lie is in the wrong box, hut
it is too late to get out of it. Jle might
as well hope to escape from Iiis collin.
Friends congratulate him. and he has to
grin and hear it. They praise the house,
the furniture, the cradle, the new Bible,
the new baby, and then bid the "fortune"
and he who husbands it good morning!
As if he had known a good morning Mince
he and that gilded fortune were falsely
declared to be one !
Take another case. A young lady is
smitten with a pair of whiskers. Curled
hair never before had such charms. She
sets her cap for them; they take. The
delighted whiskers make an oiler, proffer?
ing themselves both in exchange for one
heart. The dear miss is overcome with
magnanimity, closes the bargain, carries
home the prize, shows it to pa and ma.
calls herself engaged to it. thinks there
never was such a pair of whiskers before,
and in a few weeks they arc married.
Married ! yes, the world calls it so, and
we will. What is the result ? A short
honeymoon, and then they unluckily dis?
cover that they are as unlike as chalk
and cheese, and not to be made one,
though all the priests in Christendom pro?
nounce it so.
-o
Mrs. Partington says, " When she
was a gal she used to go to parties, and
always had a beau to extort her home.
But now," says she, " the gals undergo
all sorts of declivities ; the task of extort?
ing them home, revolves on their dear
selves." The old lady drew down her
specs, and thanked her 6tars that she had
lived in other da}_s, when men could de?
preciate the worth of the female sex.
-?,
JBST The postmaster at Halifax, N. C.
has tendered his resignation to the Post?
master General, to take effect on the 4th
of March next, unless North Carolina
I secedes before that day.
Seidel) |jocfrj.
A Now Year's "Wish.
Stern Time lias turned another pa^c
In his record-book of human age_
That chronicle so dark,
Where every act upon life's stage?
Each footstep of our pilgrimage?
He left some warning mark.
Not, from Life's tree another leaf,
Bright with joy's hue, or dark with grief,
Has fluttered to the ground,
Where in a moment, sad and brief,
'Twas gathered to his mighty sheaf
Iu the Past's garner bound.
The year just gone has spent its sands,
Another, now, before thee stands
Unread, unknown and vast;
This too, will glide from youth's strong hands
Away tujoiu the misty bands
Which gather in the past.
And, as it passes may it bo
From every care and sorrow free!
May ii be brighter far
Than ti c pic sunset on the sea,
Than dreamy moonlight on the lea,
Or light of vesper star!
Iu its bright west may Hope's fair bow
In promise shed a tranquil glow
To 'luniine Life's swift tide ;
And in its calm and happy flow
.May sorrow's melt like falling snow
Upou the ocean wide.
And, as this opening year drifts past,
May its last days profusely cast
Life's blessings over thee.
As when rieh Autumn-leaves fall fast
The brightest liuger to the last,
Thus may this New Year be!
-
The Fate of "an Infatuated Man.
Some ten years since a wealth}- mer?
chant of Boston retired to thcclassic regi?
on of the White mountains, to enjoy, dur?
ing his declining years, the quiet he so
much nceded.aftcr having lived two thirds
of a century among the busy marts of a
crowded city, and during which period he
had seldom permitted himself to go on a
pleasure excursion beyond the boulevards
of the Athens of America. But having
acquired, not a competence merely, but a
fortune that would entitle him to a posi
i tion among millionaires, he hoped to find
that happiness iu retit,etneixt--wHT^u*TTe~
Jiad-va'mly sought amid the noisy rounds
of business and the monotony of mercan?
tile life.
I N?r, judging from the surface, were his
hopes ill-grounded. Having passed his six?
ty tilth yearjie was apparently out of the
reach of those youthful follies which so
frequently ruin younger men not protect?
ed by active employment. His health
was much better than that of most men
of his age; his conduct had always been
exemplary, and he was not required to
spend the latter half of his life in atoning
for the frailties his youth. Iiis wife, to
whom he had been united for more than
forty years, still lived to cheer him, and
his children were all happily settled around
him. The spot he had chosen for his re?
tirement was peculiarly adapted to gratify
every legitimate desire. The classic scene?
ry, the pellucid lakes and rivers, the noble
forests, combined to gratify the senses.
Iiis home was decorated with everything
beautiful and pleasing that a cultivated
fancy could suggest. His grounds and
gardens were such as novelists delight to
describe and artists to paint; in a word,
all things around him. both in nature and
art, were all that any rational mind could
desire.
But in this paradise, the serpent enter?
ed, lie who had successfully resisted all
the temptations of the city, who had hap?
pily overcome all the follies of youth, fell
like a shattered citadel, when the danger
was apparently past.
It is unnecessary to relate the manner
in which the temptress wound herself in
the old man's heart, after sixty-eight win?
ters had passed over him; but, so she did,
and he consented to leave home, friends,
relatives, wife, and fly, with the greater
part of his fortune, to the West. Arriving
in Cincinnati, he and his paramour, a
beautiful girl of nineteen, took rooms in a
retired quarter of tl e city, where they
livcd, unknown to the world, for about
two years, when the old man, who had
been rendered miserable by his new life,
was made still more wretched by the in?
telligence of the death of his deserted,
heart-broken wife. His sorrow, the com?
punctions of conscience, the promptings
of his better nature, however, were of no
avail to disinthrall him fromjthc subtile coil
of the serpent vice that had firmly fixed
his worldly doom.
His paramour had, up to this time, ap?
parently used every exertion to render
him. happy. She was playing for an en?
ormous stake?the old man's fortune?and
she hoped by kindness to induce him to
settle the greater portion of it upon her,
to the exclusion of his children. !Now>
that his wife was no more, she determined,
at once, to place herself in a position to
command that which ehe bad hoped to
win by caresses. She therefore represent?
ed to him that as all obstacles to their le?
gal union had been removed, their trans?
gression might be blotted out by a legal
marriage,which was consummated accord?
ing1}*
But the ambitious bride still failed to
induce her husband to settle his estate up*
on her; and hoping that she might, by
coercion, compel him to do so.
At this juncture she applied for a di?
vorce, having been told by a legal adviser
that she could by that proceeding at once
come in possession of one third of the es-,
t?te, without waiting for the old man's
death; and as that portion was sufficient
to render her affluent, she unhesitatingly
made the application. The court, howev?
er, on learning the facts, granted her noth?
ing but a life annuity of $300 and the bill
of separation, thereby apparently defiaaV
ing her aspirations fox-cver. But she -was
not thus to be thwarted, but immediately
offered to be reconciled to her former
husband, and once more united to him.
She was however, too late. His reason
had left him, and he was taken to the lu?
natic asylum, near Cincinnati, where ho
remained until last week, when she made
application to the probate court for a writ
of habeas corpus, and, in accordance with
it, he was brought out, with a view of try?
ing the question of his sanity.
When taken into court, he dcclaredhis
willingness to be'remarried to bis faithless
spouse, and even manifested some an xiety
on the subject; but the aberations of his
mind were too apparent .to admit of his
discharge, and he was remanded to Long
view, where he still remains. What course
our heroine will next pursue, we have no
means of judging; but the probability is,
that she will not relinquish her exertions
while any hope of success, however dis?
tant, remains.
-?
Will Making.?The practice of cut?
ting off with a shilling was introduced to
refute the presumption of forgetfulness
or unconsciousness?to show that the tes?
tator fully remembered and meant to dis?
inherit the sufferer. Lady Mary Wort
ley Montague cut off her scapegrace of a
-srm*^vtni'~~?r guinea:?WfaeTf" ?h"erida"fc -
threatened to cut eff his eldest born with
a shilling, the quiet retort was, "Could'nt
you give it to me at once, if you happen
to have such a thing about you?" Haz
litt mentions a habitual liar, who,consist?
ent to the last, employed the few remain?
ing days he had to live after boing con?
demned by the doctors, in making'a will,
by which he bequeathed large estates in
different parts of England, money in the
funds, rich jewels, rings, and'all kinds of
valuables, to his old friends sind acquain?
tances, who, not knowing [howffir the
force of nature could go, were not for
some time convinced that all this fairy
wealth had sever an existence anywhere
but in the idle coinage of his brain, whoso
whims and projects were no more. A
wealthy nobleman hit upon a still more
culpable device for securing posthumous
ignominy. lie gave one lady of rank a
legacy " by way of compensation for the
injury he feared he had done her fair
fame," a largo sum to the daughter of an?
other, a married womau, " from a strong .
conviction that he was the father;" and
so on through half a dozen more items of
the sort. each, leveled at the reputation of
some one from whom he had suffered a
repulse; the whole being nullified (with?
out being erased) by a codicil. A widow,
occupying a large house in a fashionable
quarter of London, sent for a wealthy
solicitor to make her will, by which she
disposed of between fifty and sixty thou?
sand pounds. He proposed soon after,
was accepted, and found himself the hap?
py husband of a penniless adventuress.
-4?
Ykry Touching.?Here is a touching
description of a moonlight scene : After
whirling some time in the elastic mazes
of a waltz, Cornelia and myself stepped
out unobserved, on the balcony, to enjoy
a few of thoso moments so precious to
lovers. It was a glorious night?the air
was cool and refreshing. As I gazed on
the beautiful being by my side, I thonght
I never saw her look so lovely; the full
moon cast its rays over the whole person,,
giving her a most angelte appearance, im?
parting to her curls a still more golden
hue. One of her soft hands rested in mine,
and ever and anon she met my ardent
gaze with one of her pure, confiding look*',
Suddenly a flush came over her soft
features, her full red lips trembled with
suppressed emotion, a tear drop rested on
her long, drooping lashes, the muscles
around her faultless mouth became con?
vulsed, she gasped for breath, and spatch
in" her hand from the warm pressure of
my own she turned turned suddenly away,
and?sneezed.
.-:-+-?
HAPrY New Year! to all my friends I
and vive la Rqmblique.
Thb lit*