way 18 IT 80? BY FATHER RYAN, {The Poot-Priest of tha South.) Boma find work where some find rest, Ani 8» the weary world goes on; I sometimes wonder which is bost— The answer comes when lif: is done, Soma eyes sleep when som» eyes wake, And 80 the deeury night hour go: Some hearts bet where some heats breake I often wonder why ‘tis :0. Some hands fold while other hands Are lifted bravely in the strife, And so thro’ ages and thro’ lands Move on the two extremes of life, Some feet halt, while some feet tread, In tireless march ths thorny way. Some struggle on when some have fled ; Some soek, where others shun, the fray. Some sleep on while others keep The vigils of the tru: and brave ; They will not rest till roses creep Around their names above the grave. ~—i Father Ryan. A PARISIAN EPISODE. It was in 1870; the war had just been declared. Marshal MacMahon had received or- ders to paralyze by a bold stroke the combined action of Northern and South- ern (Germany. In Paris—as in all France of anxiety shook everybody. strove to escape from the anguish o waiting by the excess of pleasure and discounted in advance—or, at least, feigned to-—the first victory by giving the reign to folly. The open-air restau- rants mingled their tumultuous clatter of arms with the trumpet flourishes of the Champs Elysees; the lights of the cafes- chantants illuminated enlaced couples, who glided toward the gloom; brilliant toilets bloomed in the groves of the public gardens. Like every place where the intoxication forgetfulness was sold, the theatres were crowded to over- flowing, and among them was one of the principal [boulevard theatres in which the publie, thronging from parquet to the fever ol impatient. The audience had assembled there to ney—that was the nom de theatre of the debutante—and those who knew her—and the journals repeated their judgment — had proclaiming in advance that a star of the firat magnitude was about to rise in the French dramatic sky. She was known to be handsome; she was said to be entirely devoted to her art, marvelously gifted and of a natural brilliancy, which illuminated everything as soon as she appeared She had, for her debut, chosen *‘La Dsme aux Camellias,” then still ia the radiance of its first success, and it was % been to have been written for her, and for her The result, indeed, had justified from the first act the most enthusiastic predic- | ions. The mere presence of Jane de Bolaey had, in fact, sufficed to win every heart, to delight every eve. When the spectators had seen that exquisite crea- ture advance, with her tall and willowy | figure; when they had perceived that pale, fine face, with lips at once haughty | and caressing, with limpid blue cyes, | with pure and vigorous forchead and white complexion; when, by a graceful | movement of that profile of supreme ele- gance, they had seen revealed a supple and proud neck and a pink little ear | which shone like a pearly shell against | a golden flood of hair floating down over | the back of the neck, a murmur of admi- ration had arisen from the dense crowd, and, by its prolonged buzz, had inter- rupted for a long minute the dialogue of | the actors, i From that moment the ovation had in- | <ressed, and the second act had ended in an explosion of triumph which no past success had equaled. Among those whom this victory had | most deeply affected was Louis Belcourt, | one of the pensionnaires of the theatre, | thanks to whom Jane, whom he had loved from her early youth, had suc. | ceeded in making her debut; in fact, | leagued with the majority of young jours | nalists, Louis Belcourt had been able to | force the manager to give her a chance, notwithstanding his exclusive passion | {or pupils of the Conservatoire, through which Jane had refused to pass. i This young man's passion had excited the sympathy of all who knew him; he foved Jane with a boundless devotion | and loved her without hope, for he was | acquainted with the man to whom the | young actress had betrothed her soul and | for whom she reserved her life. Only recently had this infinite love | filled the actress’ heart. | At the finish of the last Longchamps | races, at which Napoleon Ill. was pres- | ent, she had paused in frout of the im- | perial tribune to look at the ladies who | rnished the first rows. Suddenly she | felt something like a blow on her heart. From behind the fauteuil of one of the Empress’ dames of honor she had #een emerge the face of a man bronzed by the Southern sun, whose eyes had pierced her with a look in which was painted the same found commotion which she herself had felt. As if moved by a superior power, the man had drawn up his martial figure, He ny hid beneath his citizen's dress his military bearing. Quitting bis place, he suddenly left the tribune, came through the crowd thronging around it, and, apparently unconscious of his move- ents, presented himself before Jane de ney. There only he seemed to have reeovered _ his senses. A rush of blood spread over his bronzed cheeks, his were wet with tears, He bowed, confused and hu. miliated, to the young woman, and stam- weringly attem an excuse, Tg dag padding Be ld t ins of supreme pity w . etrates the hearts of women wimuitane ously with the birth of love in them, the young actress paled at the sight of him and murmured : ‘My name is Jane as ndiney: I shall soon make my debut in aux ing ogain, ‘am Roger de Morfeuille, captain of Spahis and, for the moment, orderly to the Emperor.’ #It was a case of unspoken love. Neither the one nor the other strove to struggle against an imperious domination, From that moment it had seemed to them that they were born for each other. Without uttering a syllable everything was under. stood, But the war was at the horizon, and it was tgoitly agreed upon that their life in union should not commence until after the fight. Roger was sure of being one of the first to depart. Jane would wait for him, They lived in that constant intimacy frommwhich the assured morrow does not banish respect, not knowing in what way their existence would be arranged, but saying to themselves that they would be each other's to the end of the road which lay before them. When Roger came to make his adieux to Jane, without a word having been spoken to prepare for that exchange, each, at the moment when they rose to separate, handed the other a ring, and this supreme betrothal was substituted | for the bitter kisses of a last farewell. | After the second act of **La Dameaux | Camellins,” when the curtain had been | upon the ncclamations which had greeted | raised and lowered for the sixth time | Jane, in the flush of that unparalleled | | triumph, the echo of whigh she hoped | { would reach Roger, the young woman, | | with that melancholy oppression which | too great fortune gives, was slowly | | mounting the stairway leading to her) | dressing-room. i | However, Roger knew that she was | making her debut that evening, and she was certain that, even amid the smoke of i the battlefield, he could not have forgot ten her, Jut, without daring to admit it te her. | ! self, she had, during the whole day, been i the prey of a sort of indescribable pre- | | sentiment. She had watohed at the door | | and listened to the footsteps ascending | the stairway. She said to herself that the { day could not pass without bringing her ia souvenir, some sizm of the beloved { one, who was not ignorant that she also | was going to face the chances of signal lights which decide, here, the life of in {f nations; | 16 was | uneasy, anxious and oppressed | A flash of joy, love and pride shot | of her dressing-room, she saw upon the | white lace of her toilet table the blue pa- | paper of a telegraphic dispatch She rapidly closed the door that she g the words which had come from dear absent one, and, without even perceiving | that Louis Belcourt bad silently followed her, opened the telegram. Suddenly, amid the deep silence of the corridor, through the door Jane had just entered, Louis Beleourt heard a fright ful superhuman cry, at once wild and tender, the mortal accent of which made | a quiver run through his veins He forced the door and sprang into the lit. tle chamber. He arrived just in time to catch Jane in his arms; she was beating | the air with her arms, there was a rattle in her throat; she was livid with grief and yet held in one of her clenched | hands the dispatch she had rua through. | As ne was asking himself in his terror | what he should do, Jane's pallor van- | ished, a flood of blood coloring her vi age; her eyes, now wide open, fixed themselves, as if by an irresistible im- pulse, upon the fatal dispatch. She suddenly handed it to Louis Bel- court, who read the following words “We have been crushed at Warth, They have transported me to a neighbor. ing chateau. Amputation probable. Pray | for me. This dispatch will be carried to | an open station. [ love you th wae * Roan The young actor stood as if thunder. | struck. Then, making an effort, he looked at Jane. He saw her, erect and | resolute, putting a hat over her theatri cal id rts throwing a cloak over her | magnificent costume. **Where are you going 1” he. “1 am going." answered she, in a firm voice, ‘‘I am going to rejoin Roger !™ ‘“But, in Heaven's name, think that the curtain will soon be raised and your entrancg on the stage is expeoted! This is frightful! You will destroy yourself —ruin your fortune, your life! Remain until to-morrow “Listen,” replied Jane. ‘‘Itis a quar- ter to ten: there is a train at 11 »'clock, I know, since a friend of Roger, to whom I have entrusted a letter, starts at | that hcur from the Gard de I'Est. If you prevent me from taking that train — you see that poignard —] swear to you on my soul that [ will kill myself!" Louis Belcourt recoiled in terror Jane quitted the dressing-room and went down the stairway. The young actor followed her mechan- ically, overwhelmed, and walking with the automatic step of a somanambulist. She opened the artists’ exit door, which led to the street at the back of the the- atre, hailed a carriage, and vanished in the night. . When Louis Belcourt returned to the interior of the theatre he found everybody in a state of extreme excitement. The call boy had notified the stage manager that Mile. de Bolney was not to be found. The stage manager informed the mana. er, who had just arrived, and had seen ane in a carriage going in the direction of the Boulevard de Strasburg. There was an immense explosion of rage, imprecations and iosulting lun. guage heard from the foyer to the dress. ing rooms and from beneath the stage to the fly galleries, The man wanted to have Jane arrested. The public had begun to make a noise: strident hisses alternated with the pounding of feet on the floor. It was dreadful, Suddenly Louis Belcourt, who, with lis ardent love, was filled with despair on thinking of the fatal consequences of Jane's flight, conceived a plan which lighted up his face with joy. He ap- frosted one of comrades who was lling a silent role in the piece and hur- riedly conversed with him. The com- rade instantly nodded and went toward the auditorium through the communicat- ing door i demanded “And 1, madame,” answered he, bow- fy i Profound silence ensued, The young actor advanced toward the footlights, and said in a vibrating voice: tt Messiours and Mesdames, Mlle, Jane de Bolney fainted on receiving a dis. patch which announced that the French army had just met with s grave check on the frontier of Germany; as soon as she recovers consciousness she will reap: pear before you, and until then we beg you to be patiant!" A murmur followed these words, A wind of mourning passed over the house, People no longer commented on the in- terruption of the performance, but on the news of the disaster. Then silence resumed its away, deeper and more mournful than before. Louis Belcourt's comrade, who had made his way into the suditorium and the directions he had received from friend, arose. go on before Frenchmen who have f learned of a defeat of their arms! ration. Then the audience dismissed themselves —the prey of deep emotion. FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. POUR DROTHENS Four Brothers are piping o'er land and 0'er Bee Rach Bip ih Ow » and with good Each pipes his own tune and with gooc will pipes he, And one like a clarion trumpet doth blow, Andone playsalullaby, sweetly and low — wild and shrill, rill; Pray who are the Brothers!—perchance you have guessed ; Look Northward and Eastward and West, And listen—hark! hark !—through wood floats a strain-— The West Wind is piping his refrain! Southward and he 1OVOUs fat Nicholas, SICK RAQUIMAL The cunning little children in villages of the World's Fair are sick nearly all the time, to the sweet things which CHILDREN, the visitors cl Jane de Bolney. The rumor of our check, which the Imperial Government had carefully con cealed, spread rapidly through Paris, causing a frightful stupor. As Louis Beleourt home from the theatre a Commissioner f Police, wearing his sash and furnished with a warrant of arrest, presented himself before him young actor was accused of having di. vilged a State secret, a crime punisha. ble with in of war. He was returning death time For more than & month Louis Belcourt had been incarcerated, face to face with the terrible accusation which over him, He had been interrogated as to why he had divalged the State secret been questioned as to how he had ob tained the news; he had kept silent, not whether Jane would f him if be spoke. He was to be tried on the morrow The successive defeats of our troog commanded —had tated all minds; the Government about to show itself inexorable in to distract attention for an instant louis Delcourt was thinking, w grief, of the hopeless love which had led him to the threshold of death, when the door of his cell opened and the di- rector of the prison, standing aside, an nounced “Madome, la hovered hie had orgive 8, irri was order ith ina le Morfeu Comtesse ille It was Jane, covered with her mourning veil, Her beaatifal hair, but the other day of a golden chestnut, now counted more than silver thread: forehead had assumed the austeri of marble her mouth, stili beautiful, maintained rigid contours; ar und her eyes were traced bluish circles, and she had up on herjentire visage that indelible pallor of beings wounded forever, who weep one her ¥ a “¥ Louis Belcourt felt himself seized upon fering without remedy “You are free, my desr Louisa” said “I have obtained your pardon, and the Alas, they can no conceal our reverses, and your hiv official dispatcher. 1 thank you for what you have done for me.” And, after a silence, na il she a sob which had throat, Jane resumed “I remained beside my husband till his death. Then [ took his body to Mor After that | was free: I returned and was informed of the danger you were " had risen in her She conld pot eontioue; her tears were stifling her. A few minutes later the order to release Louis Belcourt reached the offies of the clerk of the prison, and the necessary formalities were proceeded with: the young actor was at liberty. A few days afterward Mme. de Mor. feuille set out for the domain where ro. posed the man she had married on his death bed Roger had been buried with the ring suffer from all the troubles which our have eaten or Thanksgiving ¥ much at Christmas The poor little Esquimau children have In Iceland, where the Esquimaux live, there is no sugar at all r any sweet things. And until they much as heard of But everybody who visits the mau village is sure to i ‘ittle snub-nosed toddlers a stick or something else 3, there was n f peanut, is g that not long ag at the Fair, which the people keep on candy out from their near by and t 4 ust ou account visitors gu sli of thelr Gand -DAags lunch -baskets, 8a woman is stand ell every one that i rk L nieRse Not a bear t 3 fat stuck in a belt at hi policeman’s tured a thief as easil: His na was Bruin un Italian who travelled town making Dr for them both Late farm house and begg He ordered Bruin to d iren, and then shut him up in the bara for sale 2 J] ATO USM He He iH 9 one afternoon ’ Feri ant keepic yuring the night the 5 noise some crying family coming the bar ‘Help ! Help!” The farmer ran to #1 follos win's i 13% Ars ATOU were great fron one found the bear hug- Iz2ie0 master a man’s neck ging him ti 3 ¢ bear was mi i iid do the man no great harm, 1 he was terribiv frightened fish Wn to tne t 3 the darkness h Iven w Ho 31 8 held him f His mast MY called out Hug bear continued to hug ; farmer ag 1 wet or mutters stood him until th we bad been punished italian to him. Bruin of honeycomb as a reward he wished that could days. Littl Ow Bruin 113 phind tha vide make the Was IveD a ubt he f - oo a hief every ar e THRE LITTLE DONKEY. I am a donkey and 1 belong to a very happy family of toys Our little mistress always put lose use the dining room table Sunday. There would be nothing to complain of if only our little mistress had no brothers, but alas’ she has two, and oh, scamps, When we hear them come into the schoolroom in the evening after school our paint turns faint from fear, for we know what is in store for us The boys are not quite so bad now as they were. They used to turn the Noah's floor, put every such the then shoot at us with a horrible toy cannon loaded with pease. It was any- (seni strove to make her see the weakening of her grief, possible consolation and life with anew love, she stopped him with a gesture * + Pursue this no further,” she said; “1 shall forever remain the widow of Ro de Morfeuille, and not having been able to be his, I shall never belong to any one else.” This was the denouement of one of the most exciting evenings a» Paris theatre has ever seen, and thus was arrested upon the threshold of certain glory, the dramatic career of a great artiste, the fashionable life of a woman of exquisite beauty, who had been hailed at her debut as wholly irresistible. The noise of this episode of Parisian existence, and the remembrance of its consequences, have been lost among the thousand events which marked that ter- rible epoch. But, more than one, on readin recital I have Bion given, will, perhaps, Facolleet Jane aiforieutlie ih ot brief experience on the stage. —{Blewitz, in Philadelphia Press. i Wasps Are Natural the Burgeons, Wasps, according to a scientific . are tal surgeons. A pans snl i Soming annoyed by the persistent buz- zing of a wasp about his head, kuoeked -. t window upon the sill, Only apparently, for later a flow on it down with a newspa Shrough an ] : > en table onto the floor One night [ saw my poor friend the bear stamped on. ip and said chap; let's put him in the fire. only how! aad make a fuss.” So into the fire my poor friend went, thao I can describe them. Pretty sooa our little mistress came iuto the room Her distress at the loss of the bear was very great. Her father came in and wanted to know what she was crying about, and he was very angry when he heard what had happened, and scolded his boys for teasing Nellie. I think for the moment they were sorry. They did not mean to torment, but Freddie, the elder, was a terrible boy from a toy's point of view, Things went more smoothly for a day or two, and then the same thing hap. ed, and again we were made to face the terrible cannon. Alas, | was the unfortunate victim, and one of my fore. tags was shot off. Nellie was consoled by making a bed up for me in one of the rooms of her doll’s house, and there for many days { was nursed by the sweetest littio doll you ever saw. Now [ am quite well again—but how I dread those boys |—[ St. Louis Republic. A TIGER FIGHT IN JAVA An English traveler in Java who saw one of the tiger fights peculiar to the thus describes the strange sport: The is sot down in a trap in the center of the Allon Allon, or great square, surrounded by a eid or quad. a hundred soon. as he | walking toward the crowd at a slow and the slower he is the more app does he gain. The tiger, meanwhile, having backed out of his burning prison, is rather as tonished at finding himself surrounded moe, | | | spear at him If he is a bold tiger he canters round the circle, almost touching the spears; | the center, fixes his eyes on one spot, and | with a loud roar, dashes straight st it. He is received on the spears, and mere reeds, in half a minute |} | dead, pierced by a hundred weapons, in some ese, and they give way, becomes rather dangerous to spectators, New Orleans Picayune, The Pecos Bridge, Texas, ’ Another great engineering work re- high cantilever bridge over the Pecos River, This bridge, some 330 feet high, while not the highest in the world, is one of the highest, and at the same time one of the most considerable railroad structures ever erected. When the en gineers locating that part of the Southern Pacifie Railroad came to the Pecos River, they wanted to go directly across with a bridge; but more timid counsels pre vail and instead of taking a flying leap over a canon more than 300 feet deep, it was decided to make a detour f& iles by way of the Rio Grande, eleven or twelve years ago. though the ware sharp and the grades steep, was ex d and maintain, and more expensive to operate, It was heavy tax on through freight, and several years y it was decided to take the flying Pec and thus avoid ti grades curves and The Bridge Compa 3 T » tH * WOrs entire ? ed Was ionger route, CUrves pensive 10 bul © a4 ig ieap of the aud a, ie haul, did the length of the bridge is 2.180 feet from abutment to abutment. here cantilevers 172 feet inches and one suspended lattice girder span of 80 feet, This sus- i between the two eight massive bars, t at each end where it should join The intense heat of the space for expan sion a In addition to these spans there are eight lattice spas of ‘ one plate-girder span of teen piate-girder spans are two 6 long each, i span is hung cantilever spans on and expansion spaces are lef ing itilavers. several Hes the car mer sun makes this of ey Bak esky, 65 45 ' ff 35 feet each, and sixteen plate-girder spans The width of the {ort floor part of on The yi 100% each “9 vieted span is 25 taken up oy f the of Af WaAIKwaY single track safety of five; strength to : BD sufficient pressure made by a « of the heaviest modern ing over "tom the anon and he bridge lattice - work, In it from ti nor ni, oY it tom bw seen its sire structure King's River Canyon, River canyon is situated south wemite, forty-five miles from nd is the valley of the south wing's River, says the Califor a 3 a nian {t is ten miles long, one-half a mile wide, with walls that tower to a height of from 2.500 to 5,000 feet. The depth of the valley is more than a mile, while the flocr is comparatively level, with groves and parks of willow, poplar, fir and pice, rising from a carpet of ex quisite flowers The abrupt walls rear themselves al. river flows down through its dazzling canyon, now gliding gently and then leaping and dashing over huge rooks and boulders through a sarrow gorge into deep clear pools below Numerous streams from the surround ing mountains find their way down the slopes, seeking at last this mighty river, in the furious roar of the cascades, Great masses of rocks, curiously fash. joned, just out from the ponderous walls pce, Headgear for Soldiers. The War Department of the United States has had under consideration a change in the headgear of the soldiers { and officers to replace the forage cap and helmet now worn in the service, | forage cap, intended for aM branches of | the army, is what is known as the German | pattern, and it is claimed for it that the | visor, being turned down instead of being stenigh t, gives more tion to the eyes. The top is soft #md pliable and has the advantage of keeping the head cool. Many officers favor its adop- tion, while not a few look upon it with disfavor, owing to the fact t it is al most the exact counterpart in shape, but, of course, not in material, of those so fre. quently met with on the heads of emi- grants from the Fatherland. The other design known as the bushy, is for the cavalry and is exactly similar to that worn by the Eighteenth Hussars of the Eaglish army. It is made of black astrakhan cloth and will weigh, complete, about ten ounces. It also a sloping visor, but very small. For en- listed men it will be the same minus the pompon or top vrnament, —{ Detroit Free rest. Scorpion Hunts in Mexico. The Chinese Minister's Baby. The member of the Chinese legation | Miss Tsui, a young lady of about two summers, who, for a Celestial infant of high station, has the unusual distinction | of having been born in this coustry. Miss Tsui, except for her bright, almond- shaped eyes, and her queer clothes, im pressed me as being very much the same | kind of baby as our own babies are, She | has u chubby face, dimpled hands and elbows, and smiled in the most engaging manner when it was interpreted unto her—doubtless in Chinese “baby talk” —~ { that she must watch and “sce the little bird fly out of the box.” Likewise, when she was ready to face the camera and het father offered to turn her over to some- { body else for the sitting, she lifted up | her voice and wept, in quite the reguls | tion way, evidently preferring his pro | tection under the ordeal. | This Chinese baby is bright and jolly, { and the center of an admiring group whenever her fat, good-natured nurse { wheels her through the Park in her car- riage. Bhe wears the oddest baby clothes, | —a wadded gown of gayest colors, which opens in frout over absurd little Turkish trousers of green cotton. Apparently the piece de resistance of her costume is her head -gear, —an embroidered bonnet sur- mounted by a flufly pompon of red silk, and edged across the front with a heavy, black silk fringe, which, if it does get extremely awry at times, still makes a nice * bang” for her little bald head. — Demorest, Birth of the Restaurant, v The restaurant is of comparatively mod- ern origin. The first French revolution, at the close of the last century, witnessed its birth. Previous to that time the best cooks were in the emaploy of the nobility, whose ruin threatened them with equal disaster. A happy inspiration, however, led them to open places of public enter- which leaped at once into immense populs vor, inasmuch as pre viously, while the French people were with the { delicate gratify tainment, endowed instincts o cookery, thd their tastes absence re sorts available purpose, The proprietors of many 3 establish ments quiokly acquired a widespread fame and large wealth. Coincident with the birth of the restaurant in France an immense impulse was given to the publi cation of popular treatises on the art of cookery, composed by the most famous cooks. These were rapidly disseminated the people, who, gifted with a genius for gastronomy, promptly availed of the new sources of knowledge to perfect themselves in an art of which they have become the foremost exponents of the world, Among these publications was the Almanach Gourmands, es. tablished in 1804, one of the classics of culinary learning Cincianati Commer- cial were unable to sk vy ’ t 2 hrough of for the § +3 3} ese ri a among patural des {razetie Catching Wild Cattle, 1 8 months ago while chatting with Cal | Register, he gave ao account of the man. ner which the wild Spanish cattle were taken by the butcher when about to be killed A large and well-trained ox, called the ““cabresta,” was turned loose from the corral and he immediately started for the band of cattle feeding upon the open plain, perhaps a mile away. A wwuple of vaqueros would ride leisurely behind him, and when the band of cattle was reached a fat steer was selected and the lariats thrown upon him, one over his head sad another around his hind The “‘oabresta” then approached and held his broad horns Cown alongside of those of the wild steer, One of the vaqueros ran up and quick ly strapped the horas of the two animals firmly together, when the wild steer was released from the lariats. He would dash here and there trying to pull the big ox beside him, but the ** cabresta” would slowly but surely lead him in spite of his utmost exertions to the corral or to the tree where he was to be slaughtered, When the spot was reached one of the vaqueros would shoot the steer in the head, killing him instantly. As he fell | the “‘cabresta” would drop his own head land bend down his meck and wait pa tiently until the straps were removed. mn" General Bidwell, savs the Oroville ia feet, ——————————— ———— A ———— Enigmatical Poisons. pose only in small doses, but in large quantities is simply rejected by the stomach. Yet a still more mysterious poison is the virus of the tsetse fly, an African insect whose bite is almost in- variably fatal to horses and cows, but has no effect on man nor on mules, asses aod antelopes, Dr. Livingstone on one of his expedi. tions lost forty-five steers in an attempt to cross a tsetse swamp, and describes the ap ce of the dead animals as resembling that of the victims of the worst kind of blood poison, yet the cause of the mischief is not much than o gadfly, and its sting, even when dozens alight on the shoulders of a half-naked native, has not the least le after. effect, except a faint itching, which gene. rally subsides in the course of half an hour.—{8t. Louis Star-Sayings. A Squirrel Adopted by a Cat, Bystie possesses a gray pet squirrel which is being Yaised in a rather curious manner,
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