The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1836-1851, January 29, 1850, Image 1
THE CAMDEN JOURNAL.
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VOL.11. CAMDEN, SOUTH CAROLINA, JANUARY 29. 1850. NUMBER S
?WH?PP?1 BMJMI M n j|
Poclitrtl Department.
F?r the Camden Journal.
Messrs. Editors:?Having seen published in
your paper the Dreain of Helen, " from the poem
of Festus," I have presumed so much as to offer
41 tho Song of Helen," which far excels, and for
beauty and depth of sentiment and feeling, cannot
be surpassed. In the perusal of 44 Festus," one of
the first productions of the age, it has very forcibly
struck me that the reader, in perusing that mighty
and luminous work, has before him Shakespeare'
Milton, and Byron combined. The work of Festus
will rank equal, if not superior, to the above anthors.
in the estimation of . iur humble subscriber,
SoL'JN.
Like an island in a river,
Art thou, my love, to me,
And I journey by thee ever,
With a gentle crstasie ;
I arise to fall before ihcc,
I c?"me to kiss thy feet?
To adore thee, and adore thee,
Mine only one, my sweet.
And thy love hath power upon me
Like a dream upon a brain ;
For the loveliness which won me,
With the love, too, doth remain ;
And my life it beautifieth,
Though love be but a shade
Known of ere it dieth,
By the darkness it hath made.
From the Philadelphia Saturday (?i>?ri?r.
THE MINSTREL TO HIS LYRE.
Once more, irty Lyre, thy 6lurnb'ring strings
I wake with trembling hand ;
Though nought but sad notes front thee now,
Thy master can command.
If to this heart thou still would'st cling.
In this benighted hour,
Come, faithful friend ! and round me fling,
Thy soft and soothing power.
Thou must not breathe of joy and hope,
That office now is o'er;
Thy duty is but with the past,
Of thee I ask no more.
Yes, thou ehalt tell of other days,
Whose scenes will ne'er return ;
Still may'st thou bid sweet incense rise,
Front memory's storied urn,
. u. . . .. ? ,
Jtiid time roll back its mystic now,
Return the lost, the loved ;
Soft accents kind, and kindling smiles,
And friendship, faithful proved ;
And I will bless thee, though my heart
Should bleed at every pore.
When thou hast ceased thy mournful task,
Each fond illusion o'er. J. A. R.
Richmond, Va.
?1)0 01io.
A Rsauttitl Thought.?"Out of heaven
and the Bible, ihere is nothing so pure as that
Jore which makes us forget ourselves and live
unto others. The last time Eve wandered
through Eden's liowers of celestial amaranth,
the angels, betokening her departure, gave her
many flowers, whieh she twined in her hair,
nnd wore on her nerk all, save one?a love
blossom?whieh she pressed to her breast, and
the approving smile of all the angels quickened
its fainting leaves into, and it took root in her
heart; and so. evermore, the children of Eve
are inclined to love."?[Prom a volume entitled
" A Place in the Memory," published by Miss
Kroyft, (a blind girl.)
A LtnKL.?The Persians have a saying tha"
'ten measures of talk wore sent down upon I he
Earih and the women took nine,'
There are 3004 known languages now used
in the world Of these, 937 are Asiatic, 507
European. 270 African, and 1024 American
languages and dialects.
Slavery among the Oregon Indians.?
A correspondent of the Tribune, writing from
Fort Nisqually, Oregon, respecting the Oregon
Indians, makes the following important an'
nntinnnmonl
"You will probably lie surprised thai slavery
so generally prevails among these Indians.?
This system exists a oong all the trihes in eve.
ry portion of Oregon. I have been among the
Indians as a traveller, or upon business in most
sections of this territory, and my personal ob
serration confirms the statement which I haw
made."
"Hallo, sir! put out your cigar?don't you
see that notice, ' .\o Smoking Allowed.'"?
" Well, what of that ??I ain't smoking aloud
?I am doing it as still as a man can."
Extreme Modesty.?The Pittsburg Satur
day Visiter te'ls a story of two trim Indies who
entered a complaint against a neighbor for hathing
in a stream five hundred yards from their
door, and when asked how they could recognize
him at that distance, replied, "Oh, we used a
apy.glass!" #
A Jockey Jocyeyed.?A Quaker having
sold a fine-looking, but blind horse, to a jockey,
asked the purchaser:
" Well, my friend, dost thou see any fault in
him ?"
" None, whatever," was the reply.
" Neither will he ever see any in thee," said
honest Broadbrim.
Never give a boy a shilling to hold your shadow
while you climb a tree and look into the
middlo of next week?it is money thrown
away.
Beautiful Metaphor.?The comparison
of the journey of life to a transit across a de.
serf, is very felicitously expressed in the follow,
ing lines from Charles Wesley :
Here in the body pent,
Absent from lleavon [ roam;
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home."
PERFECTLY/AMI LIAR. I
The Cincinnati Chronicle is responsible for
the following "yarn
In the vicinity of Main street, in this city, is
a merchant for whom we entertain the highest
respect. He is favorably known by nearly all
the citizens, as an honest, intelligent Christian
man, and has been such since his boyhood.
Not a stain rests upon his character, which
makes the following incident the more amusing.
A few days since while standing at his store
a very pleasant looking gentleman passing up
the street, stopped before his door and looked
in. Our friend, the merchant, thinking ho had
seen the stranger somewhere, and supposing hp
desired to make some purchases, opened a conversation
with?
"Good morning, sir. Would you like to look
at our stork ?"
"No, 1 am obliged to you, sir. I am surpris
el to see such immense quantities of goods in |
Cincinnati and such splendid stores."
' The trade of our city is much increased of
late years, sir," said the merchant, adding "I
think I have. 6een you before, have I not?"
"I presume not," the stranger replied, "I
have not been in Cincinnati* for many years."
"It is very strange?I feel sure I have met
you?where r'o you reside ?"
"In Kcntii'ky sir."
The merchan* now supposed he had met the
Iventuckinn during his travels on business in
that State?and, offering his hand, remarked in
his usual happy manner?
l.V...,, fnmilinr to me VOI1
* "UI mvt 11* V i J - ^
must be some o/ri acquaintance?mv name is
. Now, sir, your name, if you please V'
The Kentuckian smiled and answered, "I
ihink we liave never met before, yet 1 may be
mistaken, as my vocation calls a very largo
number of persons around me. My name is
Craig; I am keeper of the Penitentiary at Frankfort
!"
The merchant turned to us who happened to
be 8 a iding near, and begged us not to tell the
incident. Hut it is out now. Wc could not
keep it.
Jtlteallancous Department.
ihtn \w \y matt111 i:s
Our readers must have noticed h?f;,r,. |
now, thai the tone of remark and Ibcling
with whu'k cland(vSljilc marriages are coinT.Cuied
upon in conversation, ami by the
press generally, is one of levity and unrlis
guiscd satisfaction. Ii is commonly regar.
(led as one of the best jokes if a foolish daughter
of fifteen or sixteen years of age succeeds
in outwitting father and mother, and runs ofi
with a comparitive stranger. Editorial wit
is taxed to its extremes! capability to render
tiliculous the distress and anxiety of the
bereaved father, as lie follows his wandering
child. And if fortune favors t lie runaways,
and the knot is tied before the parent can
iutcipose a warning word, the general joy is
rapturou-.?It is a triumph of young lovo j
... n,. elni'ii iinvvmMnthizmrr. tvrnnrral hutise- !
W.V.. .... ... -
hold authority. which calls f<?r the merriest ,
celebration. Or if the idea sliotald occur to !
any, that all is not quite right in such cava- j
her treat ncut of parents, it is soon op??l??uis- <1!
fur by the sage observation that voting folks
will be young folks.
Take it all in all, a stranger to our manners
and customs would be likely to infer
that parental inle and counsel implied something
very dreadful and oppressive, and that
the young ladies of (lie land when held in a
home bondage of the most unjust and un
generous character.
At t ic*risk of being regarded as very oldfashioned,
we shall nevertheless acknowledged
that we can rarely see any thing of
the nature of a good joke in a clandestine or
runaway wedding. Wc confess to a feeling 1
of sadness and evil foreboding, when we near i
that a girl, who is a mere child, has made up
hcrmmd to repudiate the love an I anxious
care of the mother who bore her, and of the
father who has cherished her as his life; that
she has turned her face away from the altar
of home, from the nest of her infancy, and
put herself into the hands of a man whom
her parents dare not trust.
\Ve need not remark that marriage is the
great event in woman's life, Iroin which all
other events take their coloring. Ifshecir
here, her whole lile is one of unavailing penant
c' of scalding tears, of sharp and blighting
sorrow. She cannot go back and undo Iter |
fault; she dare not look to the future, for it is '
all desolate to her. These things being so. I
it follows that a young lady should yield her |
hand and heart, only after the most prudent ;
and cautious forethought. She should avail
herself of the wisdom and experience of
those who love her, and above all of her parents,
and after all she will feel that the
chances are sufficiently nuinerons that she
may still make an unwise choice.
Hut m most clandestine marriages, the girl
isa child, ignorant of the world; without ex.
pcricnce; deficient in judgment; her mind
pmbibly filled with taise notions aim lauciful
day-dreams, dciivcd from novelists and
romances. She meets with a young man
at a party, or a ball, or no matter wheie. who
seems interested in her, and she is flattered
by his apparent admiration. He conducts
her home, calls on her the next day, repeats
his call, and they arc thenceforth in love, if
they were not at the first glance, Tliev
have become the Romeo and Juliet of what
is a play in the outset, but a tradgedy in its
close.
The incompetence of the young girl to estimate
the character of her lover is perfectly
apparent to every one but herself.
Ilepropses marriage to her, and is probably
accepted without reference to the parents.
He entreats that an early day may he named
for (heir union. If there is any doubt of her
parents concurrence, this is wanted, too; and
if parental objections or difficulties threaten
to interpose, an elopement is the next question
agitated and agreed to. They are consoled
by the thought that there is something ;
romantic in n runaway match, an*) that such j
things are rather praised I ha" condemned; ;
and, besides, after a I is over, it will not he I
difficult to make tip with father and mother. j
A reflecting woman would see that the j
young man who sues for love without the !
sanction of her parents, givesprimafucic '
evidence that something is wrong about him;!
something that shuns the light and fears in- !
vcstigation. A woman in her right mind j
would say, 'My parents I know and confide !
in; they love mc and my happiness; their:
lot in life is bound tip with mine, so that if I '
err they will be wretched. They shall be J
I my counsellors. 1 will not trust my own
too partial eye to investigate my lover's char- j
actor, and 1 will refer it to them." Such 1
would ho any prudent girl's course, and such i
a couisc would seldom, if ever, end in an '
elopement.
Hut such is not the cnursp of that large j
class of young girls who figure in runaway j
matches. And the consequence is. that such \
girls fall an easy prey to the thousand of I
genteel loafers, worthless, portionless, and
heartless vagrants, who contrive to keep up
a respectable exterior by preying upon society.
While we write these lines, we think of the
multitudes of once voune. thoughtless trirls
who have fallen into such hands, and found,
after a few months ofaiftrricd life, their ter
rible mistake. They see when it is too late;
they realize when there is no remedy for it,
thai they have plunged into an abyss of misery,
instead of stepping into a heaven of earthly
bliss, and now casting themselves once
more upon the parental bosom, exclaim in a
concert of agony, "Would to (lod we bad
never wandered hence!''? N. Y. Organ.
DEATH UPON THE OCEAN.
EY 1). C. EMIT LETT.
Upon a recent voyage from Liverpool to 1
New York. I became inllmafelv nennainled
? .. J ,
with a young man, a felio'w passenger w ho [
was going on a visit to America. When !
liist saw him, I was struck with his appear- j
mice ilo was of slender make, with a glo- j
rious forehead, and eyes of delicate blue, j
His hair was light auburn in its color, and I
his countenance expressed a nobility and
frankness (hat is rarely found. We were
introduced, and from some cause became
quite intimate. I soon found we possessed j
mutual friends in England, lie had come!
from one ol the best families of the upper j
stratum of what is called the middle class of j
English society. Ii is not strange that we j
became intimate, for I loved his native land,1
and he loved nunc. Upon the pleasant
moonlight nights, we sat upon the quarter !
deck, conversing ai>out iho land, tlie homes, (
and (lie friends we were leaving?of Lmg- j
land's pools and statesmen ; ??r, shilling 1 ho j
scenes, of our own New Knglawl, or the !
Iiroad expansive West with its everlasting !
prairies. Ollcn the unwelcome sounds of!
the midnight bells broke upon us, oic we J
bad finished our conversation, so pleasantly !
bad passed the evening away, iie was not
long in gaining the friendship of a!! fellow
cabin passengers. j
After wtWiail been out n few days. I mis- |
scd linn one morning from his accustomed I
place at the breakfast table. I did not I
sec him on the deck during the morning, nor >
at the dinner table. When I visited his j
stale room tomv surprise I found him lying |
on his bcrih. quite ill, with the surgeon in
attendance. lie had experienced, in the
night, a severe attack from a dangerous dis- j
ease, and was already very much prostrated.!
He was glad to see me, and seemed to be in
good spirits. Tears canto into his eyes;
when I took his hand, and ho wished a follow
passenger who was a clergyman, l<> |
read a portion of the Script tiro to hint, it |
was the lirsl lime 1 had seen linn lo-w spirit- {
ed, and it was the last. The clergyman j
came and read a s >!umn psalm to him, and i
Inn cmliir>cc li'fl liirii even !m W3S iovitl! I
?co " * ~ J hearted.
I
The next morning I was shocked to hear |
the surgeon say he could not live forty.eight i
hours, I went to him?alas! the surgeon!
was right. The change that had come over !
Iiiin, in a single night, was miraculous. His i
fair brow was covered with a damp chill as ;
death, and his nuhurn hair was clotted with I
moisture. Hut his pure blue eyes had not j
altered ; llicy had the same affectionate, half i
sad. hah joyous expression that they had al- \
ways wore. The Hash had disappeared
from his checks, for his anguish had been
great during the night. I took his hand in
- i.... i \_ ..i ..... ; 1. r..?..
mine. Will llitrt'l! ii'Ji >|/v;iiiv, i>u n.m wi iiuuuiing
the emotion of my heart. lie said, with
a singularly cahn and clear voice:
" I am going to die, my friend, but I am
not afraid." A pressure was gone from my
spirits at once, lie went 0111 have a
few things that 1 wish to give to my friends
-a few triilcs-and, if you will call the captain,
I will tell you to which I wish them
given." I called him, and he continued calmly
; "My gold watch I wish my sister Km. j
ma to have, and my silver one, give that, to :
Georgy, my little brother Georgv, and my ,
rifle, let it he kept for him until he is old
enough to use it. Give to .Meggy the ling |
on my little finger. To my mother"?his
voice faltered when he came to her, and
tears crept down his pallid check. "Ah.;
she was a good mother! (Jive her hack the
Bible that she gave me, and tell her that her
boy did not fear to die!" All else he be-1
queaiticd to his father to dispose of a? lie
lilted. Tiie captain loft the room, and he j
said, looking earnestly up in'o my face: j
"Write to my mother, when \ ain dead, and |
tell her that every bodv was kind to me. and j
that I had every attention,"?and tell Iter i
[how tender and thoughtful was this wish
of his to save his mother's heart from pain!]
that I did not fear death. Tell Meggy that
I Jove her in death; you should see her, she
has such soft, meek eyes, and Iter hair curls
so beautifully about her fair forehead. Poor
Meggy! And?and?there is one of whom
I have not spoken. Mary : I was en- j
gaged to her?give her my host ring, anil ,
tell her that I hope to meet, her in heaven." j
JJccoining exhausted, I left htm, for a short j
time. When 1 canu; back, he said, "I wish (
once more to sec the ocean, in whose depths I
my grave will soon be mane; let mc gaze
on it onee more!" Alas, he was too weak,!
too weak to be raised upon deck; poor fellow!
And then ho wished a bucket of sea
water brought to him. His eves were suf
fused with a smile when he saw it. lie put
his hand in it and bathed his forehead, saving,
I could hardly tell whether sadly fir
joyously: "Soon shall my body be in the
dark blue sea." There was something magnificent
in that self baptism of his?that fearlessness
was so triumphant over death.
All the day the wind had been increasing
in strength, and at night it blew a hurricane.
Towards midnight the sea became frightful
mc- r.n;^l,;no ....
in^ n a? v. c* uuin.ini; w? vi us < 111 n 11 jwi
striking our side S"iiii(ling like heavy thundor.
Many of tiie passengers weie frightened,
nearly all They were up, and, when
the captain came down into the cabin, they
gathered about him, with agxious eyes and
earnest questions. I was up all night with
the dying one?some ol the time holding
in his birth; a part of the time he lay in mv
arms. He was perfectly calm and his fear
lessncss was a rebuke to those who were pale
with fright from the storm. At day-break
it bad reached its height; at day-light tli"
poor young man said: 4,I thank you all for
yenr kindness to me?farewell forever!" and i
died.
The storm went suddenly down, and the !
next morning there was n perfect calm and i
the canvas was idly flapping in the the air.
t he stin shone calmly upon the beautiful
sea?the air was balmly, like that of the
South; but we were all sad, for we were to
see what few of us had ever seen before?a
sea burial. 1 will not describe the ceremony,
for abler pons than mine have done so.
1 will say nothing of the little band that sadly
stood at the gangway, and saw the corpse
stretched upon the death plank: of the horrid
plunge o| the body into the mysterious
ocean; inditing. All that gentle day, lilile
parties were clustered together, talking ab"Ul
the poor young man. All of us were j
I
sad.
When the evening come on, and the full |
IliO'Ml bll"li?: 11 j)'ill w.-s, wil11 iumi'jus j;uiu>, |
wont out upon the quarter-dock, and mused i
lung upon the ymno man, his English home.
ami tlmso who dwelt there, liis mother
perhaps, was praving at that moment, a safe j
si j'Uirn in the New World, arid a happy, O !!
how happy! return; hut tho sea was his mother
now, poor woman ! 11 is dear Meggy,
"with her hair curling beautifully about her
brow," lay, at that moment, perhaps kissing
him in her dreams. Dream on Meggy ! loo
soon will you wake to the stern agonies of
life! Then i thought of the time when cv- j
cry post would lie eagerly watched by those ;
at home, lor they expected a letter from him. J
And a letter docs come, with a foreign post-1
mark, but in a strange hand. The lather
grows pale, as he looks at it: the mother,
watching his countenance, anxiously asks '
why me is pale. He hands the iettcr to her. I
nnil sl?n i-mvims nn lirr lace and shudders. I
T/tfij (h/rc vol (ijxi) it. The brother does. J
and reads?the letter t lint 1 wrote to them'
Shivered, iu a moment, arc nil their beau- {
liiul hopes, and tliev weep in anguish; and
Meggy ! she is nut among the flowers playing,
they have not told her! the brother goes
to her and says: "Come to me, Meggy;" the
girl runs to him and burst into tears; he
cannot tell her what he wishes, lie grows I
stronger, and tells her that her brother is j
dead, and buried in the blue ocean, and will
never, never come back!" She asks sad- j
ly, "will he never, never come back?" No- ;
vor Meggy;" and the beautiful child cries as
if its heart would break; but the dark ocean i
ivill ii,,t iic i-rios nor its mothers, but
hugs I it 11) as a trophy in its embrace.
?
A Kind Fiuhnp.? There is something!
peculiarly gratifying in the thontiht, th t
there is one who loves us?who makes our
interest his own. When the hand of sickness
falls upon us, it is sweet to think there j
is a heart that beats in unison with our on n;
a heart that feels every pang, that vibrates j
in our bosom. Willi such a friend by our
side, we can lack no earthly good, lie will
supply our wants, even to the taking of the !
last nennv from h<s pocket. No ninlit is
weary to him, as lie sits by om pillow? !
smooths our brow; administers to our wants,
and notices every movement of our Irame,
Have you such a friend ? Cherish him. >Sav
not a word, breathe not a suggestion, that j
will pain his heart. He feels an interest in
yon too deep Ibr language to express, and
when by a look, or a m ?lion, you betray an
indilliTtmco to his welfare, or manifest no
gratitude for his favors, you send a thrill of
pain through his heart. We can take a ;
harsh word,or a slight, from one with whom
our spirits have no sympathy, but these
pierce like daggers when they come from i
j the friend whose interest to promote, we
! would sacrifice our time, our wealth, and our
life even.?Port. Bui.
Evn-SEitvANT3.?]>oirt \v;tte!i your master.
hoy. lie will not. go out at present,
lhill away steady and do your joh. Let us
tell you what we have never faded to notice:
an eye-servant never prospers, never turns
out t'? be anything worth naming. If he
does not runaway from his master, he might
asweil, for ho is so slow and so lazy that
his work docs not amount to much. Hear
us; if you wish to become a good citizen and
a smart man, look out for your master's in.
t crest.?Hi.
THE BRAVE MAN.
B Y D. C. C O I, K S V.' OKTI! Y.
There is nothing which a truly brave and
persevering tnan may not accomplish. Heat
and cold, mountains and seas, storm ard
sunshine, are alike to him, when he is bent
upon his object, lie pushes ahead?never
tiring or fanning?until his proud design is
achieved. - Whether it be riches or honors,
he permits no obstacle to impeJehis progress.
The histories of all distinguished
men. front Alexander to Napoleon, show
that it was energy and perseverance, that
made them distinguished above their fellow
men. And you, young man, if determined
in your course, whatever end you have in
view, shall he respected and honored. Never
permit your energies to slumber, but be
ever active in whatever field you choose
to labor. To lag?to stop to doubt?to
hang your head it: fear, will prove disastrous
to your best interests.
'To move along in doubt and fear.
And tremble ni tbe shades of eveu?
What is it, but a tomb to real,
And stealing to it, turn from Heaven?"
The reason why so many turn out miserable
tooli? without ambition, 'ife.or wealth,
even-? is. their laclv of roiirnrro nr..'1 thrvir fonr
of the world, What has an honest man, or
a man of virtue ami integrity, to fear? All
are but shadows that look dark and forbidding
before you?and ihcsc vanish before
the light of Truth and generous ambition.
Let nothing stay your progress when you
arc in the right path? nothing but the strong
arm of death Then you will accomplish
your bright expectations, while
''iMiud ws fiy,
And l.opc beam beauteous from afar?
A sea of glory fdl Uic skv;
And wisdom beam in every star."
Nothing is Lost.?The drop that mingles
with the flood?the sand dropped on the
sea-shore?the word you have spoken?will
. i I 1*1. i ill i a _
noi do iosi. i^acn win nave its inmicnce
and lie foil till time shall ho no more. Have
you over thought of the effect that might be J
produced by a single word; Drop it pleasantly
among a group, and it will make a
dozen happy,to return to their home to produce
the same cllbct on a hundred pen haps.
A bad word may arouse the indignation of a
whole neighborhood; it may spread like wild,
fire to produce disastrous cllbcts. As no
word is lost, be careful how you speak ;
speak right, speak kindly. The influence
you may exert by a life of kindness; by
w >rds dropped aiming the young and the
old?is incalculable. It will not cease when
your bodies lie in the grave, but will bo fell,
wider and stilL wider as years pass awav.
Who, limn, will not exert himself for the
welfaie of millions ?
SixniNO.?We find the fallowing very
sensible observations, relative to singing
among the young, m an Eastern paper:
All children can learn to sing if they commence
in season. I do not say that all will
have the same sweet voice of the nightingale;
for some have naturally sweet, mild
and soft voices when they talk; while others
speak in loud, string ami masculine tones.
The same is true in regard to singing.
In Germany every child is taught to use
its voice while young. In their schools all
* 01? n /wTiilnr rtVOroiBA f)C
JU1I1 III uo a IV jiuiu. I.AWIV.IWV, MU u?wj
attend to t he study of geography, and in
their churches the singing is not confined to
a choir, who sit apart from the others, perhaps
in a corner of the house, but there is a
vast tide of incense <ioing forth to (Jod from
every heart, w hich has utterance to this
language from the soul.
Children, sing ! yes, sing with your whole
hearts! David sang before the Lord, and
it is meet that you should do the same; and
always, when angiy feelings rise in your
breast, curb and check them by singing
sweet and cheerful songs.
T.vkr his Hand? Take i he hand of thy
brother, lie has just stepped from the gutter.
The course of sin he has so long pursued,
makes him feel alone and friendless.
ISucourage his endeavors to rise. He may
yet become, a useful man Take his hand,
and with tears of gladness welcome his return
to virtue A smile will he of inestimable
value to him. A frown would send liiin
back to misery, perhaps to rise no more forever.
Then encourage and bless him.
Speak kindly and pleasantly, and he will be
saved.?I'/itl. Sittunhn/ Courier,
The ice is frozen to such a thickness on
the North River at the city ofjfmlson, that
teams with loads, cross to Athens, on the
opposite si'lool the liver. nlsnt?::t every hour
of the day.
"Why is a viol* nt rajou >:. rni !>! .? pleasant
weather? Because it's us nu-stun/i.