~? ■■ < : r ... ~' ... ■ ; ;-, L ’ >■ rf, _ - " i . Vi " "rr ~' VQL. XLTIfI. Snlclltgtiutt Journal. LANCASTER PENN’A. •. 1 M .•. ' DECEMBER #B, 184 V. / Tlie Germans of Peimsylvauttla. ; So deeply is the State of Pennsylvania indebted i for her prosperity to the Gebmi* part of her citi. 1 . zens/that we feel that an article devoted to them wilt, not be out of place in Ous meredian, where ■ they comprise nearly the entire population. The ■German character once employed the pen of the ■ . elegant and enlightened Tacitus, one of ;the first historians ofantiquity. They evidently inherit all the virtues ascribed by this author to their ancestors, with- none of their vices, which Christianity has banished from among them* These ancestors mi- , .-grated chiefly from the Palatinate, from Alsace Swabia, Saxony, and Switzerland, with an admix, tiire of .natives of every principality and dukedom in Germany! When we reflect at this day, that the .. stock ; of most of these bold, pioneers in the set tlement of Pennsylvania consisted only of a few pieces, of gold or silver coin, a chest of clothing, a Bible, and a Psalter, and that now their descendants _ own the' most immense possessions, we are forcibly Btrnck with,the miraculous changes wrought in the progress of Time by an Overruling and Divine Hand. If, it were possible to determine theTelativc proportion's of these sums, the contrast would form such a monument of Human Ixhustut and Eco.v. . omt as has seldom been witnessed in any age or country. The principal part of the Germans of Pennsyl vania are Farmehs—hardy and industrious tillers' of the soil—that most noble of all the occupations which can engage the attention of man. More skilful cultivators of the earth, too,' we hazard nothing in • saying, can be found nowhere on the face of die globe. The Germans set a great value upon patrimonial property. principle in human nature* 1 prevents much folly in- young people. It moreover leads to lasting, and extensive advantages in the,improvement of a farm; for what induce ' ment, can be stronger in a parent to plant an or chard, to preserve forest trees, or to build a com. modious and durable house, than the idea, that they will be possessed by a succession of generations } who shall inherit his blood and name. What strikes a. traveller through our German counties most forcibly, is their mammoth barns, called in their own language Srhiveilzer~Scheucr. — Indeed, it is their invariable custom, in settling a hew tract of land,/?rrt to provide large and suitable . accommodations for their horses and cattle, before they expend much money in building a house for themselves. No feature in their character speaks so loudly in behalf of their Humanity, as this . willingness to ' suffer discomfort themselves, rather than impose it on the dumb and uncomplaining beast But from this let it riot be inferred, that their dwellings are deficient in ithe comforts of life. The reverse is true. No class, so emphatically as they, live u on the fat of the land*’—and none boasts of so many and -such substantial domestic enjoy ments. Another fact,' which never faib to rivet the at. tention of a stranger, is the extraordinary size and strength of their horses. A German horse is known in every part of the State. He seems to ‘‘feel with Iris lord” the pleasure and the pride of good and bountiful living. It is a well-established fact that-the German horses of Pennsylvania perform double the amount of labor of the New England or Southern breed, from the fact that they are more plentifully' fed. For the same reason their cows yield double the quantity of milk, and of a qualily vastly superior. In a word, a. German farm may be distinguish ed from the farms of citizens, by the superior size of their barn^—the plain but com pact construction of their dwellings—the height of their enclosures—the extent of their orchards—the fertility of their fields—the luxuriance of. their meadows—the giant strength of their cattle—and fcy & general appearance of plenty and prosperity in all-.th&t belongs to them. * The favorable influence of agriculture, as con- 1 ductedby the Germans in extending human hap- is manifested by the joy they- express upon the birth of a'child. No dread of poverty, nor dis trust of Providence from an increasing family, de - presses the spirits of these industrious and frugal peo ple. Upon the birth of a son, they exult in the gift of a ploughman ora wagoner; and upon the birth of a daughter, they rejoice in -the addition of a spinster or milk-maid, to their family. Happy state_of human society! What blessings can civi lisation confer, that can atone for the extinction of the ancient and patriarchal pleasure of raising up a numerous andhealthy family of children, to la "bor for their parents, for themselves and for their country ; and finally to partake of the knowledge and happiness which are annexed to existence ! The joy of parents upon the birtn of a child, is the grateful echo of creating goodness.'May the moun tains of Pennsylvania be forever vocal with songs of joy' upon these occasions!. They are the infallible signs of innocence, industry, wealth and happiness in the State, l The. German Mechanic, too, is a most useful and enterprising citizen, possessing all the traitsof character in common with the Farmer. His first ambition, on starting into life, is to become a Free holder, so as not to live in a rented house—and the highest temporal delight he can enjoy springs from his ability to declare: “This house is my own.” — Admirable quality that, which renders him afraid of Debt,, that prolific source of Misery, and Want, and Crime 1 But the genius of the Germans of Pennsylvania is not confined to Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts. Many of them have acquired great wealth by foreign and domestic commerce. But another fact "which speaks louder in their praise, than any other, is this, that they are partic ularly attentlveto the religious education Of thelf children, uni to the establishment and support of the Christian Religion, For this purpose they ' make the erection of a sehoobhouse and a place of worship the first ejects of their care, Hut they do not stop here, They take great pains to pro, dues In their offspring, net only Imbilt of labor, hat ■„ a lew of it, In this they submit to the Irreverei hie sentence pronounced upon man, In such a mam ner as to convert the wrath of Heaven Into private : and public happiness, “51b/to (lihl oud ig'lmt ieer*" are the first lessons they teach to thelrShih ' j i’i\>] tin? limani i’ • ui fc 01 'ir.ivitoi! pent* \ialuolu* and ustt'sr >:i ;_dy uli.cW! to die ui pur Jut* ji.- L* . -Mut hirg» :y to the "revv.iiU‘, they consiirutc t]ie w ..*atul Kiiii’v ' u»' A- M;aiy o'l*thfemhaveU-cc:- 10 ;V tlit v.-i<r>. <: o’ govevmneiit, and tVi'-v ha lunu.shed [£.► iomft ot- out tx. -'S ; di.-»tin£ vjpwv*' *>v w c . <■ haW served in the highest Executive Sod legisja tive offices. We will be content with reference to a'sirigle illustrious example, die revered SIMON SNYDER, whose name has become' the very syn onme of staling sense, ■ unflinching-; honesty, and. far-seeing sagacity—and whose administration of the Chief-Magistracy of the State, for a 'period of nine ’ years, is referred to,-at the present .day, by men of tzJl parties, as a - very model : of good gov ernment. •* The Germans of Pennsylvania, to their credit be it spoken, never besiege the Government for favors iri kbeir domestic pursuits. They are never known to |crowd the legislative halls, clamorous for special privileges, and rely for wealth and prosperity, not on- acts of assembly, but on their own daily toil and industry. They are, perhaps, the only class of people [who "practically regard government, its ob jects, and its functions,.in tfeysir true light.' All thkt they desire from Government is to be let alone- : As neighbors, they are extremely kind and friendly. They frequently assist each other by loans of money for a short .time, without interest.. But, to secure their confidence, it is necessary to be punctual, as they never lend money a second time to one who has once violated his obligation. We have heard it remarked, that during the War of Indcpendcnce there were very few* instances of any of them discharging a bond, or a debt, in depre ciated’ paper money! These are some of the traits of character which have raised the Germans of Pennsylvania to a degree of moral and political elevation surpassed by no other race of men in the world. From this proud 'spec tacle wc may learn to prize knowledge and industry in Agriculture, coupled with a due observance of Christian duty, as the b&ais both of domestic happi ness and national prosperity. The Eloquence of Bathos^ .The following extract of a speech delivered in the Massachusetts House of Representatives, by a Mr. Lixcolx, whig member from Hingham, on a resolution to pass a vote of thanks [to the brave volunteers in Mexico, surpasses all the specimens of eloquence, ancient or modern, that have ever come to our notice: * -We,doubt whether the annals of Greece or Rome, to ihay nothing of the Btump oratory yrf our own country, can furnish a parallel to the outpourings of Mr. Lincoln. - As the speech was written out by the author, and published in the whig newspaper of his own town, it may be relied upon as genuine. i 1 Mr. Lincoln rose and said: ' Sir, I have heard that spoken aloud,, and that vote declared in this Hall of the Representatives of the People of this Commonwealth which I cannot listen to in silence. 1 have no disposition, any more than any other man in this House, to seek occasion to pass votes of thanks to men of war, more than to others, who have' done well, ami more titan well, what law and order required them to do. Neither have I any disposition to avoid any duty devolving upon me as a member of this House. I never should have travelled out of what I consider my strict line of duty to be, to have introduced any such Resolves as are upon your table. The gentleman from Groton must answer for that if there is any answer required. If the wise judgment—the undazzled and unawed ; . understanding—the Conscience based Reason of Massachusetts are to be drowned in a chaos of riotous feeling? and tumultuous passion,, and, ■ her former mastersjand pilots are to sleep the slumber of death, and,' must be drawn and sides must be taken, I take sides against her tingling nerves —her spleeny btomach—her Phrenological organ of Vanity, and; in justice to men I known and re spect,l must add her sympathising, suffering breast bleeding', perhaps, for herself, bleeding, perhaps; for others, and, I go for her quiet, orderly, peace, law and justice loving "Phrenological organ of Con scientiousness, and, I go for her Mighty Heart,, bearing for home and fireside, for mother and sister, for wife' and for Constitution and Country, and, I go also for the boiling red-hot blood of her right arm when it strikes for the past' —for the Present and for Future Protection. Still further, if the vote of yesterday should be rescinded and the question upon the passage of those resolves should come fairly before the House upon their passage, and it is crowded and pressed with determined, settled purpose, and with'force to endanger,- so that men will consider it their duty to defend what they liold dear and necessary for pro tection, and to strike for safety, to those whom in manliness, they are bound to defend,, there will be fiercer battles/ought in this Hall, than were fought in Mexico. ” " * And, if Massachusetts’ firm ’ judgment—solid understanding—friendly heart -of sympathy *and God-based reason are cloven down, in this disas trous bittle-field, and when .the heat and dust of the conflict are over, glittering, polished beams of night reflected from the Milky Way of Heaven, and from the luminous fogs of sea-breeding storms and the smoke of rose-wood shavings kindled over the ashes of Martin Luther, borne by a cold, isolated breeze of sorrow over a cheerless sea, are suffered, with their hazy mists to dim the Pilgrim and Patriot-burnished brightness of the. Coat of Arms of Massachusetts, the wails of woe and lamentation which will hereafter arise from her cities, from the villages clustering 1 around her sea girt rocks to the remotest hamlet on her barrier hills, will drown all sympathy for suffering,and all cries ,o£ agony from the battle-fields of Mexico and from -the counfry of the Aztecs. A correspondent of the Germantown, Telegraph has favored that paper with the following charac teristic anecdote of the renowned orator of Roanoke: Randolph, disgusted at not being able to,havehis own way at Washington, determined to visit “the serfs-and slaves of Europe”—-his- own expression. But-he found that even there it was not possible, on all occasions to have his own way} During. this vol untary exile he visited London of course, where he became acquainted with Lord D», a noted son of the old Dominion, who moved in the first classes in Europe. His Lordship invited Mr. R. to breakfast with him; the-invitation was accepted; and taking it for granted that the customs.of London were the same as in Virginia, or ought to fit, he knocked at> the door of,his. lordship’s residence, at,what he thought a proper 1 hour for breakfast. After some delay,-the door-Was opened by the porter, who ex hibited all the signs of having been aroused'from a sound sleep. He inquired Mr. R’s business. ~ “ I am come to breakfast with his Lordship.” The man in livery Btared at him with unreigned astonishment, as he replied : 1 “His Lordship has not been two hours in bed; but he told me before retiring, that he expected i a gentleman to breakfast —the usual hour 1 ts 2 Randolph went,away in disgust. Next day Lord. D,; calletLon his friend to apologise for the mistake that had occurred. On his announcement by the servant, he heard a loud squeaking voice etclalm i “ fell his d*“d Lordship Lam not at homa<”^v During our residence. itt Washington, we hktl related to us many laughable' anecdotes of mW* iioi,en, whieh we dp not reeelleet to have seen k print. One of the best Is thefollowing i \ On one occasion there were present at his tabfe, eiilefilustke Marsiui.& andieurfAwei of Oar. flline. The topic! of conversation was' the “ old dine of Virginia gentlemen," whieh brought many illustrious names on the tapis. lUnoehm preset ved a long silence, but finally defined bis position ■thus? said hrt. attytt’rtf thfr 1 Ibiit’ bf uociejU. Vi*. ! gentlemen barely /. .*•* survive." };• Th^rc i ’ , -|*oiirti.. t , .A the Cbtef-Julitir ‘sit* ivne. 1 ' :j--TUtr»*." pointing V'.i, U»r : \ imo. >sr. M A Vug ,uiise J.cW UH' Uiu. ;SOt SO, howtn ■ -Am riuf-diilhe finally, t- ‘.ming his attenua te! iVrlffton a: uh ft.ortiu Uack:\ • :;>hn. • who + ifi* thWii Vi ' ' !,<■ rr<T•'Ti-'-f'CJJ;- 'ir ' -,t « '*+'"•** J* ■> !If * *' --' ‘-3* ,tT ' 1 : - yjZ^:- 1 ' CITY Randolph-iana. •uy.l, ever. on' mcanwhilf mUliSl to conclude granted i\-.M i. j . ''~C- t' '*_*•;'-**. : s i~«. *;& tv.' J “ THAT COUNTRY IS THE MOST HEtOSPEROUS, RTItiERE LABOR COMMANDS THE GREATEBT REWARD.”— BuCHAKAIf. OF LANCASTER, Mr. Budianan on tlie War, "Yfe take pleasure in laying before our .readers the admirable letter sent by Hon. James Bcchaxax to the great war meeting held on the l>Qth instant in Philadelphia. It is marked by all the .clearness and cogency which distinguish the .productions of this able Statesman, and places the history of the war in -so striking a-light that, no unbiased reader can fail, we think,' to be convinced by its statements. The letter was received with raptu rous applause by the meeting; and .will doubtless be greeted with equal commendation by our read-, ers: . ..’ !; ‘ . WASHizroTorr, Dec. 17, 1847. - Gfent&mrrt;-—I have been honored by the receipt of your.kind invitation,.“in behalf of the Commit-: tee of Arrangements of the Democracy of the. City and County,of Philadelphia,” to attend “at their mass , meeting, to be held at the Museuin : oh Satur day next, in.support of the policy of die country, and course of the National Administration' in die vigorous , prosecution to an honorable peace, of the present war with Mexico.” I deeply regret that my pressing public duties here, especially since the indisposition of the Secre-: tary of the Treasury, render it impossible that I should be present at your meeting. Indeed, I might add, that I have been compelled of late almost en tirely to forego the privilege of corresponding with my most valued private friends. My answer to your kind ihvitation must therefore be compara tively brief. , The facta already before the world conclusively prove, that the war with Mexico, in which our country has been involved, was forced upon us after \vc had exhausted every honorable expedient to preserve peace. If any corroboration of these facts had been wanting it would be supplied by the let ter of Ex-president Herrera, dated on the 2 sth of Au gust last, in answer to a note from the Mexican Minister of-Foreign Affairs, offering him, by'djftc tion of Gen. Santa Anna, the a Commissioner to treat for peace, with the Com missioner of the United States. In this answer, Gen. Herrera distinctly declares, that his Govern ment had been subverted by Geh. Paredes, solely because he had consented 'to receive our Minister, Mr. Slidell. “For no other act, (to use Gen. Her rera's own expressive language,)' than showing that there would be no obstacle to his [Mr. Sli dell's] presenting himself, and having his proposi tions heard, irly administration was calumniated in the most atrocious mariner—for this act alone,- the revolution which deplaced me from , the command was set on foot.” Mexico had for many years endured the very worst Government, on the face of the earth. Un der the name of a Republic, it was in fact an ever changing despotism; but without either the'dispo sition 6r the power to protect the rights of peace able and well disposed citizens. One military usurper arose after another in rapid succession, and these were alternately elevated and deposed by an army consisting of nearly as many officers as privates, which disposed of the Supreme ; power as boldly .and unscrupulously as did the : Pretorian Guards of the Empire of Ancient Rome. The passions of this army had been artfully in flamed against the United States. They clamored for war against our country, and this not merely on account of the territory between the Rio Grande and the Nueces, but for the whole of the sovereign State of Texas, up to the Sabine. - No sooner was it known that the Mexican Gov ernment had agreed to receive our Minister, Air. Slideli r ,who was empowered to adjust all existing difficulties, than Gen. Paredes, with his whole ar my stationed at San Luis de Potosi; “pronounced”- against Gen. Herrera. Paredes marched in tri umph to the Capital, expelled Herrera from the Presidency, and usurped the Supreme power.— From this moment, war with the United States be . came inevitable. Indeed, to wage and prosecute such a war was the very condition on which Paredes had succeeded in usurping the Government of his country. - Heaven has smiled upon the just cause; and the character of our country has been illustrated by a rapid succession of brilliant and astonishing -victo ries. The exploits of our army have elevated our National character, and shed a lustre upon r our name throughout the civilized world. In achiev ing these victories, the blood of many of our- best and most patriotic citizens has been shed in the cause of their country. • ’ In justice to their memory we can never retire with honor from the fields where they have fallen, without indemnity for the past, and security for the future.. If we'shoiild do this, then their Wood will have been shed in vain. To withdraw otir troops at the present moment, would be to convert the glory which' we have ac quired iri a just and necessary waf, into .National disgrace and dishonor. The .war has not been prosecuted for conquest. A.t every stage of- its progress, we have been Wil ling to conclude a just and honorable peace. Indeed, we can never wage a war for conquest,—in the popularsense ofthat.term. Our free institutions for bid that we should subject nations to our arbitrary sway. If they come within our power, we-must bestow upon them the same blessings of liberty and law, which we ourselves enjoy. Should they be annexed to the Union,- as in the case of Texas, they must* participate in the freest and best Gov ernment upon earth—on equal terms with ourselves. The Capital of Mexico is now the Head-Quarters of our conquering army, and yet such is the genius of our free institutions, that for the first, time its peaceful and well-disposed citizens * enjoy security in.their private rights, and the. advantage of a just and firm Government. .’From all that can be learned, they appreciate our protection at its prop er value, and dread no tiring so much as the with drawal of our army. They know, this would be. the signal for renewed and fierce dissensions among their military leaders, in which the Mexican peo ple would become the victims. In -this'wretched condition of affairs, justice to them and to ourselves may require that -we should protect them "in estab lishing upon ar.permanent a Republican Gov ernment—able and willing to conclude, and main tain an equitable Treaty of Peace with the United- States. After every effort to obtain such a Treaty .should finally fail in accomplishing the object, and should the military factions in Mexico- stiU persist in. waging upon us a fruitless war, then we must fulfil the destiny which Providence may have in store for both countries. * In any event, we owe it to the glories of the past, to frie duties of the' present, and the hopes of the fpfrire f never to falter in the -rigorous prosecution of this war, until we shall have secured'a just, and honorable peace. The people of the United ;States will act upon this ’ determination, as surely* asrthat Indomitable perseverance in a righteous causeriSa characteristic of our race. -> Yours, very resectfully, • JAMES BUCHANAN. To J. C: Vandyke, A. Miller, J. F. Bellsterling, G. G. Westcott. , The Divine Philosophy op Misfortunes,— What a cold, cast-iron, selfish world this would be, if flesh and blood were heir to no misfortunes! if we had not th% poor with us always! if there were none to help, to pity, to love! if there were ho perils by flood, fire, and field! ho pestilence. that walked in darkness, nbr destroyer that wasteth at noon day? Were it not for these calamities and misfortunes incident to us ail. Individually and cob leetlvely, the great heart of humanity would stag, tiate like the atmosphere without eleetrleity, or a lake or fresh water, without Inlet, outlet, and mtk tlon. The hescqualltles of human nature would -never see the light, sympathy would never expand heyend self, and society would become jene vast,' arid,: dewless expanse of selfishness, Writ* it or thV Hrar great can. prehenslve tmttofiuen in titters of llvfng.ll|ht on every orr-n- i.lsTrjry,' jt- lTuniui, ll&pphn.-bp hiisn.r. . vilml lY^lom; free dom, ijuiin but Unu. ,V) rl uf, n tg bur kn.bu ledgr'; and neither nmlc-m,’ - r virnu-, tor kNi/aUd to ,\ lm*a any rigor or initnoj ' hope. *pt lu the princi ple'! of the Christian nmh, arid 1 ffa» sanctions of ihe Christian religion IW t* Christian* mu.st ccuiw.s : it.be.uk*. the j 'olive acd. the vin&—which, sr-.b« t the n»o?c a*nd l best froit'firot like the and . - elm. which.| •dutU make noise in .the world TUESDAY Select WEEP NOT FOR; HER. ' BY BEV. O. W..BEVHUJSE. . Weep not for her! Her span was like the sky,. -i Whose thousand stars slunebeautiful and bright: Like flo were, that know not what.it is itodie j Like long-linked *shadeless months of polar light; Like music floating o’er a wavele'ss like, 1 ' While echo answers from the flowery brake : Weep not for her! , Weep not for her! She died in early youth, - Ere hope had. lost its rich romantic hues; When human seemed the homes of truth, • • And earth still gleamed with] beauty’s radiant dews. \ . * Her summer prime waned not to days that freeze; Her wine'of life was run not to the lees: Weep not £or*her'! Weep not for her! By fleet or alow decay, It never grieved herbosom’a core to' mark The playmates of her.childhood,wear away, Her prospects -wither, or her hopes £row dark; Translated by her God; with spirit shriven, [ven. She passed, as ’twere in smiles, from earth to hea- Weep not-for her! Weep not for her!. It was not her’s to feel The miseries that corrode amassing years, ’Gainst dreams of baflled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down age’s vale of tears, As whirl the wither’d leaves from friendship’s tree, And on earth’s wintry world alone to be: 1 Weep not for her! Weep not for her! She is an angel now, And treads th‘e sapphire doors of paradise; All darkness wiped from her refulgent brow, . Sin, sorrow, suffering, banished from her eyes; Victorious over death, to her appear The vista’d joys of heaven’s eternal year: Weep not for her!'| Weep not for her! Her memory is the shrine Of pleasant thoughts, soft as the scent offlowers, Calm*as on windless eve the sun’s decline, Sweet as the song, of birds among the bowers, Rich as the rainbow, with its hues of light, Pure as the moonshine of an autumn’s night: Weep not for her! .. Weep not for her! There is no cause for wo; But rather nerve the.spirit, that .it walk Unshrinking o’er the thorny paths bolow, . And from earth’s low defilements keep thee back So, when a few fleet severing years have flown, She’ll meet thee at heaven’s gate, and lead thee on! Weep not for her !J “NOW OR NEVER.” Now or never! now or never! Let the maxim ne’er depart, ’Tis the watchword that forever Should inspire each manly heart; For, ifjustice must be rendered, On the wrong that’s done to thee, That no malice be engendered, “ Now or never!” let it be.- Now or never! why to-morrow, If the deed be good to-day? There may an age of sorrow In one hour that’s thrown away It is better to be doing, For the future who may see? And delay may lead to ruin— ft Now or never!” let it be. Now or never! now or never! When grim poverty appears, Do the best of your endeavor . To assuage the mourner’s tears ; For a time may come, thy measures May be meted out to thee, Would ye give from out your treasures? “ Now or never!” let it be. A MITE FOR THE POOR. Think of the wretched room, Of the embers burning low— Think of the scaiity garb, Of the child of want and woe. Ye whose bright cup of! life With wealth is running o'er, Think of your brother man, . Relieve him from your storfe. If the widow’s humble smile Received the Saviour’s praise, Shall not your gifts be ble3t In these our latter days 1 Aye! every deed of love ! Is a bright and sparkling gem, To be-wreathed by angel hands In our heavenly diadem.. SONG FOR YOUNG LADIES. And do you really want, mamma, To know my lover’s name 7 It is too bad of. you* mamma, Indeed it’s quite a shame. His name begins with W, The second letter’s A; The next to that is L, mamma, And then, mamma, comes K. And after K comes E, mamma, There is yet one letter; well, Letter the last is R, mamma, That’s all I have to tell. A Scriptural View or Soldiers.-— lt is ex tremely remarkable, and well worthy of our atten tion, that among all the various characters we meet with in the New Testament, there are few repre- Bented_ in a more amiable' light, or spoken of in stronger terms of approbation, than' those of cer tain military men. it wasof a centurion, a mili tary officer, whose servant l was cured of palsy by the author of our religion, that he said, I have not found so great faith; no, not in Israel. It was another centurion, who, at our Saviour’s -crucifix- • ionj.ga.ve -that voluntary* honest, and unprejudiced 1 testimony in his favor: Truly, this was the son of God ; . ‘ It was a centurion twho generously preserv ed the life of StiJP a hl* when a proposition was made to. destroy him after his Bhipwreck on the Island of Melita. It was a centurion to whom St. Peter was sent by the express appointment of God, to make him the first convert among the Gentiles) a disUactlon of. which he seemed in eve* ry respect worthy, belugas we are told, a just and devout man, one that feared God with all his house, that gaye mueh alms to the people, and prayed to God always. ' , When we see men, bred .up in arms, repeatedly, spoken of in Serlpture ; in s'ueh terms of epmmeh datlen as these, we are authorised to eonetade thati the profession they are engaged in, is Hot, 1 as some mistaken Shristians profess to think, an unlawfhl ene< ©ri'tho contrary, U seems to he studiously plated by ,the saered writers in a fevejable and an honorable light* and in this light it always has’ been, ami always ought to.be eensidered. lie who V.‘H r Uk*-B • occupation ■: «?nt |nU’ ;i:id yr«M ila- . *, for the purpose of si. and prot- Uifl country, ia a »-• valuable arid ion* j pQoU },: ‘’.member of Bocii*t| • tnd if ho mndricu j himaei; with valor, fidelity', nd humanity., and j amidst horrors of war I c .tivalus the gentle j maimers tftpeare, arid tbejv..mes of a holy life, ; lift most - I'&y deserves,umi assuredly will receive.! admiration. 1 and- fhe-' applanse- oT I hi- -jriteful cV-t:,Li >» and, ;W,iat 1* of still .greats, j imp™ 1..-! --orohatlj.iiU/' >u« dece; ER m The Thrilling Sketch. BTipßSfi. She was'a beautiful girl "when T first! saw her. She was ufonding ap at hie -sjoe of her. lover at tVrt> marriage altar. She* was.dighfly Jjale—yet ever and anon, as the ceremony'proceeded, afemt tinge of'crimson crossed her beautiful cheek, like the reflection of :a simset ofcloudupon the dear waters of a quiet lake. Her lover, as he clasped: her hand within, his own, gazed on her a few mo*, ments with unmingled admiration, and, warm and eloquent blobd shadowed at intervals his: manly forehead and melted in beauty on his lips. ' And they gave themselves to one another in the presence of Heaven, and everjr heart blessed them, as they went their way rejoicing in their love. Years passed on and 1 again , saw those lovers. They were seated together where the light of sun* set stole through the half-closed crimson curtains, lending a richer tint to the delicate carpeting and the' exquisite • embellishment of the rich and gor-' geous apartment. Time had slightly changed them in outward appearance.- The girlish buoyancy of the one had indeed given; place to the grace of perfect womanhood, and her lips were somewhat paler, and a faint line of care was slightly percepti ble oh her brow. Her husbands brow, too, was marked somewhat more deeply than his age might warrant; anxiety, and ambition, and. pride, had grown over it and left their traces upon it; a silver hue had mingled with the dark in his hair, which had become thin around his temples, alniost to baldness. He was reading on his splendid ottoman with- his face half hidden by his hand, as if he feared that the deep and troubled thoughts which oppres sed him were visible upon his features. Edward, you are ill to-night,” said his wife in a low, sweet, half inquiring voice, as she laid her hand upon Ids own. Indifference from those wc love is terrible to the sensitive bosom. It is as if the sun of heaven re-* fused its wonted cheerfulness, and glared upon us ;with a cold, dim and forbidden glance.. It is dreadful to feel that the only being of our love re fuses to ask our sympathy—that he broods over the feelings which he scohis or fears to reveal— dreadful to watch the convulsive and the gloomy brow, the indefinable shadows of hidden emotion, the involuntary sight of sorrow in which we are forbidden to participate, and whose character we cannot know. The wife essayed once more. “ Edward,” bhe said slowly, mildly and afieetion ately, “ the time has been when you were willing to confide your secret joys and sorrows to one who has never, I trust, betrayed your confidence! Why then, rayj dear Edward, is 'this cruel reserve 1 You are troubled, arid yet refuse to tell me the cause.” Something' of returning tenderness softened for an insfant the cold severity of the husband's fea tures, but it passed away, and a bitter, smile -was his only reply. Time passed on and the twain was separated from each other, The husband sat gloomy and alone in the damp cell of a dungeon. He had fol lowed ambition as a God, and had failed in a high career. He had mingled with men whom Ms heart loathed, he had sought out the fierce and wronged spirits of the land, and had breathed into them the madness of revenge. He had”drawn his sword against his country; he had fanned rebellion to a flame, and it had been quenched in human blood. He had fallen, miserably fallen, and was doomed to die the death of a traitor. The door of the dungeon opened and a light form entered and threw herself into his arms. The softest light of sunset fell upon the pale brow and wasted cheek of his once beautiful wife. “ Edward, my dear Edward," she said, “ I have come to save you; I have reached you after a thousand difficulties, and, I thank God, my purpose is nearly executed.” Misfortune had softened the proud heart of man hood, and as the husband pressed his pale wife to his bosom, a tear trembled on his eyedash. I have not deserved this kindness,” he mur- mured, in the choked tones of agony. “ Edward,” said his wife, in an earnest but faint, and low voice, which indicated extreme and fearful debility, “we have not a moment to lose. 'By an exchange of garments you will be able to pass out unnoticed. Haste or we may be too late. Fear nothing for me. lam a woman, and they will not injure me for my efforts in behalf of a husband dearer than life itself” “Margaret,” said the"husband, “you look sadly ill. You cannot breathe the air of this dreadful cell”. * ■ “Oh, speak not to' me, my dearest Edward,” said the devoted woman, “I can endure anything for your sake. Haste, Edward, aU will be well,”, and she aided with a trembling hand *to disguise the proud form of her husband in female garb. “Farewell, my love, my preserver,” whispered the husband in- the ear of die disguised wife, as the officer 'sternly reminded the supposed lady, that the time alloted to her visit had expired. “Farewell! we shall not meet again,” responded the wife; and the husband passed out unsuspected and escaped the enemies of his life.- They did meet again: the wife and husband; but only as the dead may meet, in the awful com runnings ;of another world. Affection had borne up her exhausted spirit until the last great purposes of her exertions were accomplished in the safety of her husband —and when the bell tolled on the mor row, and the prisoners cell was opened, the guanis found, wrapped in the habiliments of their destined victim, the pale but beautiful corpse of the devoted Wife. The Bible. —How comes it that this.little vol ume, composed by, humble men in a rude age, when art and science were but in their childhood, has exerted more influence on the human mind and on the social system, than all other books put to gether? Whence comes it that this book has achieved such marvellous changes in the opinions of mankind^—has banished idol-worship—has abolished infanticide—has put down polygamy and divorce—exalted the condition of woman—raised the standard of public moraLity—created lor tami lies that blessed thing, a Christian caused its other triumph, by causing beneyolent institutions, open and expansive, to spring up as with the wand of enchantment? What sort of a book is this, that even • the winds and waVes; of human, passion obey it? What other engine of social improvement has operated so long, and yet lost none of .its virtue? bince it appeared, many boasted plans of amelioration have been tried and failed; many codes of Jurisprudence have arisen, and run their course, and expired. Empire after empire has been launched on the tide of time, and. gone down, leaving no trace on the waters. But this book is still going about doing good—leavening society with its holy principles—cheering the sor rowful with its consolations—strengthening ’ the tempted—encouraging the penitent—calming the troubled spirit-i-and smoothing the pillow of death. Can such a book be the offspring of human genius? Does not the vastness of its effects demonstrate the excellency of the power to be of God?— Dr. McCul lough. Goon Feelixgs axd Goon Actioxb.— “ We once heard, a man mnch praised for his good, feelings. Every body joined and said the man was possessed of excellent feelings. • ‘What has he done?’asked an old genius. ! ‘Oh 1 in every thing he is a man of fine benevo lent feelings; was the reply. ’ ‘What has he done?’ cned the old fellow again. By this time the company thought it necessary to shew seme of their favorite's doings. They began to east about in their minds, hut the old man still shouted, ‘What has he done?’ They owned that they: could not name, any thing in pah tieuiar. - *Yet; answered the cynic, ‘you say that the man has good feelings! fine, benevolent feelings, Now gentlemen, let me tell you that there-arepeople in this world who get a good name limply on aeeount of their feelings; You can't m one generous ae> lion they ever perfermed.in pair lives/hut they can look and talk most henyvelemly, I knows man in this town.that' you .weullalL,§BU,& surly, Vdngb, imuiniubti* maii. and m mot* ;«•!.> of kindise** man ul! of yfouait fogaitieh. Vpii; | nniy jndg* jiffijiJ-' '■> witti : >n» by ; judgv Im-i *; ,r i by thm * ; lU.** : ;1 irs»t. I conim» i.v ■ , Moulhito thahanJs of ' Goa, i«y creator, hoping. \ lhr«ugh;the tiKfUt of .Tesua' Christ my. Savior, j <0 be made partaker of life everlasting; and ,'iayj ? h-.v.‘j t*>;the, if «* made —K*ira^ t psisl kjT* V ■pu&i 5y .;sln-'>-. 1847. Tbelittle Hatcb^arL A CBXXBTICAS «TOKT, BT THK DAXIBII *OKT, BXBSOX. : jflff \ It wasso'Terriblycold,—it snowed, ahd tiiem.' to be dark - it was also the last n)ngin the year,—-NewTears Eve.- >On the IW&> dark fypninga tittlegirl wait inta die stxeeS withbarehead and naked feet It is true, she had shoes oq. when she went from home,/ but of what use were they! ' They werevery large:shoes,’ her mother had last worn them, they were too large; and die little one lost them in hurrying Over: the street as two carriages passed quickly. by.. Ope shoe was not to be found and the other a boy ran a 'way with, saying that he could use. it'for a cradle when children himself The little girl how went on her small naked feet, which were red and blue with cofd,—she carried a number of matches in an old apron, and held one bundle in her hand? Np one had bought of her die whole day, no one had given her a farthing. Poor thingl she jvm hungry and benumbed with cold and looked so [downcast! —The snow-flakes fell on her yellow hair,, which curled so prettily round her neck, but' did riotheed that The lights shone out from all tfre window’s, and there was such a delicious smell of roast beef in the streets,—it was New Years Eve, and she thought that ..... She sat down in a corner between two houses— the one stood a little more forward in the street than die other,—and drew her legs up under her to warm herself, but she was still colder, and she durst not go home: she had not soldi any matches or got a single farming! Her father would beat her, —and it was I also cold at home, they had only the roof directly over them, and there the wind whistled in, although straw and rags were stuffed in the largest crevices. < Her little .hands were almost benumbed with cold. Ah! a little match might do some good, durst she only draw one out of the bundle, strike it 6n the wall, and warm her Angers. She drew ouc ■ out ritch / how it burnt! it was. a warm clear flame like that of a single candle, when she held her hand round it, —it was a strange light! The little girl thought she sat by a large iron stove withbrass balls on the top; the fire burned so nicely and warmed so well! ’ Nay, what was that 1 The little girl stretched out her feet to warm, them, too; when theflame wfentout, the stovevah ished—she sat with a stump of the burnt match in her hand. Another was struck, it burnt, if shone ;j and where the light fell on the wall it became as transparent as crape; she looked directly into the room, where the roasted goose stuffed with apples and prunes steamed sh charmingly on the table which was laid out, and covered with a shining white cloth and porcelain service. Whatwas still, more splendid, the goose sprung off the dish and waddled along the floor with knife 1 and fork in: its back; it came directly up to the poor girk Then the match went out and there was only the thick cold to be seen. She struck another match. Then she sat under the most charming Christmas tree, —it was still 'larger and more ornamental than that she hod Been through.the glass door of the rich merchants the last Christmas: a thousand candles burrit on the green branches; and mdtley[pictures, like those which ornament the shop windows, looked down upon; her. ' The little girl lifted up both her hands —then the match was extinguished,—the many Christmas candles rose higher and Higher; ehe saw that they were bright stars,—one of them fell and made a fiery stripe in the sky. “Now one dies! 5 ’ said the poor girl, for old grandmother, who alone had been kind to her, but who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul goes up to God! She again strnck a match against the wall, it shone all around, and her old grandmother stood in the lustre, so shining, so mild and blissful. “Grand* mother!” exclaimed the little girl, “oh, take me ■with you! I know you will be gone away when the match goes out,—-like the warm stove, the de licious roast goose, and the delightful Christmas tree !'*—and she struck in haste the whole remain der of the matches that was in the bundle, —she would not lose 6ight of grandmother, and the matches shone with such brilliancy. that it was clearer than in broad daylight Grandmother had never before looked so pretty, so great; she lifted die poor little girl up in her arms, and they flew so high, so high, in splendor and joy, there was no cold, no hunger; no anxiety,—they were with God. But the little girl sat in - the comer of the house, in the cold morning hour, with red cheeks, and with a smile round her mouth,—dead—frozen to death, die last'Evening of the old year. New Year's morning rose over the little corpse as it sat with die matches, of which a bundle was burnt She had been trying to warm herself, said they! But no one knew what beautiful things she had seen, —in what splendor and gladness she had entered with her old grandmother into New- Year's Joys. Straxgk Astipathies.— Our antipathies and sympathies are most unaccountable manifestations of our nervous impressionability affecting our judg ment, and uncontrollable by will or reason. Cer tain antipathies seem to depend upon a peculiarity of the senses. The horror inspired by the. odour of certain flowers may be referred to I this cause— an antipathy so powerful as to. realize the poetic allusion, to ■ “ Die of a rose in aromatic pain.” For Amatus Lusitanus relates the case of a monk who fainted when he beheld a rose,-and never quit ted his cell while that flower was blooming. Orfila (a less questionable authority) gives the account of the painter Vincent, who was seized with violent ver tigo and swooned, when there were roses in the room. Valtain gives the history of an officer who was thrown into convulsions and lost his senses by having pinks in his chamber. Orfila also relates the instance of a lady, forty-six years of age, of a hale constitution, who could never be present when a decoction of linseed was preparing, without being troubled in the course of a few minutes with general swelling of the face, followed by fainting and a loss of the intellectual faculties, which symp toms continued for four-and-twenty hours. Mon taigne on this subject, that there were men who dreaded an apple more than a cannon-ball. Zimmerman tells us of a lady who could not en dure the feeling of .silk and satin, and shuddered when touching:the velvety skin of a peach; other ladies cannot bear the feel of fur. Boyle records a case of a man who experienced p natural abhor rence of honey; a young man ifivariably fainted when the servant swept his room. Hippocrates mentions one Nicanorj who swooned whenever he beard a flute, and Shakespeare has alluded to the bagpipe.' -Boyle fell into a cyncope when he heard the splashing of water; Scallger turned pale at the sight of.water-presses; Erasmus experienced febrile symptoms when smelling fish* the Duke d'Epernon swooned on-.beholding a leveret; although a hare did not produce the rame effect * Tycho 1 Brahe fainted at the sight of a fox; Henry IEL, of France, at that of a cat; and Marshall.d'Albret at a pig. The Horror that whole families entertain of cheese is well known.— Mind and Mai Ur. Tax Dimixxcz betweexthx words Hard-, sokz, PnzTTt, ard Bx AtrmtfL.*—lt is the fate of these words, when applied to the female sex, to be used indiscriminately one for the other, and yet, at the same time, no three words can be more differ ent ■ By a handtome woman we understand one, that is tall, (graceful and well shaped, with a regular disposition of features!- by a pretty, we mean due, that is delicately made, and whose features are so formed, as to please t by a a union of both. A lady may be hatidtmnt and not pretty, pretty and nettatuHome/ but to be 6wW(/b/, she must be both pretty and hanibmti Many a kadiamr woman has a ferblddlngeoun« tenanee. ■ it hu beeA the mlafcrtune of many a putty wo mg|) | {g oF§6k@di .■ *j s ~; ~.- ~ Awawf(Afwoman, ia, new*a*!aya, very rare to PAUSB firPßeTi b« met with. . „ . . Thii I»W| they i»yi |fs»t,‘{j*taM'««iialn l si9nnefltiV ! • PMhm, «nta an -Mm «f ilmplitlty | Am* Th»i taiua mt niiuinniduae mti i ’.r mnm.9tnobilityi, bantu,ot-miimy, ' , . £ j/fflSsriS^aaS' fttafriiuni tie&t/ef or kmutow; tb# theg&erdewM, by Uw 411 my ffbjreWttf « /, t>> , , V’rtfi, Rf reprevjn'ed ua no, in other «hine», >. J-C-/" 7’ r "r-'Tw/r-..; .. . - we-giy, s .beautiful palace; a Aomiscw lwusuj * ; EffWW ndnnr»W*'.i(i'Tb«. wmplitity,, A l' (he pmity coiwffM , ..Evangriieui tflrrnwiitJiiifc- ioj«wio»ty '<fc)k * oNm* eurMty; W)em!M 4lfl Jesu , < ifc.tiiiemc wdman, of admiration r.aiul u/.i-dfv one _ , . t jofiovo. ■ .■ ; -■ he-jurtaea. Theywyttfffcfeffwggjgß When applied » dtheg.ilungg; l «»blf; ; »«6e?tjort *.iliav 11 Wswait^MSSK i ~ 1" sir Calhoun and Beiiton. ; i Those who takOno part in politics, or\vho look oii the two opposing parties ar upon two; sides of a pyramid. j<onectirig leach’ other's leanirigs, and holing the atrengthofthe country betweenthem— aife still interested: scwnetitaes to know the shape in Vhich die coraer-etonefare hewn—-the grainand Sk ftom natinfe eminent men. are >,to| their iellowsl The two great 1 Southern Calhoun and Benton, .figuringi&i strong Senate,'and, in arnemorahjan 'icord anychahce approach of puysj to \ of ja?star, we put inlk onffie im* "’Si.of these two, in a Week's ob v wepreeent them to our conjunctions and prepo-, written to gram* Ctadjmgjts, relief ifitt \vherein'w! the personal pressions we serration; and here' readers—padding only sitions, left out, so univei—, be read When one is beyond n mar-i '■ •: 'Bxxtok is a caric&turexKkehess of LjouSTnUp lippet—the same rotundity,, the same peax-shapetT headland about the! same stature. ; The physical expression of his facepredominates,.His lower features j.aje drilledrato-; imperturbable suavity,’ white the eye, thatundrillableiale-teller, twinkles of# nward slyness 'is a burning lamp-wick does of oil. He; is a/laborfoiis builder-up of hini^elf—fet ing by sjdlbgistic forecast 1 , never, by impulses. He is > prpmpously polite and never abroad' Without “ExecuUye M ,manners. has made uplhia mind that oratory, if .not a national weakness,-is anun- Presidential accomplishment, and he delivers him self in the Senate with subdued voice, like a judge deciding] upon /a cause which the other Senators had onlW argued. He wears an ample blue cloak, and a oroad-brim'd hat with a high crown, and lives, moves, and has his being, in a ifaith in him self which 'wiU remove mountains of credulity.— j representing a State two thousand; miles on, he resides regularly at. Washington, paying rare and brief visits to his constituency, Whose votes he has retained for more'than twenty years-j-au unac countable exception tothe rota tion of the country's gilts of office. j Mr. Camoux Uves inhis mind and puts a sort of bathing-dress value on his body.: There is a temporary-looking; tuck away of his heard and hair, as if they would presently be better comjbed in another place—-mouth and eyes kept clear only, for a brief .Ufe-fcwim s in the ocean of politics: - He is taH,'Hollow-chested, and emaciated; and both face and figure are concave 1 , with the student’* bend for ward. Ha smile's easily when spoken to—indeed with rather a simple. facility—though, in longer conversation, he gives his eye to the speaker, barely . in recognition;, of an idea—with' a most “liertom sap" withdrawal; from talkativeness, i When speak ing in the Senate he is a very startling looking than.. ‘ His skin: lies b&IIow ana loose on the bald frame, of his face—his stiff gray hair spreads off from rather' a low forehead with the semicircular, radiation of the smoke from a wheel,of [fireworks just come to a stand still—the profuse masses of white'bleard on his throat catch the eye like the smoulder of. a fire under his chin—and! his eyes, bright tjs coals, move with jumps, as if he thought in electric leaps, from one idea to another. He dresses j carelessly, walks the street; absent inind edly,- and is treated with the most marked personal respect; and involuntary deference, by His brother Senators and the diplomatists of Washington. - He is a great man—probably on ambitious one—but he indignantly denies the charge of 1 «making tracks" jfor the Presidency.—Home/otirna/.' I will never forget the expression; used by an Irishman w hom I oncedexaminedais a witness. It was at the commenceirient of ray/ professional career, and while I yet devoted myself to exciting contests; in Ward Courts, practicing;tiiose arts, the rudiments of which are best learned in suclrtribu-. nal, that it one 'day beearae my duty to cross-ex amine one Michael Slavin, who had “come forard’’ to testify that His friend, Dennis M’Gonegal, had no “praperty in the wide world.” Michael was a “fine lump of a boy,” w-itli Ids hair cropped to the closeness better adapted for the necessities of a fight, than, the graces of, a parlor. Around his forehead, however, there frizzled a few ' curls which he was sure to lay hold of when “doin’ • the gen ) teel. y . ; It was pretty evident that Michael, Having some t. regard fqr me, considered my'pursuit of his friend £ a business quite beneath my powers, and while I * put question after question to him, there was u - strange; commingling of waggery! and sadness in his Harsh. Hut honest features, which indicated that he would heartily at. the small promise of my investigation, if he did not feel offended at what: he considered its want of dignity, i * “NoW Michael,”., said I, “had hot your friend Dennis[a sideboiirdt” “A sideboard!' 5 , exclaimed Michael with a look of surprise. *“ Would you call the thing he had; there, a 'sideboard'?! Blessins on us, but gintlemen has sometimes quare.notions.” .. “ Queer or not,-rny friend, had he a; sideboard?*’ “Upon my conscience, Counsellor, if you'd, see the article you're bothern’ about, you'd wondher it id have house room ('anywhere but out of doors."' “ Was it a sideboard nr notT’ “It \yas an ould box wid but one leg, and a brick bat undher it, and plastered all over wid dirt, and soitaaiJewin Chatham street wouldnot giye a rap onj.it.’?”." j- • • 'V' •''' • “Had he'a carpet?V• . '•*; “A carpet?? exclaimed Michaeh “deed, Conned*, lor, you're jokinl The. few rags; he kid'*spread, over tile Sure had maybe looked like a carpet in the ancient times, but faith, they'd given up lookin that way for many adong day,” : a i ' , “What was it worth,??. . ; !. ■ . "“Worth? Pon me.sowl it \yasj worth a man’s while ip lookiat it for curiosity.'? . “Come, my: friend, I want . , “If *ou doh't my darliii,-you'd; better lave off wid the'carpet? : “Was it worth five dollars?” ... “Mijslia good luck/to the Cqoiurt, but that's a sharp'thing! ; Five dollars!; Ifariyohiadhaun gey 1 five dollars'for, thirn rags, a guinea for a cup O Jcowld tay?’ :• i . : . ' . “Nojv, T my.friend, I have heard: enpugfr of this. I'wantj to know from you whether MqGonegal had any Jurniture in his room or 'not', andT'require a" direct answer?' .-h , - • ; - “ W^ll,. God forgive you, a poor 1 job yotfve got.the, day..i>opr /UiomfcjGod help him, hifd little enough in his place,but a nants of ould dacency ” ' \. >ly crose-exarainution ceased!— X Y.Sjjirit of ike Times. ' •.■•y'.'r JCv'l ... ■C wk*t .'i-i, * r&l ' r ■ . ii. ' NO. 48. “Ould Dacencyi” i A Cueious SHor-BiLiv—Jexas - WittiAMS,' dark, saxon, town kryer, and batman;,meaks and he sell4.awl sprtsof weryjgudehaberdayshares, gr*>; cerris, likewise hare and viggs drest and kut on thq. shortness ;notess. w * N. B. I keep* an evening skool, vere l teaches &t resonable rats, reeding and riting,. graraatticaW lie, and, singing by nots. " ; . ; . • • N. B. I plays the hooboy c>casmally,lf and gets agobd pryce. 1 . v N, B. My- shop his next dore verelbloed*, draws teeth, andshooea horses, viththtgreatest skil, ftojm ould expere#*'.- ( . N.; Bi Children taught todance, if agreeable, at . sixpenclperveek, by; me, J,- Willlamsj Whb bieaA J sells ould irone and doles, :. Shoes Skilled arkoflhn* li ' did, ‘J-1" N ; > B, A M attd puteaf Btocken* to becug gleJ ibfc the .best lnfi.onSfove'fiuedii,.- For part tilert ynkwite vlthla.ef at Shs Bhaa tiad Bell, W the church. up tothemide af tW .wee, ■ . w. b, Leekamthe dear Ibr.the altie af the a PUlne, . _ , > . .;. ' jw«fy fails wle ini auHitiiuea Slier,. . , :j. . N, 1] Lujins Ibr single men, ; ]/,. „Mgj sSßJySsiicv’??'- v \~:. , *'j»k29 m ...
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