61) . t famitij Cittlt. IN MEMORY OF FITZ-GREENE HALLEOX. BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES [Read at the dedication of the monument to Fitz- Green lialleck, July 8, 1869, at Guilford, Conn.] Say not the poet dies! Though in the dust he lies, He cannot forfeit his melodious breath, Unsphered by envious death ! Life drops the voiceless myriads from its roll; • Their fate he cannot share, Who, in the enchanted air. Sweet with the lingering strains that echo stole, Has left his dearer self, the music of his soul! We o'er his turf may raise Our notes of fetble praise, And carve with pious care for after eyes The stone with "Here he lies:" He for himself has built a nobler shrine, Whose walls of stately rhyme Roll back the tides of time, While o'er . their gates the gleaming tablets shine That wear his name inwrought with many a.goltlen line! - • Call not our Poet dead, Toough on, his turf we tread! Green is the wreath their brows so long have worn— - The minstrels.of the morn. Who, while the ,Orient • burned , with new-born flame, ; Caught that celestial fire,. And struck a Nation's lyre! These taught the western winds the poet's name; Theirs the first opening buds, the maiden flowers of fame! . Countinot our Poet dead ! The stars shall watch his bed, The rose of June its fragrant life renew His blushing mound to strew, And all the tuneful throets of Summer swell Wlth'trills as - oiystal-clear As when he wooed the ear Of the young muse that haunts each wooded dell With songs'of that "rough land" he loved so long arid well! He sleeps; he cannot die! As evening's long-drawn sigh, Lifting the rose-leaves on his peaceful mound, Spreads all their sweets around. So, laden with his song, the Ireezes blow From where the rustling sedge, Frets our rude ocean's edge To the smooth sea beyond the peaks of snow, Iris soul the air enshrines and leaves but dust below! THE GAY WIFE AND HER HUSBAND. BY REY. D. NASH In the retired and quiet town of N., not far from the „rock on which our. pilgrim / fathers landed, and near the spot where the dust of many of them reposes, stood a neat and pleasant house, the abode of Mr. and Mrs. E. Happy in each other, and mingling in a large circle of gay companions, they lived only for this world. The husband was devoted to the pursuit of an honest calling, bat a despiser of the religion of Chriat, almost entirely neglecting the house of God on the Sabbath. Instead' of going to the sanctuary, the sacred hours of the holy day were' spent in roving about in search of pleasure, or in reading light books and papers. The wife attended public worship, though she cherished a deep-seated hatred of Chris tians. She loved dress' and fashion and went to the house of God to See seen, and while away the hours of holy time. She had a godly mother, who had long prayed for the conversion of her, children. The Spirit of GA, during some montbs of spiritual refreshment, came down in the town where the mother resided, which was bat a few miles from the abode of M.r. arid Mrs. E. The pious mother was. blessed in her family, and her daughters at home were made the subjects of renewing grace. When the tidings reached the ears of Mrs. E. she resolved that, however it might be with her sisters her own heart should never, be moved. She resolved to resist to the ut most all serious feelings. She soon found, however, she was not quite at rest. She did not so well enjoy the company of her gay companions; yet she, could not tell why. She found herself inclined to with draw from those places of pleasure she had always loved so well—a mystery to herself —and the question would arise in her own mind, What does this mean ? Am I going to be a Christian ? No, I will never be 'a Christian ; I will never give up mV pleasure for religion.' This, state of mind had con tinued about three weeks when she received an invitation from her mother and sisters to visit them, and at once decided to go, at the same time resolving that nothing they should say to her on the subject of religion should move her heart. This resolution gained strength until she reached her mother's home, and the time drew near for her to leave. . Religion was the theme on which her mother= and ; sisters, dwelt, They were deeply interesthd, while she was filled with the hatred of the nn t renewed heart. In the course of conversation the mother, with the tender yearnings of a mother's heart, made a direct apfleal to her, saying : " 0 A.., will you: .be left of all our family to perish in sin ?" The question was an arrow , which pierced her heart, and with tears and trembling she said, " Mother, will you pray for me t' The mother knelt in prayer, and besought God, in His abounding mercy and grace, that He,would bow the stubborn will of her daughter, and lead her to accept of offered mercy without delay. She then told her that she, had been made a subject of special prayer in a little praying circle every day for three weeks—the very three weeks she had felt such a diiinclination to engage in her usual found of:Worldly pleasure. At evening she returned:to her home, and went to the house of :her Pastor and left a request for him to call in the morning. He did ,so,.and i folnA rsj,pie,ing. in the forgiveness or Op,. TVs .' _inwiird,' conflict wae . over, 'her - will `subdued and , the peace which passeth all understanding filled her THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JULY 15, 1869. soul. She now thought of her husband, who was most of the time from home, his business being in another town. Knowing his hostility to religion, she feared to com municate her feelings to him, but after im ploring divine aid and committing the whole matter to God, she frankly wrote him of the wonderful change in her feelings and the great joy she felt in the service of Christ, tenderly entreating him to seek the salvation of his soul. He bad long been in the habit of writing to her weekly, but to this he made no reply. Meanwhile, he was made a subject of special prayer, not only by his anxious wife, bat by the same circle offriends who haksto earnestly prayed for her. After waiting a short time she wrote again, but as ' before, he made no reply. Eler heart was greatly troubled, and with trembling she penned ' the third letter, which be very coldly answered, saying that ' she had destroyed all; his happiness : he had now no wife, no."hoMe no pleasure in anything,' adding, may be at home at Thanksgiving,. but if •I come, do,n't 'you speak to me.' Thanksgiving came at length. in all these weeks she had not seen him, and :had scarcely heard from him ; hut .ehe betook herself to prayer, entreating God to, appear for her and grant her wisdom and grace -for every emergency,, and bring her hinsbend into the kingdom of ,Qhrist. When he ar rivedoshe greeted him tenderly and affec tionately, but received only a cold 'lookin return, without a word being uttered by him. Ye passed into the house, ,main taining the same coldness And dissatisfac tion day after day, constantly avoiding her society. After a suitable time she felt it to be her duty and privilege to connect her self with the people of God by a public profession of her faith. This she desired to do with a church to which her mother and sisters belonged, a few miles distant. She made her wish known to her husband, and procureda ' carriage which was brought to the door. She said to him : "E—, willyou not go with me,?". " No," said he, adding a dreadful oath ; I I hope you will never cone back." She again sought relief in prayer, and dropping a few tracts where they might come in his way, with tearful eyes, but, a trusting heart, she left her husband that she might confess Christ befor l e.men. , From an' inmate of ,the family She after ward learned that when she ,was gone he seemed troubled, walking &boat the house; looking over the tracts, arid finally wohder ing when A. would come back seeming im patient for her return. On reaching home at evening she said, as she met her husband '•,• "E., are you willing to see 'He 'made bUt little reply,' retiring`=to: ,another room. , ' . His wife having occasion soon •;after to go into the same apartment found Mth albne;' but troubled. Said be : " A., will yon pray Ter'ine ?" , _ She knelt in - praYei. "While lief conscience stricken, trembling liusband bowed at her side, and .with strong crying and tears, spread his case before God. • That praYer was heard. His sins rose like mountains before him,, and he fottnd:n o, zest until he,was brought to a free and tall surrender -of himself to Christ. ; which had so long profaned (31pA s ts s nq were opened in prayer,"and :lieaFt so full of bitterness was filled with The husband soon connected himself-1014. the•same church his wife had so redniftly - joined. The worthless books with Which hie house was supplied' were laid aside, and' the Bible and a goodly number ; of dew), tional books occupied• their places. `The can doubt the powerof prayer,? • Aslel'and receive, that yoirejoy may be , MINISTERS. AT TABLE. There are other places, !resides the,pulpit, where the minister must makeA d s . ,!At.pj? impression. In his, personal intercourse with his parishioners, at their hooses, ,he will find frequent occasion for the exercise of care and just taste, that by his,presence, he may `do goo 4 and friot harm., , A Writer 41.16 New York Christian Advocate has some excellent remarks on ministerial eti „ quette, and thus touches on the behavior of clergymen at the tables of their people Ministers, 'more than any other class of persons, are invited out to dinners, teas, and • social parties, and at these, gatherings, as elsewhere, they are looked up to as exam ples of propriety—and for this reason, if for no other, they should be qualified to grace the festive board, or the table of any family, and ” eat and drink and be merry " in snob a manner as to makethe food provided more relishable, and the guests delighted with the meal. As in the parlor, so at the table,- a little observation and common sense will enable the minister to act well his part, and to behave with becoming propriety. He should avoid the extremes of vulgarity and daintiness, and no more monopolize all the conversation than all the food. He should pass on to others the courtesies paid o.binr self, and be more solicitous abont their wants than about his. own. He 'should> eat and drink moderatelg, and obSbrve the rules of taste and elega,nce which ,gov l ern at tables of refinement. If he is inattentive to others, or brusiitte in mariner, or boisterous in talk or labgh, or careless in eating or drinking, he is accused of a course nature and ill-breeding, greatly to his diriadvantage. If he is a stranger to the usages ofi, the so ciety or to the customs offthe table, he should observe others and follow their example, as singers follow the leading voices" of a choir, withont destroying the harm,difi of the tune.or making an. 'unpleasant discord t and in thissvay adapt/himself to thesequire- nients of.any table.- It is g-Cl3;agrin to per sons of cniture; and it shocks theirlfeeliaga, when their pastor, or any 'other clergyman admitted to their society, by virtue of his office, ii indelicate or discourteous, or want ing in any of the qualities of a gentleman. On the other band, they are delighted with and proud of their guest, when he is an ex ample of propriety, and impresses the com pany with the graces of culture which he brings to the table—and no minister can af ford to be indifferent to his conduct, at meals, any more than in the pulpit. PRAY WITH YOUR CHILDREN, A young mother made it her daily prac tice to carry her little ones in supplication to the throne of grace, and yet complained of a want of faith and definiteness in ask ing, for them the influences of the Holy Spirit. Do you pray for each child separately and by name ? inquired the pastor. "No, that has never been . my habit," was the reply.' " I think it .of. mucb iniportance as a help to our faith, and to, the clearness and intensity of our desire on ,their behalf: You, l pray with them I trust as well as fa. them?" " Sometimes I do, but not often." - • " Let me persuade you, then, to, take your little B 01) and rd aughter eachseparate- . ly to the place of prayer, and, kneeling with them before the Lord, tell Him the name, the daily history, the special want of each, , and see if your heart is not open to plead for them as you have never done be.' fore." Tears were in the eyes of the youn mother, as she said with trembling lips, I'll try." ; As evening name she had not forgotten her promise, buts as Sarah, her daughter, was unusually peevish, she thought best to-take her, little son first to her chamber. Willie was a bright and 'pleasant boy of five years, and wheri,his mother whispered her wish to, pray with hini, ue 43..i1y put his hand in hers and knelt by i her side. .-As he ,heard his name mentioned before tlieLe a tender bush fell on hiS young spir , ajkci ho'elasped his mother's fingers moro ti - hay , • as each petition for, his special need was breathed into .the ear of , his Father Eleayen., IMEE , ' •-• . ~ : HOME POLITENESS: . t o Should an acquaintance. ;tread on, your, dress, your bestHyour i verY best—and by accident tear it, how.profase you are with your " never mind—rdon't,thlnk it-I, don't care at all." If a iit(sband *does it he gets a frown ;. if a.child he is qhastised. , "Alilathe - AS 'are little thi '' ngs, , say You- They tell' mightily on. the heart, be aes,ured, little as-they. are. ,-•, ~ 4 gentlemanstokAt a friend's houieand finds. it in confusion: " •H@ don ' t see any thing ~ to apologize for, .never ,t,hinks of such, matters ;, _eNerything 1, all right ;" , cold eiippeir, pold..)voni, crying children; - ," per fectly corailliakilio.'k • ~ , He.goegliVto ; his wire. has 'been - taking care of the sick ones, and worked', tdmost out. ' " , 04::!h,'t see why, things,;can't be ,10pt in -bet-order; there never,were such ;cross childreOefore." .Toapologiss except away from bokeg L Why not birhqlite at home ? Why not 41: - 'o3el freely' the gSgton ectin of courtesy ? owsweet lii ' , l atolind, iliose little words, " 1 thank ~,,:vt=" You are, verylfind." ~ Doubly, ya4;:trltily sweet from. / the lips we 'love, , wiien trt-smiles ,Make the eyes, sparkle wittt 03 clear light of: affection. " Msrpcoliti*tto your children. ;DO you ex speetlthem to be mindful 'Of yonr Welfare, to . grow glad , a, , ti'yOur approach, to 'bound away to do your pleasure before your re quest is half 4)407., . Then with, your 1 dignity and, authority mingle` politeness. - . .... L. " ComO with me, sir, come ! A flower .very Jere. 'cot beautiful in exclaimed a Malay, who drew the attention of Dr. Ar nold to a flower remarkable alike for, its enormous 'Size afid' its anomalous structure and'habit. , And the surprise of the Malay was nothing compared with ;that of Dr, Arnold, and his col:anal:410, Sir Stamford and Lady Raffles, when 'folloWing their . native attend , ant, they saw-among the, bushei of a jungle a flower apparently 'springing out of the ground,without : stein or ;leaf ; and measuring at least, a yard in diameter. The, first news of this remarkable discovery created a great amount of curiosity in Europe, and no paperi'ever read at the , Linnean So ciety can be compared; for theinterest they excited, - with those. in Which, the illustrious Robert BroWri deaCribad this wonder of t, vegetable world. The most striking feature in the Rafflegia,fs itS enormous size ;' indeed it 'is the 'Jai* and 'most magnificent flower in the * world. It is composed of five roundish leaves or petals, each a foot across, of a brick-red: color, but eovered With ' numerous irregular yellowish-white swellings. The petals flurround a large cup nearly a •foot wide, the_ margin of which bears the stamens; 'and 'this cup is filled with a fleshy disc, the uPPPr surface of which is everywhere covered with curved projections, like miniature cows' horns. The cup,• when- freed; from its contents, would hold ahout , twelve pins of water. The flower weighs fifteen pounds. It is very thick, the petahA being from one to three.sparters of an inch in thickaess. A flower of such dimensions and weight; might eipected to be a, treasure to the per fumer;:64, 41404 its, Odor. is exactly that of tainted beef' .Arpold supposed that even., the flies 'which , swarmed over. , the. flower when he discoverasLit were., deceived„ by its smell,and`wsrel/epositing their. eggs . in `thihkiitieb, taking, it, for, a piece of carrion! cause •Of !wonder to the !li t tle . bind .47:4 1 61611 who disc.:owed it, w all that theypOuldEn no'leitM connected. with it. It spraiig from,, a small, leafless, creeping stem, about as3itick aa two fingers. A WONDERFUL "FLOWER. Now, a plant without leaves is like an ani mal without a stomach ; for the leaves are to the plant what the stomach is to the animal; they separate from the air the food needed for the growth of the plant. There are, however, strange plants, which are ac tually leafless, making up for this want by using the leaves of others. Such plants are called parasites, because they feed on the nutritive juices of others. Thrusting their roots into the living tissues of other plants instead of into the earth, they appropriate the prepared food of these plants, and at once apply it for their own purposes for the production of stem, flower, or fruit. The gigantic Raffiesia belongs to this class. Without a vestige of foliage, it rises at once from the long, slender stems of one of the wild vines of Sumatra—immense climbers, which are attached like cables to the lar gest trees of the forest. The buds push through the bark' like little buttons, con tinuing to grow.until they have‘,the aspect of large closed cabbages, and in about three months after their first appearance the flower 'expands., It remains but; a short time in perfection, soon beginning to rot, leaving oily the central disc which be com'es a' large, rough fruit, filled with inul-" titudes of small, simple seeds.—World of Wonders THE MOUND BUILDERS. There once lived over nearly the 'whole Of this country a race of people , of whom we have not the slightest tracein history; that they were numerous and ingenious is , about all that is certainly known of, them. Where • th`ey- came from, how long• they existed, what , were their principles of goyernment, .what` became of them , andli, thousand Other queries that arise, can only be 'answered by conjecture. Considerable similarity is found between their relics and more modern works in Central America,, from which it is in ferred that they, disappeared in that di rection, or else that:the last remaining por tion became the origin of the preset race -of Central Anierican and Mexican Indians. = No remains of them are founsd,in the New England. States, bat all over the prairie lands.of the West, and down the Mississippi Valley, from Pennsylvania to the Rocky Mountains, and from the 'Great Lakes to the Gulktheir monuments are scattered. It; was early noticed by European settlers that certain large mounds or hills, in the district mentioned were too Symmetrical in form to,have been. Of nattiral origin. The character and habits of the Indians not then 'being well understood ; the work was at first attributed to them, and the idea was strengthened by the finding of Indian 'graves •in' the Mounds, but near' their. Sur face. . Inirestigation has shown •conclusive= ly that theirbuilders were another entirely !distinct people. The hills are perfectly conical inshape, and are cOmposed of alter nate layers of loam , and' gravel. . Trees many hundreds of Years old r=grow upon, `them, proving teeir L extreme age. By, dig s . ging- i [Va. directly.perpendigular age....` from, the apex _ to. the base, a large Structure of stone .resembling an "altar, and "El few toolsi, are' always found', ustially 'also' Seine .small articles hf strange shape and unknowtruse, and in some. instances human reca,aips are, 'discovered. The tools are of copper, and possess a hardnehs and temper much like that of steel, the art of produeinewhichi ' soft, metals is not known at the present day. , The human remains indicate that the tll9ll were of large size, with- well, developed heads, entirely differene in shape from those of the North American Indians. The town of pircleville, Ohio, takes its name from au extensive system of ancient earthworks upon' 'which it stands. These works comprise ,large ridges running at right" angles and' forming .great squares in regular rows,- as. though intended for the foundations for buildings A very high and . • wide ridge surrounds the whole, and from this wall to the Ohio 'River near' by, extends an immense.roadway or inclined, plane. At the 'summits of several mountains, high` abovesurrounding peaks, and in places very difficult approach, are square cham bers, cat . down into the solid rock, and evi dently intended for defense. In the vicinity of Lake Superior, traces of• the Mound Biiilders are quite abundant. There they obtained the copper fur their tools. Their manner of operating was to break out the ore in masses. The effects of the long action of .time upon these remains are very marked, and the same kind of im ,,plements ,are found . here which ire 'discov ered in the mounds. •A systematic and thorough examination of all the relics, it is understood, is. now being made , and it is to, be hoped tbat:racire light may be obtained upon a iulEljuO . iii interesting.—L. S. Metcalf. JOHN' BUNYAN. BY Y. B4I4NTY9N AtAPAULAY To the names of Baxter and Howe must be added the name of a mane far belo-w them in station and in acquired knowledge, bat in virtue their equal, and in genius their su perior, JOHN B,ITNYAN, Bunyan had been bred a tinker,,andhad served as a private soldier in the. Parliamentary army. Early: in his life he had been fearfully tortured hy remorse for his youthful sine, the worst of which seem, however, to have been such as the world thinks venial. _die keen sensi bility and his powerful imagination made , his,internal conflicts singularly terrible:n He fancied that' he was under sentence of reprobation, that he had committed bias phemy against the Holy Ghost, that he had sold -Christ, that he was actually possessed kdo.poti.o..Sometimea loud voices from• lie.ayen cried out to - r warn him. Sometimes fiends whispered impious suggestions in his ear. He saw viiiions of diStant'-niOuntain tops, on Ntdch the, inn shone' brightly, but from l which he was separated by a. waste of 'wow. He-felt the devil behind him pulling his clothes. He thotight that the brand of Cain had been set upon him. He feared that he was about to burst asunder like Judas. His mental agony disordered his health. One day he shook like a man in the palsy. On another day he felt a fire within bis breast. It is difficult to understand how he survived sufferings so intense and so long continued. At length the clouds broke. From the depths of despair the penitent passed to a state Of serene felicity. An ir resistible impulse now urged him to impart to others the blessings of which he was himself possessed. He joined the Baptists, and became a preacher and writer. His education had been that of a mechanic. He knew no language but the English, as it was spoken by the common people. He had studied no great model of composition, with the exception, an important exception un doubtedly., of our noble translation of the Bible. His spelling was bad. He fre quently transgressed the rules of grammar. Yet the native force of genius, and his ex perimental knowledge of all the religious passions, from despair to ecstacy, amply supplied him the want of learning. His rude oratory rouged, ana Melted hearers who listined tvitnont, interest to the la bored_ discourse of areat lOgicians and lie braists. His works were widely circulated among the 'humbler classes One of them, the PIL GRIM'S PROGRESS, was, in his ;own life-time, trrnslated into iieveral fOrelei languages. It was, however, scarcely - .160in to the learned and polite, and had been, during "near' a century, the delight of plods cotta gers and artizans, before it was publicly commended 'by; any` man of high literary eminence. At' length critics cendescended to inquire where the, secret so wide and BO durable a popularity lay. They were coMpelled to own that the ignorant multi tude had judged more correctly than the learned, and that . the despised little book ‘was , really a master-piece. - Bunyan 'is in deed as decidedly the first of, allegorists, as Demosthenes is the ,first of orators, or Sliakeripeare the first of ; Dramatists., Other allegOriste have . stiOwn eqUal ingenuity, but no .other rist ester been able to touch the . heitit, and to make abstractions objecti of terror, of' pity, and of love. It may be doulited : whOher, any ,English Dissenter hadsuffered more _severely under the penal, laws than 'Sohn -Bunyan. Of the twanty-seven,years Which,had„ elapsed, since the -ReAtoration, :he had. passed twelve in confinement . persistefi,in preach ing, but, that, he might preach, he .was un der the necessity of Aisguieing himself like a carter. He was • often introduced into meetings through back-doors, with a smock frock on had back and a whip in his hand. If he had thought only of his own ease and safety; he would have hailed the indulgence with, delight. He was now , at length free ,to.pray and exhort in open day. His con gregation rapidly ,increased; ~ t housands hiing upon hip words; and at Bedford, where he originally, resided, money was plentifully eentributed to build a meeting house,for him. Ais in&tenee among the common _people was, such that Ole govern ment would willingly have bestowed on him some mueicipal . otrice; but, his.vigorous un derstanding and ''his stout English_ heart were proof against all delusion and all temptaticm i ne.felt assured ; that the prof fered toleration was merely , a , bait to lure the Puritan.party to destruction; nor would he, by ' aepepting aplace for which he was legally ,qualified, recognize the validity of ‘the dispensing power. , One of the last acts of 'his virtuous, life was, to decline an interview ,to which . he was invited by an agent of government. TRUE GRBATNE4I3; Moral greatness consists pit 4 in _the office a man fills; or in the eleTation,he has reach ed by the zeal, 'Ol . his friOnds.. The humblest individual.i&our neighborhood, may in re ality be the greate4 nuip H e i s unknown by the, crowd ; ,;; but _in, correct prin ciples, moral habits:, a 1 ; 1 4 ,nnbouding integri ty, he shows I" grande j ur,of character ; which lew men can boast. 1 talents,and exer tions are forming ailfillXing the ; opinions of multitudes, whg...iirie not Lsoneible,of the influence he has;upon. :thew, ,_works si lently, judiciously, apcl,e4astantly, This, is moral greatness. Where yoit fin,d ; man leading yon alongimpercoptibly, as by silk en cords, and silent., resistleas appeals, you may be sure he possesses in ayre-enainent degree the elements of real greatneaS. 'Such an individual is worth' to'Godand hutnanity &thousand .times as mach. as:the man who is elevated in tho glaro. of: selfishness and popular applause—who has been fitted up by -the hands of others but who never raised limself. an 'inch by his courage, his steadfastnebs, or his moral power-or virtue. JOHN' HANOOOK% ItiGNATURE. Here. IS' fhb reason why the famous Sonu HANcocK•Wrote his signature to the Becht yatien ,of Independence in so large and bold a han4. It is knoirn that the British,Govern nacht offered $3,500 for, his head, and when he appen4ed . his name to the Declaration, he aid: ft as though he' wished to dash his whole .sOnl ) into it Rising front his seat, he Nclaimed, " There,-=-JOhn )31111 can. read .my„ name without spectacles; he may deukqe his reward, and I will set him at defiahcp,.," , W BRI T AIN POPULATION OF GREAT RITAIN OD Jane let, 1869, ;according to the estimates of: the Registrar General, amounts to 31 1 ,015,234 sonls, or :excluding the army, thelnaty and merchant service, and reckon ing only the persons actually in the United Kingdoin, 30,621,431—name1y, - 2 - 1,869,007 in England •and Wales,; 3;205,4K, in' Scotland, and 5,546,343 in Ireland.;Vhisis an increase of 240;344 as. nomp.vnslogy.h fi.he numbers in the IT nited Kingdirn in the middle of the year 1868—nninOViin increase of 220,230'iii England; 17,356`in• Scotland, And 3058 in ;Ireland,.
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