VOL. VII
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THE PALSIED HEART
Ei Tar. Auriloa OF -LOSING /..:o WItiNING."
My he Lrt beat no:, itfe;t not then."
• Why so melancholy, my dear Su
tan?' said Mr. Atwood, as he drew a
chair, and seated -himself by his wife.
•Surely it 15 not an affliction to have a
daughter well married, especially whew
the house of her husband is scarcely
half a mile from that of her parents?'
'You will acknowledge, George,'
replied Mrs. Atwood, 'that, let a
daughter's prospects be ever so flatter
ing, there is much to touch a mother's
heart, when she resigns her child to
another. It is. in a degree, severing
une of nature's strowrest ties, and it
could not be done without a pang,
even could we fure,ee that happiness
and com'ort w:add nut be diminished.
But on this pint there is always a
The event only can
fearful doubt
prove whether a man will make a good
husband; and even should he do so.
in the common acceptation of the
term, there is still a doubt whether he
and his wife are so matched as to
make each other happy.'
my dear,' said Mr. Atwood,
'for my own part, I feel no misgivings
relative to Helen's happiness, and am
vety sorry you are inclined to anti
cipate trouble. In Mr. Howard, I have
perfect confidence, His character is
unblemished, and hi 4 principles such
as every one must respect and ap
prer.-e. I do not suppose he is per . -
tut, neither is 'Helen; but I think
they truly love each other, and this
will enable them to overlook and ex
cuse each others defects.'
I doubt not. the firmness or recti
tude of his principles,' said Mrs. At
wood; 'but must confess that I have
60111r.`, fears that - his temper may not be
suited to Helen's. Some trilling cir
cumstances here ied me to apprehend
that he mar be self-willed and obsti-
'lute."
Firm, yon mean, my dear,' said
Mr. Atwood, 'and I hope be will be
a te. It «•ill do much t• 1 improve
en; fir you know that want of firm
ness is ouc of the defects of her char-
acte - :
.and besides,' said Mrs. Atwood,
I have thought him sometimes too
grare for a man of five and twenty.
Vulatillry, I should as much dislike, as
you would; but Mr. Howard would
please me a great deal better had he
a little nwre buoyancy and cheerful
ness. I fear he will be stern.'
'Here, too,' replied Mr. Atwood,
' I have thought that a kind Providence
selected the very man for our daugh
ter! His sedateness will temper her
vivacity, and her sometimes to thought
less gaiety.'
'I am sorry you see so many faults
in Helen' replied Mrs. Atwood.
'And is marriage like death,' said
Mr. Atwood, that you forget them
all, as soon as she is separated from
you ? Have we not always seen ihese
defects, and labored to correct them?.
I know her good qualities, too. She
is affectionate, kind, gentle and for
giving; and always willing to confess
a fault, though sometimes apt to re:
peat it. I know, too, that she has a
fund of deep feeling, held under a
somewhat cureless exterior—and that
her temper was cast in natures finest
mould. All this I know, and much
more; and doubt not that Mr. How
ard will see these things as clearly,
and appreciat4. them as highly as I do.
So cheer . up, my dear Susan, and in
stead of spending this wearing time
from you in sombre forebodings, be , ,
grateful to a kind Providence for '
giving her such a husband, and trust
confidingly in his care.'
While the mother's breast was thus
- anxious concerning the future happi
ness of her daughter, Dlr. Howard and
his youthful .bride were as happy as
the dearest friend could wish them.
They had been married but a , week
or "two; yet in so short space of
time appearances indicated that Mr.
Atwood 's prediction was likely to be
verified. - Helen had never been half
so happy in her life before—and nev
er before was she half so sedate.. She
,
T
learned by experiencenlat happiness
of the heart is neithei noisy nor mirth- '
ful; and that it induces seriousness
rather than gayety. True, he Ivas
rather grave for so young a man, and
smiled but seldom; but when he did
smile, it was like a sunbeam, impart
ing life and gladness.. But grave or'
otherwise, he was all ,that she wished
him to be. Her respect. fOr him
.equalled her love; both were entire.
He treated her with dignified tender
ness, that left.her nothing to ask. .
But time knows no indulgence, not
even to the most happy, who would
gladly lay a finger on his flight to
lengthen the golden moments. The
first months of wedded life soon hast
en away ; fleeting months they arc,
and rush by to join the past eternity,
and in their train come the cares, the
duties, the trials, perchance the mis
eri of life. •
The youthful bride commenced her
married life with the determination to
please her husband in everything—
her deportment, apparel, and her
housekeeping. About the first two
she felt no anxiety—that which had
won, would certainly retain him; and
she would be careful not to fall into
thatlpecret'aftegligence which so
often follow44lle niarriage . cerewouy,
.and which is so calculated to produce
coldness if not disgust. Her domestic
arrangements were a more serious
- matter. She was but little more than
eighteen, and though her education in ,
this particular branch had not been
neglected, she yet had little skill in
that department where experience is .
so important. She made many mis
takes, and would have made more, but
ft,r the near neighborhood of her
mother, whom she frequently con
sulted, and whom she found better
than twenty books on domestic econ
omy. But Helen did her best, and
hoped in time that would become easy
which was now so difficult. As be
fore said, she resolved to please her .
111141:1nd in all things, and doubted not'
.for an instant that he woula ue equals .) ,
solicitous to please her. On one point,
she anticipated a difference. Her
parents had so plainly told her of her
faults, and had labored so sedulously
to correct them, that she was conscious
if being far from what she ought to
be! consequently her husband would
I have much to overlook and forgive,
he, on the contrary, was ao correct,
so s perfect, that she would have little
or nothing to excuse. But he loved
her, and sought her for a wife know-
Ling her to be a very imperfect crea
ture, and would not that love lead him
to pardon all errors, the more readily
as they would not be willful l Un
questionably it would.
With these views and feelings and
designs, Helen Howard began her
married life; and the conformed to
her plan, as nearly, perhaps, as action
ever conforms to resolution—practice
)to theory. True, she did not find
herself— -
"ti.ti!iug on a summer's sea, [face."
When noL a breath of wind flies o'er the 'sm . -
' Some of her cares were irksome.;
some of her self denials not a little
painful. She found Mr. Howard ex
ceedingly particular. This however
did nut surprise her, it was what she
anticipated. How could one so per
fect in all things—principles, manners,
taste, fail of being particular? But
then it made it difficult to please him;
and often times she was in doubt
whether the manner of doing it, would
be agreeable to him or not. When
possible she always consulted him on
points where she supposed he would
have a choice—but frequently she was
obliged to act, when to consult him
was out of the question; and somehow
it seemed tojielen that almost' every
thing she did according to her own
judgment or taste, was directly in
opposition to that of her husband.
She had not lived with her husband
many months, before she learned that
by a particular closing of his lips, she
could tell when lie was displeased.
Fur herself, she ‘‘'tis a child in feeling,
Mild in temper; gentle and fascinating
in manner;, and after she had become
aquainted with the peculiarities of
Mr. Howard's displeasure, would
.twine her arms about his neck, ask for
an explanation, confess her fault and
beg forgiveness. An affectionate kiss
from him would dissipate all her
uneasiness, and lead to fish efforts to
please.
Mr. Howard did not always Avait to
have his displeasure or disapprobation
detected. As time rolled on, and the
bride was lost in the wife, lit was very
plain to tell her when he saw aught
amiss; but the same process of recon
ciliation followed, and all was 31:911
again. Though Mr. Howard could
blame ho never praised. - He was of
the opinion that.praiSO is always inju
rious. Many persons .seem to think
that oven the most
.merited counnen•
d a ti o n must induce vanity and pride.
Pity it is that some who have e m.
laced '• this view were not equally.
DEVOTED TO THE PRINCIPLES OF DEMOCRACY, AND .T4s DISSEMINATION OF MORALITY" LITERATURE,. AND NE\i'S
COUDEWQRT, POTTER COUNTY; PA, J 11.07, 21, 1854.
afraid of continual censure, or even of
slander and detraction!
, Let no one think, from the preceding
picture that Helen was an unhappy
wife. She was far from it. No one
could be unhappy who loved and
respected a husband as she loved and
respected Mr. Howard, and - who
doubted not that her affection was
reciprocated . There were occasional
clouds that crossed the landscape, ma
king .the. -returning sunbeams seem
still brighter.
Years . aS well as months glided
away, and when Helen was four and
twenty, she was the mother of a son,.
a. daughter, and, another son. In the
meantime, .she had suffered a severe
affliction. Her mother had been
taken . away by death; but . she lived
'long enough to have her fears allayed
as to her daughter's domestic felicity.
She saw iothin„o- and heard - nothing to .
lead her to doubt that . it was as per
fect as could be experienced in this
imperfect world. Indeed she knew
not that so far as connubial happiness
was concerned, a cloud had ever
passed over her daughter's path. It
was by slow degrees that Helen
learned that she must submit to her
husbandin everything. The spending
of an evening at a neighbor's house—
even the mostAritling matters of taste,
must be as much subjected to his con
trol,
as the most important transaction
'of . life. Helen - ; cheerfully acknowl
edged her husband's supremacy. Her
mother had taught her, and the Bible
taught her that authority belonged to
him ; that it *as her duty, ' and would
be for-her happiness, , to obey him in
all things. Her afiectionate heart
,prompted her to this course; but she .
was a human being; she naturally had
taste and inclinations of he own, and
these were not always, of course, in ,
accordance with those of another.
Sometimes in case of collision, she
could not help feeling that. if she
yielded on all important points, Mr. -
Homiard might occasionally yield in
If.' she argued with a sigh,
'he finds it so hare to
wishes of another sometimes, why can
he not realize how difficult it is for
me to do it always 1' If the half
formed thought arose in her mind that
her husband was serish, she instantly
banished it. 'Oh, ne,' she would say,
'he is not selfish! Men are used to
authority; and are. not aware what it
often costs the subject. I suppose or . i
this point they are much alike.' Per
fect good nature, and- unwillingness
to detract anything from the. perfec
tion with which she had invested Mr.
Howard, led to this conclusion. Had
Helen's own father entered her mind
at that moment, she. must have. ac
knowledged that between some men
there was a striking contrast.
With this, however, • Helen could
have got along very well. She had as
littleobstinancy as any of her species:
and if in that moment of trial her
heart would sometimes rebel, ;the feel
ing was soon gone,,land she yielded
with grace and cheerfulness. . That
which was much harder to bear, was,
.that as Mr. Howard grew older, it
was difficult to appease his displeas
ure and sometimes perhaps.very tri
fling inadvertency, two or three times
before the kiss and reconciliation would
he granted: From her own heart it
flowed spontaneously ; and however
strong Mr Howard's objections Might
be to bestowing praise. on another, lie
never manifested any repugnance to
receiving it himself. Helen loved to
praise her husband, she loved to repeat
to him the praise bestowed by others,
4. greatly increased her happiness.—,
But when her special, and sometimes
laborious - efforts to do what she thought
would give 'Dir. Howard peculiar sat
isfaction, would fail to call forth ono .
word of commendation—one look of
grateful satisfaction—fail even of at
tracting observation, her heart would
almost sink with disappointment, and
to be quite happy, it was indispensi
ble that she should be very forgetful.
But was Mr. Howard the impeach
able being his wife was willing to be
lieve him 'I On the contrary ho was
far from it as well as other well prin
cipled men.' But the never confessed
a fault to human being, and often when
he had given his wife a just cause of
complaint, if . she manifested it—not
by upbraiding, (for of that her nature
was incapable,).but as an affectionate
wife may with propriety express dis
pleasure towardsher husband, he re
sented it in a high Aegree ;' and many
times she with sighs and tears, sued
forgiveness- when he alone was in fault.
She was prone to believe her Self to
blame, and peace. she ,must
,have, on
anyterrns, or be wretched.
The power of pleasing, lor giving
satisfaction, -seems to -be-taken from
us,just.' in proportion as we - diipair
of..exercibing it. Helen was almost
hopeless of securing the approbation
of her husband, and her heart was'de
pret by discouragement. She remit
ted none of her -vans—to please; it
had become a habit of her Mind ; but
She was scarcely conscious that her en
deavors noVO rose less from 'the hope,
of receiving commendation, than from
a desire' to escape . reproof and 'cen
sure.
For the first three years of Helen's
married life, the sun Shine had greatly
preponderated over the clouds; for
the three last, the cloudS had been
gradually gaining the , preponderance
over the sunshine ; and before another
close'd, they gathered over her head,
to be dispersed again, only when the
sun of her life was setting.
In acme way, in which no principle
of right was involved, but where the
opinion or will °flier husband only was
conserned;r Helen had• again "trans
gressed. She twined her arms about
his neck, but he unclasped them, and,
not very roughly !indeed, but - firmly,
put her from Mai; This she could
hardly endure.'
My dear, husband,' she cried, - ' do
not look so coldly, so stearnly.on me 1
Do believe that I never displeased you
without the deepest regret.' Again
she strove to encircle his neck with her
arms, but was again repulsed.
'lf you had not said as' much a
thousand times before,' remarked Mr.
Howard, I might believe yon ; but of
what use is that regret that produces
no amendinent
Helen burst into an agony of tears,
and falling at her husband's feet, clasped
his hands in hers. Do you doubt my
sorrow ?' she cried in a voice choked
with a violence of her emotion. ' 0
do not thus break my heart ! Forget
that I displeased you. now, or ever,
for wigfully I would never do so. Oh,
say that all is forgotten !'
She was' looking,up into his eyes,
but their expression was,as cold and
unfeeling as ever. In truth he was
moved, for he saw the agony- of his
wife's feelings ; but he thought that
perhaps, were he less ready to forgive,
he should have less frequent eccasion to
do so, and he suffered-not a feeling to
relax.
bins +( Y r ~.
momentwhile her heart was throb
bing, and every muscle of her face
was working with anguish—to. catch
the first indication of forgiveness and
reconciliation ; hut nothing of the kind
was there. A change come °vex; her
in a moment. Her muscles ceased to
tremble ; her heart ceased its tumul
tuous throbbing and she calmly arose,
and left the zoom. This was some
thing new ; and for an ihstant Mr.
Howard feard he had gone'to far ; the .
former thought returned---I have made
peace too readily ; more marked dis
pleasure may have a better effect ; and
lie restrained the impulse. There was
a voice within which whispered that
he. had not none quite right ; neverthe
less, he returned to his engagements,
and left Helen to attend to hers. •
When Helen left the parlor, she
went to her chamber. She felt per
fectly calm and indifferent. For seven
years,' thought she,.'it has been i almost
my sole study to please him; ilfid vihat
is. my reward !' She sat don and
mused. Her entire intellectual being
seeme.d , resolved into memory, and her
whole married life rushed in review
before her. She saw her own uniform
desire to secure his approbation, and
to his pleasure—and Mr. Howard's
exacting his fault-finding his unforgiv
ing spirit. 'lt is too true,' thought she
—' he is selfish, arbitrary, and impla
cable !' At the close of this train of
thought, 'Helen's own feelings alarmed
.leer. Her heart was too wiiet. ' She
longed to have it gush forth, as in time
past, in-tenderness towards her hus
band ; but it would not. It was rather
feeling than thought that led her :to
repeat—' He is selfish, arbitrary, and
implacacable and firmly clasp
ing her hands together she exclaimed,
in deep bitterness of spirit—' I shall
never love him more.'
Never befOre had Mr. Howard been
so anxious for the tea hour as on this
afternoon ; .and scarcely in his life bad
two -hours stretched themselves to
such an interminable length. He could
with difficulty, fix.his mind on its tip- .
propriate business. An undefined
feeling of self reproach and appre
hension haunted him. But, thought
•he; she will fly to m'y arms the mo
ment I enter the housi, and then
will assure her that all is forgotten.
Long as time seemed, sloWly as it
dragged itself along he would not go
to .his house until the usual hour; .to
have. done otherwise, wouldbave been
too great a sacrifice of his dignity ; but
when the bell chimed the signal - ,for
him to leave. his office, rapid:steps.
he hastened homeward. - The.tea s table,
• when he entered the : eating room, Was
spread, but
. -gelen was not there.—
Very shortly; boWever, she appeared,
and only with a calm word of -courte
sy—for :Helen had always'-been cone
-ten4s .even..to bgr husbapti-41eatea
:herself .at .the' table. Zr; lioi.vrAWl
-took his :seat,. hut mechanically : for
to partake Of the triening. meal was. a
EBE
matter that had not entered his mind.
• ;•Hia eyes glanced upon Helen's face
froth time to time to discover, ir pos
sible, what this new manner meant.
That face he had hitherto been, able to
read as easy as a printed page ; but
now he vas completely at fault, Could
he have discovered any indication of
suppressed feelings,—the Slightest
quivering of the hp ; could he have
diecovered any mark of anger in any
feature, he would have felt relieved ;
or could he have perceived any tremor
or huskiness in voice, it would have
quieted, in some degree, his feelings ;
but, all these signs of emotion were
wanting. She looked, indeed, very
serious, but neither displeased nor
sorrowful,, and her voice, though some
what lower than usual, was perfectly
clear and mild, and 'distinct, as she
performed the usual services of the
tea-table, or briefly answered any tri
fling question he proposed to her. Mr.
Howard rather lingered at the table,
though he knew neither what he ate
nor drank ; but as Helen remained as
unaltered as a marble statute, he at
length rose abruptly and retired. His
feelings were compounded of wonder,
anxiety, apprehension—and a kind of
displeasure, of which it had been .dif
ficult to decide whether himself or
Helen were the-object..
The next day, and the next, and the
next, were still -the same, and Mr.
Howards,anxiety began to settle-into
a feeling of vexation and irritability.
.' She may remain ptubborn as long as
she pleases,' thought he: It is not the
husband's place to be in subserviency
to the wife ; and if she thinks in this
way to soften my feelings or under
mine my authority she will find her
mistake. If she wishes the harmony
of other days restored, she must yield.'
For several proceeding days, Mr. How
ard's feelings had been so harrassed
that he thought not of finding fault with
anything ; but now he was not sorry
when an occasion of censure occurred:
Perhaps it would effect that which he
so ardentlydesired should be acconi
i.E...l..a. urstbrolt r1;0311t0 , 41" . RIO
from dignityon his part. In the usu
al
manner he. expressed his-disappro
bation. Helen clmly replied that she
wr.s very sorry, and would be very
careful that the same error should not
again be committed. Mr. Howard was
thunderstruck by her calm indifference.
He would much . rather see a tempest
of feeling, violent in proportion to the
unnatural tranquility that had so long
reigned. Dignity and- anxiety had a,
sharp but momentary conflict, and the'
latter so far gained the victory, as led
him to say, you have not appeared as,.
'usual for some days dear Helen; are
you not well ?'
' I am very well, thank you ;' she
replied with the same unmoved tones
'• and manner as before, scarce raising'
her eyes from the work in • which she
was engaged.
'At least,' continued Mr. Howard,
with suppressed emotion, you are not
as cheerful a's I like to See you.'
Helen continued to -ply her needle
with all diligence, and remained silent.
Mr. Howard watched her for some
time with deep . solicitude, and then
suddenly left the parlor.
And few more days• spent just like
the preceeding one led Mr. Howard
to resolve on leaving home for a week
- or two. Hitherto his' unavoidable
journeys had been seasons of great tri
al to Helen. As soon as he would be
gone, tkie hours were litterly counted,
until his return might be expected ; but
now she heard him propose to leave
home for a number of days, with as
much tranquility as if. lie had proposed
to take an airing. .With her usual
Care she saw esiery thing-was properly
prepared •for his journey—but there;
were no tears—no entreaties that he
Would use all possible dipatchno
,Parting kiss which assured him that
'her whole heart, and soul went with
him. He departed—and in four days
was at home. again. He was on the
road during the whole period of his
. absence. Indeed his feelings were
such, that when he arrived at his own
house, he was really indisposed. Hel
en met him with all due courtesy ; ex
pressed her satisfaction that he had
returned Without accident ; and re
gretted his impaired health just as she
would have done, had it been a com
mon acquaintance under similar cir
cumstances. She neglected . no duty,
however, but nursed him With untiring
assiduity ; though with no mere um
derness \ than her benevelence would
have led her to manifest to a sick
stranger.
'How' much longer is this to last,
_Helen,' said Mr. _Howard one day,
after she had stood for some
silently bathing his. temples, but care
fully averting 'her eyeS from his. He
c la spe d w e r h
and in his as he spoke.
- Without a ,Word in reply, she dison
,gaged_her.hand, and. calmly Nal ke.a.to
a ..clopet zo.replacp ihnNiali the c4mtepta
'of which slap had heen . using'.
Hirwaid` closed - his - eyes, and
' P . ' (I
leaned.. his head on. the back Kis
chair; with a suppressed sigh. He
neither knew what to do or think.
The person who moved about - .him,
who conversed with him, end attended
so •carefully to all his wants, seemed
entirely another being than his own
Helen. Forinerly she had been just
like an affectionate, confiding, depend
ent child ; every joy and every sorrow
was poured into hir ear ; her whole
soul was laid hare before him. At
once she had become the dignified,
reserved, self-po:ssessed woman. She
said nothing either of whet pleasedor
what troubled her.
She expressed neither hopes nor
wishes. She conversed on any topic
he introduced, with freedom, if/Am
p/sea' were out of the question, but
here she remained impenetrably silent.
Her mind seemed open to his inspec
tion; her heart was hermetically scaled.
Week followed . week, and month
lagged alter month, without producing
any change; but use did not render
the new " state of things any more tol
erable to Mr. Howard. His conscience
told him the wor`k was all his own-.
His happiness was destroyed for
thorigh to the world: his pride cf char
acter made him appear much the same
as ever, he was m truth :retched.
And he thought that Helen must be
wretched too ; for though she uttered no
Word of complaint—expressed neither
regret nor sorrow, he knew that it
must have been a stunning blow, which
could have produced so perfect a
transformation.
But was Helen's happiness de
stroyed 1 It was as rational to ask
Whether the earth would be light and
cheerful, if the sun were blotted from
the heavens! Love. is. the sun of
every society; and with concentrated
beams, it! . is the sun of domestic life.
Without it, all is dark, and cold, and
cheerless.. Intellect may flash and
blaze, and dazzle—but if the heart
remain unmoved, it is like the Aurora
Borealis of the frigid zone—illunti•
paling desolation only. Helen's heart,
vn for a* her husband was concerned.
was left blank. Frequently, and with
all her power did she strive to recall
her former feelings towards him. - She
knew it was her duly to love him;
lice conscience- condemned her for her
apathy;. again and again would she
enumerate the excellencies of his
character, and call back the tender
nesi of former . years—but her efforts
were as useless as if she had striven
to soften adamant. The words, .ho is
selfish, arbitrary, and 'implacable,'
seemed stereotyped on her very soul,
and were first and last to present
themselves, whenever she thought on
the subject.
In proportion. tte Helen's atrectioas ceased
to dictate her actions towards Mr. IlowaN,
was hor - mi4l active in studying duty. She
was too well principled—had too mach self
respect—and too great a regard to the pro.
prieties of life, to do aught unbecoining to
her position; or to leave undone that.which
could reasonably be demanded of her. Hgr
husband's welfare- and respectability, she on=
deavered to promote to the uttnost of her
power—and his happiness, so far as it could
be done with her present feelings; hnt this
could not be done 'by expressing teuderness
and a:Tee:ion which she did not feel; it was
contrary to her very nature.
Helen had no confidant. Could she not
disc:ose her heart to him to whom she wits
bound by the nearest of all ties, she would
d sc'.osc it to none other. - Perhaps, had her
mother been living, the maternal bosom might
have been the receptacle of her trials; but as
death had renioved this sympathising friend,
no other should be a substitute. Not even
before he two oldest children.
_did she ever
utter a word that would betray her_seorlt
uneasiness; but in the unheeding- ear of her
youngest boy, as she pressed, him to her
heart ; and scalding were - the tears she shed
upon his head, called forth by her . blasted
hopes. Except for her children's sake, life
had no charms for her. To a bet:twito
heart, what can be either attractive or inter.
esting ! Yet Helen dearly loved her childreU.
'and on their account life was valuable.- The
him= heart that has anything to love, and
that is loved in return, cannot be utterly and
recuodilessly desolate and wretched.
Had Mr. Howard beep what he.had now
become, one short year before, he had been
among the happiest ochusbands, and Helen
ho most belovid of wives Never, since the
firm week of their union, had he been tie
attentive—so studious to please her; end
never at any period, so ingenious in devising
means. to (ouch her heart—not even in the
days of his youth. His fault finding, too, Was
no.aly or qui:e gone, for when with Helen.
he was too much engossedby other cares, to
allow of hii noticing things of trifling mo
ment. But, alas for himsolf—alasfor her too,
the change came too . late! it was 'like pardon
after execution.'
- Had Helen's IlepoytimAnt been different
from what it was, her husbands heart might
not have been alienated finial her. Formerly
he had looked upon her ad ie/A th;t nepd.ed
.a guide; a asesteia lovely, endeazinechild,
it is triminit tt child it'll. .Ha I:Low - 16%w he;
a 14- "POW; .offioigtt - wotolut, equal to the
[To be boittisteed.)
Il
NO: 10.