The Altoona tribune. (Altoona, Pa.) 1856-19??, March 27, 1862, Image 1
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MBNTJ#«OOK IA'D QA&J&OSAram m offering to Ok poMfe recossniraro iV i. which 88 FUKJU ; ■ > ’ [>ly, quickly aad nnbi 1 olWMMliii 1 con«inwder».tt(»«i*»- ' imoke u ib*t nTmtrwaiit i atoo ’dbitititownlwbf wtfie «Wrt»roi»lWjy Sttlor Oookia* nadllgz GER'S ■ Ag«nejV i HOUSE: AXK BOOKS, - BGTIOJTA&GBS iiolltS *apt if *V «1 to . ■ • jXQmk 1 -' ~ 4* »^f 5 '. m j.mm&am- SIcCRUM & t)ERN, VOL. T THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE. H. C. DBRN, k. 8- '*»» t*onatota. ntn /MT&ble Inrariabljr to adrance,) $1,60. tinned at the expiration ef the time P .M &■ , TBHMK of A®*I»T1BUI0. 1 injerliOD . 2 do. 3 <*o. „ |MB | 86 $ «7H $ W o».«q“»r f , ( J < 1 00 1 50 2 00 t*o £ •« ) - 160 2 00 2*o rt hr« *Uta “«»>**" tb “ th ” e mon ‘»“- “ cenU fit iijnare for ««!• 6 1 y*»r. $ 1 60 » S 00 $ 5 00 .. 2 *0 4 00 T 00 4 00 6 00 10 00 iit line* pr lew One iqum T»o ‘ 5 00 8 00 12 00 Three ... 6 oo 10 00 14 00 fonr - 10 00 14 00 20 00 Halfa column. .. 14 00 25 00 40 00 i l andKwritOT Notice. 1 78 th* year, three .qMrei,, 5 „ Une. »Uh P! r^H C ,i' uarneter or Individual In a.rdin« per line for every Ineertton, noUct extLiin/tn line., fifty cent, a square §lmu the flower of liberty . Wb«i flower is this thmj greets the morn, Its hues front heaven so freelj born I With burning star and flaming band It Undies all the sunset land;— 0, tell ns what its name may be! It this the flower of liberty ? : It la the banner of the free. The starry Hewer of Liberty! In savage Nature’s far abode Its tender seed our fiatherw sowed; The storm winds rocked its swelling bud. Its opening leaves were streaked with blood. Till, lo! earth’s tyrants shook to see The full blown Flower of Liberty I Then bail (be banner of the free, . The starry Flower of Liberty! Behold iu streaming rays unite One mingling flood of braided light,— The red that fires the Southern rose. With spotless white from Northern snows, And, spangled o’er its asore, see The sister Stars of Liberty I Then hail the banner of the free, The starry flower of Liberty 1 The glades of heroes fence it round; Where’er it springs is holy ground; From, tower and dome iu glories spread; It wares, where lonely sentries tread. And. plants an empire on the sea! Then hail the banner of the free. The starry Flower of Liberty I Tbs sacred leaves, fair Freedom’s flowe* Shall ever float on dome and tower, To all their heavenly colors true, In blackening^frost or crimson dew,— 404 God lores ns as we love thee, Thrice holy flower of Liberty I Then hail the banner of the free, The starry Liberty! felect THE BATTLE Of PEA RIDGE. How Foucht and How Won,. THE FEDERAL ARMT. Our effective force could not have been more than twelve thousand on the day of the first engagement, and was composed of Indiana, Illinois, lowa, Ohio and Mis souri fxpQps- The army was divided into three divisions, under the command of Gen. Samuel R. Curtis, a brave and pa triotic officer. the aitßitT. ARsrr. The rebel army was composed of nine or ten, perhaps twelve thousand Missouri State troops, under Gen. Sterling Price; some six or eight regiments of Arkansas, under Gen. Ben. McColloch,; five or six regiments of Texans, under Gen. Earl Van Dom; some three thousand Chero kee, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole Indi ans,, under Col. Albert Pike* all under the command of Major General Mclntosh. In addition to those mentioned, there were two or three regiments of Louisiana troops -and--companies of Mississippi and Ala bama soldiers under their respective cap tains, majors and colonels, whose names are unknown alike to your correspondent and to fame. The entire rebel force could not have been less than thirty thousand, many estimating it still higher. THE FIRST DAT’S FIGHTING, Gen. Curtis anticipated an attack from the south, and accordingly had the trains placed on the north under the protection of Gen. Sigel, with a body of eight hun dred men [ the principal Federal encamp ment and main lines being to the eastward, near the head and on both sides of Sugar creek. Meantime the rebel forces were moving in full strength from Bentonville, whence they had proceeded from Cross Hol lows, end with rapid marches were en deavoring to cross the creek, and, by pla c'ng themselves on the norths to cut off our retreat An advance of about two thousand cav reached the desired position, and made a fierce onslaught onSigel, hoping to take of our large and valuable train, higel proved himself the right man in the fight place. He gallantly met theenemy, and, while he repelled their charge, pre* them from seizing upon our wagons, fhe brave and accomplished officer seemed übiquitous. He code rapidly here and there, goring orders and observing the of attack mid the situation of the at the same time cheering and en- his troops. i Sigel’s desire was to keep the communi cation open between Himself and the main camp, and the enemy’s design to cut off this avenue for reinforcements. They closed round him with tumultous shouts, and believed they had accomplished their purpose, when Sigel rushed in upon them with his brave followers and compelled them to give way. 1 For two hours the strife went on with great ardor on both sides; but it seemed as if the Federals would soon be com pelled to yield. There seemed no hope for them. They must become exhausted, and doubtless they would have done so, had their destiny been in less powerful and experienced hands than Sigel’s. j About the trains, the din of strife rose louder than before and the rattle of mus ketry and the boom of cannon awoke the surrounding echoes. The enemy were los ing ground. They rallied and fell with redoubled force on our heroic band, two hundred of whom had already proved their patriotism with their blood. The combat was hand to hand. Horsemen Were dismounted, and struggled with the infantry, while the officers were sometimes seen defending themselves against the. ad vancing bayonets of the common soldiers. : A superhuman effort on the part of the enemy, and a third time the Federalists were surrounded. Firmer and firmer Were the rebels closing around the five or six hundred braves, who were evidently going to the wall. Only one was left: ; “Follow me!” thundered Sigel, and his piroud steed trampled an approaching rebel under his haughty feet. I A deep, strong earnest cry from the Unionists, and they met the foe with the rush of determination and energy of de spair. 10 00 THE SECOND DAY. ■ The enemy during the night and early in the morning poured in .from the Ben ton ville road, and gathered in heavy- force tp our rear, sweeping round to the right, and occupying both sides of the Keets ville road, a position from which it was ab solutely necessary to dislodge them, or sur render all hope of success. ” J, Truly, before the second day’s engage ment began, the prospect was very dark. ’ Defeat seemed to stare us in the face, and the sole thing possible appeared a struggle to prevent too disastrous a dis comfiture. ; The way to Missouri was defended by thirty thousand of the enemy; and we had little more than one-third the number to dispute the perilous passage. On the south were the Boston mountains. To the east or west we could not go. Were we not hemmed in by nature- and the enemy ? Gen. Carr’s division was sent-by Gen. Curtis to force the enemy from their po sition. About ten o’clock in the morning the battle was renewed with increased ardor, and soon the batteries from both sides were replying to each other with death-dealing voices. ; Gen. Carr made a spirited and heavy .charge upon the enemy under McCulloch pud Price. The rebels reeled as we went against them, but their column did not break.— 'The charge was repeated. Still the foe stood firm, opening a galling fire from two batteries whose presence had not before been known. Our .troops were then .thrown into confusion, and three compa nies of infantry and Col. .Ellis’s cavalry were ordered to silence the destructive guns. Carr’s column advanced and fell back, land advanced again, and beyond them, up the hill, the cavalry and- infantry were struggling to capture the detested guns.— The regiment which protected the bat teries met them fairly and freely, and, for half an hour, the two combatants were so commingled that they almost failed to re cognize one another. “ Our men have the batteries,” was an nounced, and the Federalists rent the wel kin with their huzzas. Through the blue Curling vapors our mfen could be seen dragging the guns after 'them. Ere they had gone a hundred yards, the rebels were behind them, strug gling like Hercules for the repossession of the pieces. Blood streamed anew, and shouts, and groans, and prayers, and curses, went up with the gigantic forms of smoke in the upper air. Brief triump. The batteries are lost. Our men have been overpowered by num bers. They retire, and blood marks their progress, and many dead are abandoned. Midnight comes; and the scattered words of the sentinels are heard; and the Fed eralists and rebels are sleeping on their ■ arms, may be, of the time when they were friends and brothers, and America had not become; one vast militaiy camp. THTC Tirmn DAl’a BATTLE. At six o'clock, our guns opened on the enemy, and our fire was returned from twenty pieces. The firing did little harm. The enemy’s shot passed oyer our heads. Our cause was growing darker. Glen. Sigei observes new positions for our operations. We plant six batteries at different points commanding their prind- ALTOONA, PA., THURSDAY, 27, 1862. pal forces. A fire 'of ball is shattering the space with its roar. 7 The rebels can endure no longer the sheet of flame,'out of which go death and pain in a thousand forms. They have lost their faith in their bad cause and them selves. They are panic stricken- They turn not |back. Two of their generals have received their mortal wounds, and the word is: “ Save himself who can.”' The Yankees have beaten them, and their star has set over the verdureless ridge of this hard-fought field. The birds twitter overhead. The sun shines warmer : and ; clearer. The atmos phere of \blood is' purified by the feeling that it was shed in a sacred cause. ’ THE LOSS ON BOTH SIDES. Our loss cannot be known at this time, but it must be in the vicinity of seventeen hundred—five hundred killed and some thirteen hundred wounded, most of them slightly. Our officers, contrary to the past experience of this war, suffered little, though they exposed themselves recklessly, as Americans always will do on the battle field. The rebel loss will never, I presume, be accurately: ascertained, as they are lying all over the ridges, in the ravines, among the brush and along the roads. The causalties among the enemy, however, were far greater than with us, and three thous and, of which nine or ten hundred were in killed, I am confident, would not be an over-statement of their loss. Their offi- fell thick and fast in the engagement, and-their dead and wounded majors, colo nels, captains and lieutenants, were at least double ours. The Secession officers were generally brave and dashing, and fought in so praise-worthy a manner as to leave us no regret, so far as courage goes, that they were bom upon our own beloved soil. the rebels slaughtered by theib sav- AGE ALLIES. It is said the Indians in the engagement of Friday became so excited, by the alco hol they had drank and the scenes that they witnessed, that they turned their weapons upon their own allies, and. butchered and scalped the rebels and Federalists with the most charming indifference. An instance if this is given by one of the prisoners, a member of one of the companies that suf fered from what the Southerners believed to be the treachery of the savages. Four companies pf the Arkansas troops belonging to Ben. McCulloch’s division, Were marching up one of the ridges north of Sugar Creek on Saturday morning, to ptrengthen the enemy, who were hardly pressed by Gen. Sigel. They soon came in sight of about three hundred Creeks and Choctaws i who stood on the brow of an adjacent hill. When within about one hundred and fifty yards of the savages, the latter opened fire lon them. The rebel major who commanded the battalion cried out to them that they were killing their friends; but the Indians did not heed what he said, and again discharged their pieces. “ The d—d rascals have turned traitors,” cried the Major. “ Upon them, Arkansas, and give them no quarter.” The Southerners needed no second or der. They attacked them with great en ergy, and for nearly an hour a desperate battle was waged on the Ridge; the Indi ans fighting with blind fury, and scalping all who their hands, whether liv ing, wounded, or dead. This is -described as one of the severest actions of the entire battle, and the Indians, who were finally routed, are said to have lost one hundred and twenty-five in killed and wounded. Fatherly Advice to a Boy in Love. —Now, then Bill, what are ye at down thear at Dick Plimtons’ so much? Miss Sally tells me ye’ve got a ’ankerin’ arter Dick’s darter; ’Liza. You won’t come to no good if you (jo that. It’ll be time enough to. run after the gals when you’re ten years older. I didn’t stick up to your mother till I-was five-and-twenty, and at first she hit out so hard at me for my “ sarse,” as she called it, that I was reg ’larly floored. Hows’mever, she come round in time, and we was married at thirty, afore which age my opinion is a man ain’t flt,«hor ain’t intended, nor ain’t got no call tp cary double weight. So don’t get a ’ankering arter Eliza my boy, for Eliza’s a good twenty year older than you, if she’s a hour. ’Sides, she’s got her eye on Tom ' Summers, as takes out Dr. Carter’s wials. If she once finds out you’re soft on her, she’ll flatten yer ’art out as amoothe as a . pancake, and then dance on yer like a mountybank. I know what them tender gals is when they gels a spoony in love with ’em as is young enough to be their own offspring. They aint got no marcy, tfley ain’t, nor no feelin’, not more than a Hinjion savage, and why should they ?—John Roby, a Novel. O" Value the friendship, of him who stands by you in the storm; swarms of insects 'mil surround you in the sunshine. The Persians have a saying, that “Tan nieasures of talk were sent down upon the earth, and the women took nine.” [independent IN EVERYTHING.] The prison at D. is, every way consid ered, under a better organized and surer system of administration than any other I have known. 1 have seen many, mad looked somewhat closely into their meth ods of management and discipline, and have often seen much to approve ; but the prison at D, surpasses all the rest. Vis itors, of whom few, very properly, are ad mitted, are amazed at the regularity, the order, and most singular of all, the air of security and exceeding quiet that prevails. As we wandered through the chambers in the freer part of the prison, we came to one from the window of which a man was looking so anxiously that he did not hear us enter. When he turned around, his eyes were glistening with tears. The warden said he did nothing but stand at that window at all times when he was un occupied. He was a sailor, we learned, whose offence was that he had beaten al- most to death a comrade for speaking slightingly of his \wife, He was in for three years, six months of which had passed, and he was one of the best men about the prison. They had found out that he was accomplished—that there was no better barber anywhere; so he was el evated above his fellows, to the extent of his dignified position, and the responsibility of razors. “ He has shaved me many a time better than I could have done it myself. Would you like a prison shave, gentlemen’” said the warden. I thought there was something quite taking in the idea, and acknowedged my self to be touched favorably with the prop osition. “Johnson, you will shave this gentle man ?” said the warden I threw off my coat, and settled myself comfortably in the big chair. Johnson made grave preparations. I always hated a razor. It was a vil lainous necessity. I wonder if anybody thinks it delightful, that hissing of the sharp steel over the cheek, and that slow scrape over the throat, with the skin drawn drum-tight. When my face was shining with the soap, the warden said: “We will leave you for five minutes, Mr. -, is that time enough, John son ?” “Quite time enough, sir,” an swered Johnson. The prisoner and I Were left alone. — My companions went away in another di rection from that we had been pursuing, and the warden swung the door wide open as he passed through, leaving it unclosed. From my position I saw them walk along the top of the wall until they came to a comer, where they spoke a little to the of ficer in charge, and then they moved on, officer and all out of sight. Upon each corner of the prison wall a guard is always stationed, well .armed to watch that no attempts at escape are made. The moment this one disappeared, I felt a sort of a faint shiver of the razor against my lip. Immediately after, my barber ceased operations, walked leisurely to the door and looked out, and returning, paused an instant at the window where we had found him when we had entered. Then he came back to me and resumed his work. I felt vaguely afraid. Presently the prisone spoke. His voice was very low, quite a whisper indeed, and he cut his. words short. But how distinct they were! “Do you hear me, sir?” he asked. “ Yes,” said I. “ It’s a ticklish thing, this shaving, isn’t it?” said he. “But my hand is always steady. I can do what I please with a razor—just what I please. Be good enough to keep still, very still, just now. I’m dose on to a large vein, you see, right in your neck. Keep very still,' and don’t stir. I know what would happen, and so do you, if you stirred or spoke a word. Good God! These were hideous words; ; but the glare of the man’s eye as he came round ini front of me, was appalling. I ; could not have uttered a syllable if I had died otherwise. “Now,” said he, “listen but don’t move,” and he pressed the flat blade against my throat, as if by way of warn ing. “I don’t like this. I can’t stand it. I’m going. And, so help me God, if you lift a finger to stop me, or make one noise, both of us will have to die! I would a little rather not hurt .you: but—re member!” He sprang away, and caught up my coat and hat, which lay near, still keeping i the razor in his hand. The moment its ; frightful contact was removed, my inert- i ness vanished. I leaped up, seized the: chair in which I had been sitting, and shouted lustily. He turned upon me like a tiger. “ Ah, you will have it, then!” he cried,? and rushed towartl me. I thrust him aside with the heavy chair,; and, lifting it high in the air, brought it down crashing upon him. He sank for a second, but quickly rose again. He wasj heavier than I, and twice as strong, I sup pose. Persons who have thus beep, in po sitions of great danger will not be aston- A VEST CLOSE SHAVE. BY A LONDON DETECTIVE. ished to hear that I forgot, after my; first cry, to call out at all. 1 thought only of defending myself. This state of things did not last a quar ter of a minute. He would have beaten me down soon enough had 1 not, in sheer desperation, made use of a trick which I had once before seen successfully employed. I moved my eyes suddenly from him, and stared wildly into the space behind him, pointing at the same time and in the same direction with my arm. By a lucky chance I pointed to the window. I think that movement saved my life. He stopped, irresolute, glanced at the window, flung his hfnds.over his head, gasped as if he were choking, and, dashing the razor against the stone wall, fell trem bling upon his knees. As I stepped swiftly across the floor he called out to me: “ Don’t go, don’t go!” he said. “ Stand there at the door, if you choose, but wait a minute. It’s all over now; and, per haps if you hear me you won’t wonder that I was driven mad.” “Look lout at that window, sir, and you’ll see; just over the road, a woman with a child in her arms, standing in a doorway. That’s my wife and baby—my poor wife and Baby. She doesn’t know I’m here—thank God for that. I came here undera wrong name, and she supposes I’m far away at sea. I am sure it would break her heart to know the truth. Well, sirs that’s my home. I’ve seen it, andl’ye seen her every day, these three months.— It used to make me crazy, but I bear it better now. But this chance —was too much for me, And to think that I Came near losing all hope of ever seeing ter again. Could I doubt those struggling sobs and tear? There was truth in every tone.— I looked through the window, and saw, as he had told me, a woman standing on the threshold opposite, with a little child. She tossed it up laughingly once or twice and disappeared. “You won’t trust me now I know,” said the prisoner; “but I want to beg you not to let the warden know of this. It’s no use I know. Well, I swear that I’ll be true to home after this. Nothing but three years solitary now, and who can live through that? No, no, you’ll let this go by, won’t you? You, may believe me— ; _you may inded?” Feet shuffling along the passage announ ced the return of my companions. ‘ The prisoner endeavored to calm himself, and I put on an air of unconcern I think was very successful under the circum stances. “ Not shaved yet?” said the warden, astonished. If he had but known' how close a shave I bad been through. “ I have broken my razor,” said John son, looking appealingly at me. “See, sir! I must have another.” “ Very well,” said the warden. - “ Will you wait?” he asked. : “ I think not,” said I. “ Another time will do me.” So I wiped my face, and went on our way. Of course I was bound to tell the war den what had,happened; but even in that great excitement which naturally followed so narrow an escape, 1 think that I set forward all that I could in the poor fel low’s favor. The warden received the story with perfect composure, and assured me that he would act in such a manner as he thought the occasion needed. He condemned his own heeedlessness in open ing so evident an opportunity for guilt, with much more earnestness than he spoke of the event itself. I could not resist visiting the wife of Johnson; I discovered that his story was ■ true, and learned his real name. She was ■ happy in her ignorance of his real condi tion. I sought to ascertain whether she was ttbl« to sustain: herself until he should rejoin her; and then she told that the war den of the prison had also come to her, shown interest in her behalf, for which she could not well account, and assured her of his aid and protection in any need that might .come tp her. She was most gratefnlj bat wondered why he had done so. | A few months ago the following news- j paper paragraph appeared. It was much j copied and, I suppose, will be readily re membered: . “It is the custom at die prison of 1). to permit prisoners whose terms are within a few weeks of expiration to work outside the wall under the supervision of an offi cer. This privilege is in most cases gladly accepted- A few weeks ago, however, it was declined by a man, who, as his time of freedom drew near, appeared more rest less under his confinement than any others. On inquiry it was found that this prisoner had a wife and child living directly within view, of the walls, and that for nearly three years he had seen her daily, she: bang all the time ignorant of his imprisonment, and supposing that her husband, who was a sailor, was at sea on a long voyage. He was unwilling: that, at the last; moment, the fact should be revealed,to her j and ajf his own request, h e continued within the walls until his liberation, which took place last week. Excepting on one occasion, his coaduot while in prison has teen with out blemish." | > ! EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. “GIVE US THIS BAT OBE BAILT BBBAB.” In the neighborhood of Vienna, them lived a young peasant woman who sup ported herself by the cultivation of yaga* tables for the Vienna market. She wasa widow, still young and handsome, having but one child—a little girl who wap just old enough to run about and play with thft other children in the neighborhood. The handsome mother was desirous ofa second marriage; indeed she had already set her heart upon a young man who occa sionally visited her, and whose proposition of marriage she was now beginning impa tiently to wait. But it did not come. A suspicion crossed her mind, that the obstacle in the way of his proposals was perhaps —her child. The struggle in her .mind was a fierce one, but she finally .re solved that this obstacle should be removed —she would make away with the child! Beneath her house was a deep cellar where she usually stored her vegetables.- Taking her little daughter by the ha™! one day, she led it down to the cellar, and thrusting it in, closed the door, locked it, and hurried up stairs. The same evening her lover came as usual. They supped together—chatted to gether—but no mention was made of the little absentee. Twenty-four hours passed, and the mother crept softly down stabs, andoMs tened at the door. The quick ear ofcthe child caught her mother’s step, and she im-'. plored, her to take her out of that dark place—she was so cold and so hungry. The mother made no answer and crept quietly up stairs again. Soon the lover came; they supped together, and passed a social evening. t Another twenty-four hours passed, and the mother made a second visit to the cel lar. , Again the little sufferer heard "her, and with feeble voice begged for a crust of bread—just one. The mother’s heart faltered for a mo ment —but she rallied again and left the' little one to its fate. Another day passed. The mother crept 1 quietly down stairs and listened. Allvras silent. She opened softly the door—the child was dead ! . Taking swiftly the body up stairs, she laid it upon a bed, and immediateiy making a great outcry, called the neighbors to gether—telling them that her child had sudenty died. The second day after there wasa funeral. The child lay in its coffin bestrewed with flowers, brought by the.little playmates!in: the neighborhood. The procession moved: towards the quiet Ootksacker (Gad’s acre) where was to be planted this little seed of an immortal flower: The mother stood, looking down upon the grave, over which the holy man began with solemn , voice to repeat— “Our Father, who art ia Heaven, bah lowed be thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth «3 H if in Heaven* ‘Give ua this day ou daily bread— ” A piercing cry, and the gered and fell to die earth. The hygajgjl;- ers ran to her—raised her—wheit wildly around, she related in gibbering accents, to theshuddering : around the grave, the very deed had committed. They bore her away. Crazed agd aofdt ten by the hand of God, she did pot hog survive, but miserably died—on instance of the swift retribution of thf Great Avenger, and an appalling lessM| upon die words— “ Give us this day our daily bread.” A Stbangb Dbkah.—Old Squire W. is an honest, jovial soul, with few religi ous scruples—fond of a hearty lagghpr a good joke at any time. He relates the / following bn himself as an actual occur* rence: . ' “ One night, boys, 1 had a very strange dream. I thought I was about to gist to heaven A long ladder, like Jwotfa reached from the ground toward the godd place, and it was on this ladder that I went up. When T readied the topi, T-s» found a space of seven or eight fret inter- ; vening between the last round and the es- • lestial gate. I could see withinaad catch glimpses of the fine thipgp inside, Itator stood at ihe leaned over t reached but his bandandtold me to make a big jump. I did jump, hoys, ahdgotone of the d—dest falte you ever heard far I I found myself sprawling onthe floor, hav- j ing jumped out of whito i vnH»< trying to jump into Heaven.* - / ■ -V • I WThe man that laughs is a doctor j withouta diploma. Hi* face does more" 1 good In a dck room than a bushel df ! powders or a gallon of bitter draagfcil*-’' People are always glad toseehim. ■ Tteir hands instinctively » half way meet his grasp whildthey tom. invohurta* rily from the dampy toocfa oftbe dys peptic, who speaks in the groaning of. He laoghs yon out of yoar yon never know what a .pleasant we*)p yod are living h» antil he points oofr'dhjr sonsy streaks on its pathway. ■ NO. 8.