&jrr family ©ink , JESUS.- One theme there is that fill 9 the sotll AVith ever new delight;. One balm that makes the wounded whole, And nerves the faint for fight. One fount whose waters pure and sweet Flow forth in streams of life, One name that saints may still repeat, Its music qucnclieth strife. Oh what can thus transport the sonl And angel-tongues employ ? What medicine make the wounded whole, The mourner full of joy ! What flowing fount will pilgrims meet Across the desert sand ? What healing name can saints repeat All through the stranger land? Ah know ye not the only name Of all-prevailing power ? The gracious Lord whose sovereign claim Is on you every hour? ’Tis Jesus, there is none beside. liy him were all things made; ’Tis Jesus; he who lived and died, By wicked hands betrayed. Yes ! Jesus, God’s beloved Son, Brought peace when all was strife—- Behold him! the Ascended One, The Way, the Truth, the Life! Come unto him, ye weary souls, Ilis blood atoned for sin, His word the pearly gates control, And ye may enter in. GOALS OF FIRE ON THE HEAD. Joe’s small feet clattered vigorously down to the little cave where his boat was hidden. But as he neared the place an exclamation of surprise escaped him, for there were signs of some in truder, and the big ftone before the cave had been rolled away. Hastily drawing forth his treasure, he burst into loud cries of dismay, for there was the beautifuLlittk boat which cousin Herbert had glvchTnm/witirrts gay sails split in a hundred shreds, and a large hole bored in the bottom. Joe stood for a moment motionless with grief and surprise; then, with a face as red as a peony, he burst forth: “ I know who did it—the mean scamp! It was Fritz Brown; and he was mad because I did not ask him to come to the launch. But I’ll pay him for this caper,” said little Joe through his set teeth; and hastily pushing back the ruined boat, he hurried a little farther down the road, and fastening a piece of string across the foot path, a few inches from the ground, he carefully hid himself in the bushes. Presently a step was heard, and Joe eagerly peeped out. How provoking! —instead of Fritz it was,Cousin Herbert, the very hist person-, he cared to see; and hastily unfastening his string, Joe tried to lie very quiet, but it was all in vain, for Cousin Herbert’s sharp eyes caught a curious moving in the bushes, and brushing them right and left, he soon came upon little Joe. “How’s this?” cried he, looking straight into the boy’s blazing face; but Joe answered not a word. “ You’re not ashamed to tell me what yon were doing?” “No, I am not,” said little Joe, sturdily, after a short pause; “ I’ll just tell you the whole story,” and out it came down to the closing threat, “ and I mean to make Fritz smart for it.” “ What do you mean to do?” “ Why, you see, Fritz carries a basket of eggs to market every morning, and I mean to trip him over this string, and smash ’em all.” Now Joe knew well enough that he was not showing the right spirit, and muttered to himself, ‘‘Now for a good scolding.” But to his great surprise, Cousin Herbert said quietly—“ Well, I think Fritz does need some punishment; but this string is an old trick. I can tell you something better than that.” “ What?” cried Joe, eagerly. “ How would you like to put a few coals of fire on his head ?” “ What, and burn him?” said Joe, doubtfully. Cousin Herbert nodded with a queer smile. Joe clapped his hands. “ Now, that’s just the thing, Cousin Herbert! You see his hair is so thick he wouldn’t get burned much before he’d have time to shake ’em off. But I’d just like to see him jump once. Now tell me how to do it —quick!” “ If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink: for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head, and the Lord shall reward thee,” said Cousin Herbert, gravely; “and I think that’s the best kind of punishment little Fritz could »have.” Joe’s face lengthened terribly. “ Now I do say, Cousin Herbert, that’s a real take in. That’s just no punishment at all. “ Try it once,” said .Cousin Herbert. “ Treat Fritz kindly, and I am certain he will feel so ashamed and unhappy that he would far rather have you kick or beat him." Joe was not really such a bad boy at heart, but he was now in a very ill temper, and he said, sul lenly, “ But you have told me a story, Cousin Herbert. You said this kind of coals would burn, and they can't at all ” “ You’re mistaken about that,” said his cousin, cheerily. “ I’ve known such coals to burn up a great amount of rubbish—malice, envy, ill-feeling, revenge, and I don’t know how much more—and then leave some very cold hearts feeling as warm and pleasant as possible.” Joe drew a long sigh. “ Well, tell me a good coal to put on Fritz’s head, and I’ll see about it.” “ You know,” said Cousin Herbert, smiling, “ that Fritz is very poor, and can seldom buy himself a book, although he is extravagantly fond of reading; but you have quite a library. Now suppose—ah! well, I won’t suppose anything about it. I’ll just leave you to think over the matter, and find your own coal; and be sure and kindle it with love, for no other fire burns so brightly and so long;” and with a cheery whistle Cousin Herbert sprang over the fence and was gone. Before Joe had time to collect his thoughts, he saw Fritz coming down the lane, carrying a bas THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 1867. ket of egga in one hand and a pail of milk in the other. For one minute the thought crossed Joe’s mind, “ What a grand smash it would have been il Fritz had fallen over the string!” and then again he blushed to the eyes, and was glad enough that the string was safe in bis pocket. Fritz -started and looked very uncomfortable when he first caught sight of Joe. but the boy be gan abruptly, “ Fritz, do you have much time to read now?” “ Sometimes,” said Fritz, “ when I’ve driven the cows home and done all ray work, I have a little piece of daylight left; but the trouble is, I’ve read everything I get bold of.” “ How would you like to read my new book of travels?” Fritz eyes danced. Oh! may I—may I ? I’d be so careful of it.” “ Yes,” answered Joe; “ and perhaps I’ve some others you’dlike to read. And, Fritz,” he added, a little slyly, “ I would ask you to come and help me sail my boat to-day, but some one has torn up the sails and made ■ a great -hole in the bottom. Who do you suppose did it?” Fritz’s head dropped upon bis breast; but after a moment be looked up with a great effort, and said, “I did it, Joe; but I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. You didn’t know I was so mean when you promised me the books.” “ Well, I rather thought you did it,” said Joe slowly. “ And yet you didn’t” —Fritz couldn’t get any farther, for his cheeks were in a perfect blaze, and he rushed off without another word. “Cousin Herbert was right,” said Joe to him self; that coal does burn; and I know Fritz would rather I had smashed every egg in bis basket than offered to lend him that book. But I feel fine.” And little Joe took three more somersaults and went home with a light heart, and a grand appe tite for breakfast. > When tlie captain and crew of the little vessel met at the appointed hour, they found Fritz there before them, eagerly trying to repair the injuries, and as soon as he saw Joe, he hurried to present him with a beautiful little flag which he had bought for the boat with a part of his egg-money that very morning. The boat was repaired, and made a grand trip, and everything turned out as Cousin Herbert had said; for Joe’s heart was so warm and full of kind thoughts that he was never more happy in his life —Helps over Hard Places. BENJAMIN WEST. Benjamin West was a painter—a great painter, whose pictures, when once they have been seen, can never be forgotten. He loved to choose Scripture subjects, and his great picture of “Christ Healing the Sick,” and “ Christ Rejected,” are wonderful and beautiful proofs of his genius, skill, and taste. When quite a hoy, as he sat watching his little sister asleep in her cradle, the idea of drawing a picture of the child suddenly came into his mind. Hastily fetching some paper and a pen, Benjamin succeeded in making a very tolerable sketch of baby and cradle. From that .time he began to make drawings of flowers and animals, and im proved fast.- He had had very little school-' ing, but a kind friend gave him some instruction in reading, spelling, and grammar. All this hap pened in America, but when West became a young man he crossed the oceaq, and travelled to Rome; at length he settled in England. His fame gra dually increased, and he was introduced to King George 111, and became a great favorite. He painted for his majesty several of his best pictures, which may be seen in Windsor Castle, and for which he received a large sum of money. He rose to the highest honor as a painter, became President of the Royal Academy, and at length died at a good old age, respected and admired by all. Ilis life will supply us with a short but very good motto — Persevere. Have your efforts proved in vain ? Ho not sink to earth again; Try—keep trying. They who yield can nothing do; A feather's weight will break them through Try—keep trying. On yourself and God relying, You will conquer; try—keep trying. You will conquer, if you try— Win the good before you die; Try—keep trying. Bemember, nothing is more true, Than that they who dare will do; Try—keep trying. On yourself and God relying, You will conquer; try—keep trying. THE THEATRE. The theatre is no novelty, bat an institution of centuries. From its birth it has possessed a well defined character. Twenty two hundred years ago the great Athenian, Aristotle, observed that the dramatic poets of his city had improved upon each other, and had refined their own taste, and that of their audience, until tragedy had attained perfection. The modern drama has made no ad vancement. In the grandeur of its exhibitions it has greatly deteriorated. A Grecian theatre held (rom fifteen to twenty thousand spectators; a Roman even eighty The theatre of Scaurus, at Rome, cost five millions of dollars. What are our paltry opera houses in comparison? The theatre, then, has been tested by time. Its matured fruits are familiar to the world. It has been tried b/*lhe impartial judgement of the good and wise, for many ages. The judgment which they have pronounced upon it will consti tute my argument against theatrical amusements, which may be stated thus: The wisest men of every age—heathen and Christian —legislators, philosophers, divines—the Christian Church, ancient and modern—have with one voice, from the very birth of the drama, condemned, opposed, and denounced theatrical exhibitions as essentially corrupt and demoraliz ing, both to individuals and society. Such is the author's proposition; he then pro ceeds to introduce the testimony of eminent and observing pagans, and says: “ Solon, the chief magistrate and lawgiver of Athens, who witnessed the very dawn of the drama, remarked that ‘if we applaud falsehood in our public exhibitions, we will soon find it in our contracts and covenants.’” Socrates never atttended the theatre, in conse quence of its immoral character, except when Borne play of his friend Euripides (the purest of ancient tragedians) was to he acted. Yet the glory of the stage in his day was never surpassed; perhaps never equaled. Plato, the disciple of Socrates, whose genius is an honor to humanity, tells us that “plays raise the passions, and pervert the use of them; and, of consequence, are dangerous to morality.” He, therefore, banished them from his imaginary com monwealth. Aristotle, the world-renowned philosopher, the tutor of Alexander the Great, laid it down as a rule, that “the seeing of comedies ought to be forbidden to young people; such indulgenciesnot being safe until age and discipline have confirmed them into sobriety, fortified their virtue, and made them proof against debauchery.” At what age, then, Aristotle, should a sensible adult expose himself to such contamination? An Athenian spoke to a Ppartan of the fine moral lessons found in their tragedies. “I think,” said the Spartan, “I could learn much better from our own rules of truth and justice than by hearing your lies.” Ovid, the famous Roman poet, though neither a wise nor a good man, is a competent witness. In his celebrated poems, written expressly in the interest of lewdness, he recommends the theatre as favorable to dissoluteness of 'principles and manners. In his latter days, in a graver work to the Emperor Augustus, he advises the suppres sion of this amusement, as a chief cause of corrup tion. SPEAK TO HIM ABOUT HIS SOUL, A t a meeting for prayer and fasting last Tuesday, a brother who was, I think, the best man amongst us, made a confession of cowardice, and we all looked at him and could not understand how he could be a coward, for a bolder man I do not know. He told us that there was a man in his congrega tion who was a wealthy man. If he had been apoor man, he would have spoken to him about his soul; but, being a wealthy man, he thought it would be taking too much liberty. At last one of the mem bers happened to say to him, “ Mr. So-and so, have you found a Saviour?” and bursting into tears, the man said, “Thank you for speaking to me; I have been in distress for months, and thought the minister might have spoken to me. Oh, I wish he had; I might have found peace.” I am afraid, that often and often you good people have sinners convinced of sin sitting by the side of you, and when in the place of worship, and when the ser mon is over, you ought to get a word with them, —you might be the means of their comfort, but you forgot it, and you go your way. Now, is this a tiling to he forgotten, as if it were no great of fence ? Let me give you a picture which may set it forth. See yonder poor wretches whose ship has gone down at the sea, they have constructed a poor, tottering raft, and have been swimming on it for days; their supply of bread and water is ex hausted, and they are famishing, they have hound a handkerchief to a pole and hoisted it, and a ves sel'isin sight. The captain of the ship takes liis telescope, looks at the' object, and knows that it is a shipwrecked crew. “Oh!” says he to his men, 'ihwe are in a hurry with our cargo, we can not stop’ to look.after an unknown object; it may 4rg>h6hfc|lidy^l(ifishlng J anj it may hot be, but however, it is ntit our business,” and he keeps on his course. His neglect has murdered those who died on the raft. Yours is much the same case, only it is worse, because you deal with immortal souls, and he only deals with bodies which he suf fers to die. Oh, my brother, Ido implore you before the Lord, never let this sin lay at your door again; but if there be one who is impressed and needs a word pf comfort, fly on the wings of mercy to such a soul, and help to cheer him as God enables you —Spurgeon. NOT I, BUT CHRIST. REMINISCENCE OF THE BERLIN CONFERENCE. A few years ago, while traveling on a railway in Germany, an incident occurred which, at the time, made a very deep impression on my mind. The remembrance of it will remain fresh and vivid to my dying day. I was seated in a third class carriage, which was filled with Germans.— A feeling of loneliness and isolation for a while oppressed me. I tried to amuse myself by listen ing to the animated conversation of those who sat near me —the language being not quite unfamiliar to my ear. I found that the principle topic that occupied the busy talkers was the Evangelical Alliance, which had met in the city of Berlin. The papers that had been read, and the addresses that had been delivered during the several days of meeting, had evidently awakened a deep inter est in the minds of all. The fact that the King and Queen of Prussia had attended some of the meetings of the Alliance, and had also shown much personal kindness to its members, by invit ing them to the palace of Potsdam, could not fail to add to the eclat of the proceedings, and draw public attention more directly toward them. Amid the general noise of many voices, and the smoke of many segars, my attention was especially directed to two men in a corner of the compart ment I occupied, sitting vis-a-vis, engaged in the most earnest conversation on a subjeet which was plainly deeply interesting to both of them. I listened attentively, and heard that the theme was Christ I instantly leaned forward, to catch, if possible, every word. I discovered that the principal speaker, an elderly gentleman, was nar rating a remarkable change that his views had undergone, in consequence of an address which he had heard at one of the meetings of the Alli ance. From his conversation I learned that, up. to the time of his hearing that address, he had always regarded himself a sound and honest Christian. He had always been regular in his attendance at church, and had paid all respect to the ordinances of religion. He had maintained an outwardly decent and respectable character, and would have taken it highly amiss if any one had suggested doubts about the genuineness of his claim to be regarded as a true Christian. He told his companion how entirely that good opinion he had formerly entertained of himself, had been dissipated by the truths he had heard expounded in Berlin. They had forced him to the sorrow ful conclusion, that all his former good opinions of himself, and of his relation to Christianity, were wholly a delusion. “ But now,” said he, and his beaming eye and quivering voice betokened the warmth of his emo tion, “I have discovered what it is to be a Chris tian.” Opening his New Testament at the place, he read, with distinctness, aijd with an emphasis which showed that he understood and felt what he read, these words of the Apostle, in the old translation of Luther, —“I am crucihed with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” Gal. ii: 20. ‘ The man who can say that," he continued, ‘is a Christian. He expatiated with great earnestness and warmth oo the vast importance of truth which he had discovered, explaining to his willing hearer all the precious things which lay hid in this, to him, most marvellous text. The warmth, and impres sive seriousness of his manner, when in the course of his remarks, he again and again exclaimed, laying at the same time, his hand on his heart, “ Nich Icht, sondern Christus lebt in mir. “Not I, but Christ liveth in me,” and I could not help saying within myself: If this stranger has made a great discovery as to the Christian char acter, so too have I. Familiar with the words he quoted and commented upon, they never appeared to me before so full of meaning, so luminous The text came upon me with all the freshness and power of a new di-covery. No commentary ever written, no critical exposition, however learned, could exhibit it with so much power as did the simple, fervent utterance of my fellow traveler. “Not I” Is self, in all its forms, crucified and slain? Through a living faith in Christ, are you so one with him, that your heart beats in unison with his? Do you realize the import,of his gra cious words, “ Because I live, ye shall live also ?” If so, then you are united to him as the branch to the vine, and will assuredly be found bringing forth the fruits of righteousness, to the praise of his glory. —Ref Pres. Magazine. LATTER DAY HYMN. We are living, we are dwelling In a grand and awful time; In an age on ages telling; To be living is sublime. Havk, the waking up of-nations, Gog and Magog to the fray; Hark! wbat soundeth? ’tis Creation, Groaning for the latter day. Will ye play, then, will ye dally, With your music and your wine ? Up, ’tis Jehovah’s rally, God’s own arm hath need of thine. Hark! the onset! will ye fold Your arms in listless lock? TJp! 0 up! thou drowsy soldier, Worlds are charging to tlie shock! HI. Worlds are charging, heaven beholding; Thou hast hut an hour to fight. Now the blazon cross unfolding, On, right onward for the right. On, let all the soul within you, For the truth’s sake £o abroad; Strike, let every nerve and sinew Tell on ages—tell for God. A STREET INCIDENT. One Sabbath evening our ; friend wfitJ-distribut ing tracts on Seven Dials, when he saw a dirty looking fellow, with a pipe in his mouth, and a dog under his arm, and having his boots blacked. The following conversation ensued: “Good, evening, my friend, will you have a little book?” The stranger, stretching out his hand, with a look of surprise, cried out “Halloo!” From some reason or other—known to no one, not even himself—our friend cried out “ Halloo!” also. “ How long have you been up to this dodge?” asked the dirty-looking maa with the dog under his arm.” . “About tffree years,” was the answer of the man with the tracts in his hand. “ Does it pay?” shrewdly asked the inquisitive stranger. “Very well, indeed.” “ 0 yes —anything for an honest living; you may as well do this as anything else.” “Well, rather,” replied G , “for Satan finds some misehief still for idle hands to do.” , “ You said it paid well?” “ First-rate.” “If it’s a fair question to put, what do they stand ? ” “ A crown.” • “ A crown! ” (drawing up his breath with sur prise) “Not so had either,”- thinking that a crown a day was meant. “ The pay safe, of*course ?” “ Certainly.” “Does it want any introduction to get irito.it?’ “No; siiriply apply at the fountain head, and if you suit, you’ll be taken on directly.” “I suppose its pretty lasting?” “ For life, if you are faithful.” “ Then there’s no fear of you getting the sack?” “No. If you are ever so old, they’ll never turn you off. Even then, there’s a house to live in and a new coat.” “ Well, it’s a first rate affair, and I should like to have a turn at it myself. Do you think I would suit?” “ Yes. I never knew a case yet where one sincerely applied that was refused. But you had better apply to the fountain head ” “0, of course, I should go to the guv’nor. Where do you apply?” “ To King Jesus.” The spell was broken, and the man took his pipe out of his mouth, and gave a significant whistle. Mr. G whistled, too, and after a pause said, “ Look here, my boy, I’ve served the devil for thirty-six years, and was faithful to him. Now lam serving Jesus Christ. He gives me good wages, has prospered me, has promised me a crown of glory, a robe of righteousness, and a mansion to dwell in. If that isn’tworth working for, I don’t know what is. Good-by.” —English paper. HOW LONG WILL IT DO TO WAIT?” Dr. Nettleton had come from the evening ser vice in some country town, to his home for the night. The good lady of the house, rather an elderly person, affer bustling about to provide her guest with relieshment. 'said, directly hefore her daughter, who was in the room, “Dr. Nettle ton, I do wish you to talk to Caroline. Shedoesn’t care aboutgoirig to meeting, nor about the salvation of her soul. I’ve talked and talked,, and got our minister to talk, but it don’t seem to do any -nod I wish you would talk to her, Dr. Nettleton. S;i\. ing which, she soon went out of the room. Dr. Nettleton continued quietly taking his re past, when he turned around to the* young irirl and said, , . “ Now, just tell me, Miss Caroline, don t they bother you amazingly about this thing? She, taken by surprise at an address so unex pected, answered at once. — “ Yes, sir, they do ; they keep talking to un all the time, till I’m sick of it.” “So I thought,” said Dr. N. “Let’s see, how old are you ?” “ Eighteen, sir.” “ Good health ?” “ Yes, sir.” “ The fact is,” said Dr. N., “religion is a good thing in itself; but the idea of all the time troubling a young creature like you with it and you’re in good health, you say. Religion is a o-ood thing. It will hardly do to die without it. I wonder how long it will do for you to wait ?’’ “ That’s just what I’ve been thinking myself,” said Caroline. “ Well,” said Dr. N., “ suppose you say till you are fifty? No, that wont do; I attended the funeral the other d ,y of a lady fifteen years younger than that. Thirty? How will that do ?” . “ I’m not sure it will do to wait quite so long.” said Caroline. “No, I do hot think so either; something might happen. Say, now, twenty-five ? or even twenty, if we could be sure you would live so long. A year from now, bow would that do? ’ “ I don’t know, sir.” “Neither do I. The fact is, my dear young lady, the more I think of it, and of how many young people., as well apparently as you are, do die sud denly, I am afraid to have you put it off a mo ment longer. Besides, the Bible says,' Nov; is the accepted time. We must take the time. What shall we do? Had we not better kneel dow.n here and ask God for mercy through JLlis Son Jesus Christ?” The young lady, perfectly overcome by her feel ings, kneeled on the spot. In a day or two, she by grace came out rejoicing in hope finding she had far from lost all enjoyment in this life. A SPECIMEN OF THE PREACHING OF WHITEFIELD. Before he commenced his-sermon, long, dark ening columns crowded the bright, sunny sky of the morning, and swept their dull shadows over the building, in fearful augury of the storm. His text was, “ Strive to enter in at the strait gate; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to en ter in, and shall not be able.” “ See that em blem of human life,” said he, pointing to a sha dow that was flitting across the floor. “It passed for a moment, and concealed the brightness of heaven from our view; butitisgone. And where will you be, my hearers, when your lives have passed away like that dark cloud ? Oh ! my dear friends, I see thousands sitting attentive, with tbeir eyes fixed-on the poor, unworthy preacher. In a few days we shall all meet at the judgment seat of Christ. We shall form a part of that vast assembly that will gather before the throne, and every eye will behold the Judge. With a voice whose call you must abide and answer, He will inquire whether on earth you strove to'enter in at the strait gate —whether you were supremely de voted to God-—whether your hearts were absorbed in Him. My blood runs cold when I think how many of you will then seek to enter in. and shall not be able. Oh! what plea can you make be fore the Judge of the whole earth ? Can you say it has been your whole endeavor to mortify the flesh, with its affections and lusts?—that your life has been one long effort to do the will of God? No! you must answer, I made myself easy in the world, by flattering myself that all would end well; but I have deceived my own soul, and am lost. Bishop . Coxe “ You, O false and hollow Christian, of what avail will it be that you have dqne many things— that you have read so much in Die sacred word that you have made long prayers—that you have attended religious duties, and appeared holy in the eyes of men? What will all this be, if, in stead of loving Him supremely, you have been supposing you should exalt yourself in heaven by acts really polluted and unholy? And you, rich man, wherefore do you hoard your silver? wherefore count the price you have received for Him whom you every day crucify in your love of gain ? Why, that when you are too poor to buy a drop of cold water, your beloved son may be rolled to hell in his chariot, pillowed and cushioned around him?” His eye gradually lighted up as he proceeded, till, towards the close, it seemed to sparkle with celestial fire. “0 sinners!” he exclaimed, “by all your hoped or happiness, I beseech you to repent. Let not the wrath of God be awakened. Let notlbe fires of eternity be kindled against you. See there:" said he, pointing to the lightning, which played on the corner of the pulpit-“’tis a glance from the angry eye of Jehovah! Hark!” continued he, raising his finger in. a listening attitude, as the distant thunder grew louder and louder, and broke in one tremendous crash over the building, it was the voice of the Almighty as He passed by in His anger!” F S °j “ d died awa y> covered his face h his hands, and knelt beside his pulpit, ap parently lost in inward and intense prayer The storm passed rapidly away, and the sun, bursting iorth in his might, threw across the heavens a magnificent arch Rising, and pointing to the beautiful object, he exclaimed: “Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him that made it! It speak ♦n P eace- V el 7 beautiful it is in the brightness ereo . It compasseth the heavens about with bended it ” hands of the Mj*t High have A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT. “If men were wise in little things, Affect,ng le Ba in all their dealings, If hearts hadfewer rusted strings .To isolate them kindly feeling ; K beatß down the right Would strike together>,nd restore it“- lf right _ In every fight, The world wduld he the better for it.” THE STORM AND THE RAINBOW; Or,
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