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Prom the Atlantic Monthly.
BEHIND THE MASK.
It was au old distorted fact*.
An tmcouth visage rough and-wild:
Yk from behind, with laughing grmv.
pr.'jutl the fresh beauty of a child.
And so contrasting, plain and bright.
It matte me of my fancy ask
Ifbaifearth's wrinkled grimuess might
Be but the baby lit the mask.
Behind gray hair* and furrowed brow I
And withered look that life puts ou. *
Koch. ns he wears it, comet* to kuow 'v'~-
Ilow the child hides and is not gone.
For, while the inoxerable years
To saddened features fit their mould.
Beneath the work of time and tears
Waits something that will nut grow old.
An*l paiu and petulance and care.
And wasted hope and 4infu) stain,
Shape the strange guise the sun) doth wear
Till her yoaug life look forth again.
Vet. overlaid and hidden, stiil
It lingers—of his life aparl^
As the scathed pine upon the hill
Holds the youug fibers at its heart.
And haply, round the Kterual Throne.
HetivenVpitying angels shall notask
For that last look the world hath known
lint for the face behind he mask.
WE’LL MEET AGAIN.
We’ll meet again ! how sweet the won! —
Dow soothing is its sound
Like strains of far-off music heard
• >n some enchanted ground.
Wo’U meet again! thns friendship spe«ks
When those most dear depart.
And in the pleasing prospects seek
Balm for the bleeding heart.
We’H meet again? the lover cries.
And oh! what thought bat this
Can e’er assuage the agonies
Of the last parting kiss!
We’ll meet again J are accents heard
Betide the dying bed.
When all the soul by grief is stirred.
And bitter tears are she&
We’ll meet again I are words that cheer
While bending o’er the tomb;
For* oh! that hope, so bright and dear.
Can pierce its deepest gloom.
For, in the mansion of the blest.
Secure from care and pain.
In Heaven’s serene and endless rest
We’U sorely meet again.
JffUft Upstrilaug.
THE NOBLE FISHERMAN
On the 15th of April, 1523, a shallop
was drifting in the North Sea at the mercy
•>f the winds and waves, which threatened
to overwhelm it. A woman, two chil
dren and a sailor were alone on this frail
vessel. The woman, wrapped in a large,
cloak, under the shelter oi which she held
her children to her heart, alternately wept
and prayed. • The sailor, having for a long
time struggled against the tempest, and
endeavored in vain to urge forward the
shallop under his charge, had closed his
his breast, and waited in'sullen
silence the death which seemed inevitable.
Through the thick mist his practised eye
.-it length saw hope.
“Land! land!” he shouted ; and retak
ing his oars he plied them with new vigor.
Vain! his exhausted strength could sur
mount no rebuff,even with apparent safety
in his reach. His struggle to gain the
shore seemed but to lengthen the distance
between himself and the strand. At
length he again abandoned the hopeless
labor. The quick eye of the mother de
tected his purpose as he relieved Ms per
son of his heavier garments.
“ You will not abandon my children to
perish ?” she cried, in agony.
The sailor looked wistfully at the un
happy sufferers. He measured the dis
tance to the shore with his eye, and looked
over the boat’s side to waters which, here
partially sheltered, seemed to boil and
yeast asif in a cauldron, the receding tide
combating the furious gale. To save one
of these helpless ones was impossible.—
He ventured on no word of Consolation,
lest his mercy should master his judgment,
but while .the mother yet hoped—while
she leaned forward with lips apart, and
eyes pressing from their sockets to catch
a word, a sigh or a breath in answer —
be cat all, short by suddenly diving into
the sea. . ’
The boat reeled and shivered under the
momentum given to it by the sailor's
plunge; but He who holds the waters in
t|ig hollow of His hand watched over the
forsaken. The mother clasped the little
ones yet closer to her breast, and raised
her eyes to heaven in an agony of prayer
too earnest to wait for words. Her face
spoke an appeal from which Abaddon’s
self could not have ttirned compassionless.
The wave just about to overwhelm her
was broken on its crest by the strange
weight it bore, and as the water neared
her, a sullen and unearthly sound broke
oh her quick ear, and the spray which
flew,across her face became blood-stained.
The dead body of the sailor who deserted
her bumped-an instant against the boat's
side, and then drifted away from the sight
of mortal man forever. He had struck
the sharp points of rocks beneath the sur
face, and escaped the lingering death to
which he thought he had left his compan
ions, by a sudden plunge into the presence
of his Maker.
In another instant the deserted wpinan
felt a strange sound beneath her feet.—
The boat was grating on the sand. An
other bound, : and i t was fasti She sound
ed the water with her arm, and, to her
inexpressible joy, found solid earth, in
an instant she stepped from the shallop,
caught her infant in her arms, and aimed
for the beach, which seemed at a little
distance. As she proceeded the water
deepened to her waist—to her throat.—
She staggered, and the stifling, bubbling
cry ot her children; nerved her with new
strength. An almost superhuman spring
and she was safe again, and anon she re
coiled as the earth seemed ■to sink under
her feet, and another step would have
plunged her into an abyss in the very
sight of safety. The agony ot fear, the
strength of despair and the lightning of
hope each seized \her by turns, until at
length, in a delirnm of joy, she left the
sea behind her —having escaped its laat
engulfing wave—and, falling on her face
in the damp sand, she poured out her
soul in gratitude to God, who had deliv
ered her and her little ones.
She rose; struggling with cold, now
that the struggle was over. Her chil
dren, shuddering with terror and sobbing
with discontent, ching to her knees. The
wind, as if heaven had held it back until
her escape, increased in fury. Rain fell
in torrents, and the waves covered the
shore far above the point at which she
had first felt safety. A react ion of feeling
was taking place, and her heart was sink
ing within her.
A voice! Again, and nearer, A man
upon the rocks, earnestly beckoning as if
some new and imminent danger beset the
fugitive from; death. She saw no more,
but sank insensible upon the sand, and
her children raised a piercing wail beside
her. Unerring instinct! Thejr did not
shriek so when she sat down to pray.
Another moment, ;and the man who
shouted the warning! is beside the ship
wrecked mother. His hardy wife attends
him. She has caught the children, each
by a shoulder, with more strength than
gentleness, though with gentle purpose,,
and is scrambling up the rocks. He bears
the ! still insensible form of the mother;
and,; as he ascends, his hat has fallen be
hind him and- is dancing in an eddy of
rfvater over the very spot from which, an
instant before, he bad caught his uncon
scious burden! The tide, now at flood,
has sweept like an avalanche over the
nook among the rocks, and the frag
ments of the: deserted boat are fretting
among the craggy points of that inhospita
ble shorer ; :
In the cabin of the fisherman, the
mother is soon restored to life. Her
first thought is for her children, whom she
embraces again and again in perfect trans
port of joy. She unclasps a rich necklace
from the bosom of her little daughter.
“Take this gage of my gratitude,” she
■exclaims; “acceptit as an earnest, you
to whom I owe the life of my chil
dren.” , ,
The fisherman shook his head.
“ I have no use for , such riches,’' said
he. “ The products of my labor suffice
me. To you this gold and these jewels
wiU be much more useful than to me.—
Retain them-"
The mother took the hand of her pre
server. Young and beautiful even in the
humble vestments which the fisherman’s
wife had'subslitnted for her rich and drab
bled clothing, her air was full of majesty.
Thank you!” she cried, “ thank you !
You; are right. The service you have
rendered cannot be repaid with gold, and
God, I trust, will put it in my power to
testify my gratitude in a manner, worthy
of you.” ' \
“ Your safety will be our ample recom
pense, and we desire no other,” said the
fisherman. ■
And the honest face of his wife, lighted
with placid joy, bore testiment to the
same sentiment ■'
: > ? TeU me, my friends,” the lady asked,
after a pause, “on what coast has this
misfortune thrown us?”
“ 0n that of Jjtenmark."
This mother wrung her hands in despair.
“ she criedi, “ thenare my
ALTOONA, PA. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1863
children still lost, though they have sur-
vived the perils of the ocean !”
“ While Finn and his wife live,” said
the fisherman, in an effort to console their
unfortunate guest, “ you have nothing to
fear, madam, for yourself or for your
children.”
“But you know not, my friends, that a
price is now upon my head and on those
of my children. We were flying from the
soil of Denmark when the storm forced us
back upon it. I am—”
“ Keep your secret do not tell if to me,”
cried the fisherman, abruptly checking the
revelation she was about to make. 4 * All
that I have need to know is that you
came here in distress, and that you are in
worse distress while you remain. The
storm will soon abate. The coast of the
Low Countries is not far distant. To
morrow, perhajTs this evening. I will con
duct you from this kingdom to a place
where the persecution of you enemies,
whoever they are, not reach you.
Snatch some repose, meanwhile, and con
fide in rby hospitality.”
The good but humble couple hastened
to-prepare, near the hearth, a pallet hf
straw, upon which the beautiful unknown
did not hesitate an instant to place herself
with her children.
With an arm around each, sh# wiis in
a moment wrapped in sleep. The good
man Finn stool breathless attentive, while
his guest clasped her children convulsively
a moment, and straggled almost from the
lied to the door. Then a change came
over the spirit of her dream, an eloquent
expression of Joy jwssed over her pale fea
tures, her lips moved in earnest thanks
giving, and her countenance settled into
placid and sailing repose, betokening
the eonciousness of safety. The fisher
man and his wile Reversed, with quick
and intelligent glances, over their sleeping
guest. Thev hath knew that she liad
again passed through her perils in that
vision, and they both felt happy for her
calm slumber, which spoke so well the
sense of safety.
In this calm rest she passed many hours.
At length, le-r slumber was disturbed by
coarse voices outside the hut, who were
roughly interrogatiug the fisherman.—
The questions she needed not to hear to
distinctly understand : the answer of Finn
she did catch, for it was spoken for her
ears as well as lor the soldiers who had
visited the cabin —
“A hundred pieces of gold!” cried the
fisherman. ‘-Truly, captain, a sum like
that would be worth striving for. Be
assured, I\will take good care of the run
aways if they fall into my bands. A
hundred pieces of gold! Not a soul shall
escape shipwreck, from this day forth for
a twelvemonth, but I will bring to your
quarters. A hundred pieces of gold ! But,
captain,” addeu Finn, with the character
istic coolness of a Danish peasant, “ will
you enter my humble cottage a moment
tor rest and refreshment?” \
The mother shuddered lest the invita
tion given in bravo might be excepted in
earnest, and then —she was a mother, and
the lives of her children were at sthke —
for an instant she trembled at the possi
bility that her host might intend to be
tray her. The voice of the captain, as he
detained the proffered civility and renewed
his promises to the fisherman, reassured
her, as its tones died away in the distance.
In a moment mote, Finn hastily entered
the cabin. '
“ Lose not a moment, madam,” he said.
“ The storm has abated; the waves are
more worthy T>f trust than man ; • and we
must embark on the instant!”
All the strength of the mother returned
at this new exigency, and, hushing her
children into silence by a sign, site fol
lowed Finn as he took a cricuitous path
among the rocks, known only to himself;
and in a few moments, without the ex
change of a word, they were embarked at
the fisherman's skiff, the fists were cast
off, the honest fisherman worked at his
oars with a will, and, in ten hours, the
dawning light showed him the coast of
the Low Countries. Through the night
he had been guided by his familiar pilots,
the stars ; and labor ■ was so much his
habitual custom in his hard calling (ho
had so often endured it as a matter of
course and of habit) that, with such a
stake in success, he did not once think of
fatigue.
Suddenly h new and startling danger
caught his eye. Two armed boats were
pursuing him ; and, notwithstanding they
were crowded with soldiers, and awkward
admit as a cow on stilts, they rapidly
gained upon him. It was evident that
they had been lying in wait near the coast
to intercept the very precious burden
which he carried. He uttered not a word
of surprise.
‘i Down madam,” he said, without
any appearance of being disconcerted,
“ down in the bottom of the .boat, for it
very much needs ballast.”
The mother unsconcious of the threat
ening danger, obeyed mechanically, and
the next instant musket balls whistled past
the ears of the intrepid fisherman. Had
tlbey sped an instant before, the mother
would have escaped the perils of the sea
Hut to have been murdered by the hirelings.
[independent in everything.]
Finn examined with hia eye the distance
yet lietween his boat and the shore, and
be saw that it was4fcpbssible to reach it
before his pursuers would overtake him.
He formed a sudden and desperate reso
lution, and lie erased to fly. He even
turned his boat’s head .towards his pur
suers, and, making a tn|rapet with his
hands, shouted—
•• 1 touts, ahoy! What do you wish?”
“You are not alone," answered his
pursuers, positively.
“ True,” replied the fisherman, as the
boats were now so; near each other that
they eould converse with less effort. True;
1 have a good cargo of fish fqp compan
ions. You can provision yourself with
them if you wish ; but there was no s need
for you to fire u[xm me for that.”
“ Advance.!”
“ Aye, aye!” cried Finn, gaily, yet
treniulouslv.
11 was proper and natural that a poor
tisherman should be awkward and alarmed
before two boats {loaded with soldiers.
The coarse brutes enjoyed what they
thought was the trepidation and energy of
fear, and, as they stood up, their boats
reeled under their shouts of language as
the fisherman’s skiff, urged by his nervous
arms, shot towards 1 them.
A scream from the lubbers! A splash !
The awkward fisherman's clumsy boat
has struck their bows, and the: awkward
soldiers fall over the gunwale all around
into the sea. Nor is thier less confusion
among the other skiff load of soldiers.—
Their boat dipped water first over one
side and then over the other, as the sol
diers swung their arms fc swayed and fell
upon each other, in fain attempts to suc
cor their drowning comrades.
What! another accident! The awk
ward and frightened fisherman has’ taken
a sudden sweep, and run into them, too.
And now he is pulling away tor dear life,
without a thought for the safety of the
soldiers of Denmark ! W hat! a head
peeping oyer the side of the fisherman’s
boat—a woman’s head!
Never mind the men overboard ! Pur
sue, pursue!”
“But the oars have alj lieen thrown to
the drowning men.”
" Fire upon them!”
But the muskets have fallen overboard
with their owners, or from their arms, or
they are in the liottom of the boat in
soak.
That night, the fisherman and his wife
laughed long but not loud, for there might
have been listeners. The good man Finn
never made any inquiries about the sol
diers who had taken a cold bath; and, as
all were saved, and they did not care to
bruit their own discomfiture by a single
stupid fisherman, and as he was too modest
to boast of his victory to anybody but his
wife, the honest couple lived on in quiet
and content until jthey had almost for
gotten the adventure.
One April morning, six years from that
of the shipreck, a party of soldiers entered
the fisherman’s cabin. Without the waste
of a word, Finn and his wife were seized
and bound, hurried to a carriage, con
veyed to a seaport, embarked on board a
vessel, and confined in a small cabin,
where their bands were taken off. They
were treated with kindness, but allowed
not a word of communication with any
person. The sailor who brought them
food did not understand a word of the
Danish language, and never opened his
mouth to speak to (hem.
Thus they sailed. To them it seemed
many tedious days: but they could not
help connecting the adventure with succor
to the beautiful outlaw, and her children.
The rattle of the cotrdage, and the tramp
of the men on the deck, told the practised
ear of Finn that thb voyage was ended.
But to what purpose 9 They were hurried
from their floating prison to a close car
riage ; the horses dashed away for an hour,
when the carriage! stopped. They were
led from one surprise to another. In a
magnificent apartment, amid a glare of
light, the poor fisherman and his wife con--
fronted an array of nobles and ladies, clad
ir all the gorgeoustiess which in that age
marked the difference between prince and
peasant. I
‘ You are the fisherman Finn?” ■
For the first time, the fisherman and
his wife, in their confusion, saw that tbdre
were grades of rank even among the no
bles who blazed before them in what seemed
to the poor peasants almost the majesty of
heaven. The personage Who, in a stern
voice, uttered the jabove question, alone,
of all that brilliant | throng, waS seated;
“ I am that man," the poof fisherman
tremblingly replied!
“ You live on tie coast of: Denmark,
near the village of Logan ?”
Finn bowed assent.
“You extended hospitality to a woman
and two proscribed children?”
“1 did.”
“Without regarding the edict which
I set a price on their heads, yoy not only
I frustrated the vengeance of* the Danish
i people, but audaciously and alone discom
' filed dnd overturned .two boat loads of sol
■ diere sent in pursuit of the fugitive'?”
i A smile of grotesque triumph at the
, great success of an pneounter against sod)
fearful odds lighted, the Dane's eye for a
moment, and then a shade of sadness
passed over his rough features.
r‘ The tale, though mavellous, is exactly
true.”
“ And do you know,” continued the
questioner, with increased sternness in his
manner, “what penalty yon have incur
red?”
“ Death !” answered the hero, his form
erect, and his first .confusion and fear en
tirely thrown off.
And do you know who were the pre
scribed who yoivdared to save ?”
“ I knew her Majesty Isabella, the wife
of Christian, my sovereign. I knew equally
well the two children ; for, if their orna
ments had not betrayed them, the edict
against them told me who they were. If
I have merited death, nly life is in your
hands.”
And the wife of the fearless fisherman
dragged him, almost resisting, to his knees
beside her. A murmur ran through the
assembly, for. they thought it was their
death warrant.
‘‘Thou hast a noble and worthy heart,
Finn,” said the interrogator, in a more
kind voice. “We have but practised this,
apparent harshness to be sure of thy iden
tity. An inposter might have claimed thy
good deeds; no imposter could have braved
death as thou hast done. Thoii hast saved,
at the peril of thy life, the well beloved
sister and nephews of the Emperor Charles
the Fifth. Charles is no ingrate. Rise,
Finn, and kiss the hand which he‘ present
thee; Fortune and honor attend thee; ex
press but a wish, and I swear its gratifica
tion.”
“Sire,” replied the fisherman, “I am
old. I have need only of a cabin by the
seashore. If I have done well in perform
ing the duties of a faithful subject—in sav
ing the lives of my fellow creatures —in
exposing my own life for my sovereign—
are not the word of approbation which I
have heard from your majesty a sufficient
and glorious recompense ?”
“For thee it may be; but certainly not
for us. We name thee Warden of our
Fisheries at Ostend, and ennoble thee.
Rise, Chevalier Finn!”
The emperor took from his own neck an
order suspended with a string of gold, and
Isabella clasped the chain over the rude
vestments of the .fisherman.
At the commencement of the nineteenth
century there still lived at Ostend the de
scendants of Finn. Their arms consisted
of an inperial eagle, on a field gules.
THE MEDICIHE TASTER.
John Hews was ready for fun, and
never willfully missed an opportunity for
a laugh. He was once employed in a
drug-store in Market street, mid one day
a youth, fresh from the country, entered
and asked for a job.
“What kind of a job*” asked John.
“ Oh, a most anything, I want to get a
kind o’ genteel job. I’m tired of cuttin’
wood, and can turn my hand to most any
thing.”
•‘Well, we want a man—a;good strong
fellow, a sample-clerk. Wages are good ;
We pay a man in the situation a thousand
dollars.”
“ What has a feller got ter do?”
“Oh, merely to -jtest medicines, that is
all. It requires a stout man, one of good
constitution, and after he get# used to it
he don’t mind it., Before we dare sell our
medicines we always try them; You will
be-required.to take six or eight ounces of
castor oil some days, with a tow drops of
rhubarb, aloes, croton oil,i quinine, strych
nine, and similar preparations—try the
strength of cowhage by spreading it be
tween the sheets in warm weather, and
try the quality, of sandpaper by rubbing
your self with it. You can count on from
twelve to fifteen doses per day. As to the
work, that don’t amount id much; the
testing department would be the principal
labor required of you; and as I said before,
it requires a strong healthy man to endure
it. We would like to have you take right
hold; ■if you say so, we’ll begin to-day.”
“ Well,” replied oar child of nature, “ 1
don’t care much.” < :
John stepped back into the store, fol
lowed by his brother clerks and the-victim.
He reached from a shelf a box of Seidlitz
powders, and taking therefroih a blue and
a white paper, mixed them separately with
wafer in two glasses.
“ .now drink this, and that 1 immediately
afterward, and inform me as to their re-
tastes.”
Unsuspecting innocence complied with
Joint's request, when horror Of horrors I—
what a sight was there! Nothing could
equal the grotesque figure cut by the vic
tim. He swelled up like a toad until one
would have thought he whs about to burst.
From the widely opened mouth ran rivers
of foam. He gasped for breath threw' hip
aims into the air, twirled around on his
heels, flew in behind the corner among the
glass jars, etc, and amidst the crash of
broken ware, and the uproarious laughter
of the lookers on, he fell to j£he floor and
roared like a lion. John than gave him a
mixture which brought instant relief, and,
the poor tellow once more stood ‘among
the iclerks with a woe-be-gpne expression
that it caused another outburst from John
EDITORS AND
and his friends* 'The man becoming iacfcg
nant was about to leave the «*«n* when
John accosted him with—
“ Here’s a barrel of castor oil—PU just
draw an onnce, and,—” 1
“No, no; I guess not to-day, anyhow
T’U go down to the tovemand see my
Aunt Tabitha; and if I conolwteto oobMh
I’ll come to-morrow and let yon know.” , .
As he did not return, it is supposed he
considered the work too hard.
PLAHTIH6 APPLE OBOHABBB.
We have long been under the impres
sion, brought to ns merely by observation*
that as a rule the trees in our apple or*
chards are planted too distantly apart.
Many farmers look upon the space usually
occupied by orchards as almost so much
waste-. They say they get sd little fruit
from the ground taken Up by the tree*,
and they cannot cultivate the orchards as
they should like, from iqjury to the roois,
etc., so that they are forced, on tpe scorn
of economy, to abandon apple, raising.
Now, practically, an orchard should be at)
orchard only. Except for grass, it should ‘
be left uncultivated after the trees have
reached about four inches in diameter.
We.can see no reason wby a goodcrop «f
grasses should not be continuously produced
for a quarter or third of a century with
out disturbance. A top dressing of manure,
once in two or throe years, we know have
produced fine fields of grass annually, and
two crops in some seasons. The pave
little or no influence upon the invite of
grass; indeed, if they possess any, it Is it)
affording a heavier swath under, the trtett' 7
Hence, instead of setting Out young or
chards thirty and thirty-five feet apart,
reduce the distance to about twenty feet,
in the quincunx form, and if at any time
the trees should become a little crowded
prevent it by additional pruning. Thiels
our theory.
The leading purpose of an orchard
should be to obtain fruit; next the crop
that will do the least damage to the tree*.
This is grass. Grass, however, will ngt,
only do no damage to the apple trees, put
the contrary. It keeps the soil moist anti
of a uniform temperature-protecting the
roots in summer against heat and drought,
and in winter against the severe effects (If
alternate thawing and freezing. ' i
It should also be remembered,! in sea
ting outyoung orchards, to
as low branched as possible. Tby wife'
generally not grow so high, while the Mr
boughs will protect the trunk against 41**
intense rays of the sun in the ’ gummas
months, which are frequently very inju
rious to the health and productiveness |T
the trees. —Germantown Telegraph, . f
CAKE OF PABM rwn.vifinf^
A correspondent sends the following to
the Rural American on a subject which'
interests all farmers; but only a:portion
of them, we are pleased to aay,yeqnirothß
information. He says: ;
“Thousandsof dollars are lost by the
neglect of farmers to take proper care of
farming tools, which a little outlay awl
care would save. All the toq||i and
plements of wood used by the fanner should
be kept well painted and housed. Thfy
not oqly look much nicer, and best years
bdt they show evident signs bf
thrift amd taste. One of the most dhrafale
and neatest paints is a light Hue. This
color may be made by any fanner; Take
white lead and oil, and mix to abouttfae
thickness of cream, and then add PrrtmUn
blue to.suit the taste. Green paint maty
be made by putting in green in plaee.ef
the blue. A paint composed of equal
parts of white lead and yellow ochre mizsid
with oil is very durable, but does not Iqgk
so neat as blue or green. To one pint pf
any paint there should be added
Japan drier or liquid lacquer. It is
equally eesential to preserve toolaof iyop
and steel from rusting ; and this' can be
effectually done by applying a cbat ihlefe
parts of lard to one of rosin. Apply a
good coat with a cloth or brush tnteneyeir
a tool is set away for a white.* The' pr&
paration can be made in any qtmUQty,
and kept tor a long time.” ’ :
A New Measure fob Laocs—-Ndt
long since the keeper of a lager be#ssdisMi
was arrested upori the charge
intoxicating liquor without license, w&»W'
he attempted to prove that Teutonic bewt
age was not intoxicating drink. < :; J :
A number of witnesses whp had amtdjy
tested its qualities, were called oneatwr
another, until hnaely an old £rennan
named W , took the stapd^awl'the
question was pronounced to him. . ~..,t
“Do you consider lagar intonqUmgT’
“Yin,” replied W——,
cant zay. I drinkiah feefty ’tp ■ jpem!
glasses a day apd it ■^ffnii''Mtif| 1 |
put 1 don’t know bow it wp»dd pi*
man vash make a of
■ A m W»
noisee, reciprocating 4ie’ Union**.
erpnen, &otii&V
of seccsh gtoplUfn by iwKKPMM»
bm&mm
aDatcbman.
' -"S'
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NO. 36.
■Vi'
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