X2`2' TgW4ZIS2WAVoI, Lao Nrc. A Psalm of. Life. BY H ER BY W. LosvrELLow Tell me not, in. mournfurnmilberi, -. Life is but an empty dream ; - " For the soul is dead that slumbers, Azul things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest. And the grave is not its goal ; Dug thou art, to dust retamest, Was not spoken of the soul, Not enjoyment, and not-sonnw, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow - Find us farther than to-day. izt is long, and Time is fleeting, ;And our tieatts though stout and brave, 0111 like muffled drums are beating, Funeral marches to the grave. - In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life ; Ben9t - like dtirnb, driven cattle! Bea hero in the strife ! Trust no future, howe'er 'pleasant! 'Let the dead past, bury its.destl ! Act,—act in the living present ! Heart within and God derhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footsteps on the sands of Time. Footsteps, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, _shall take heart again. lAA' us, then, be up and doing,- With a heart for any fate; • Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn ➢ to labor and to wait. Lines suggested by the 78th birth-play of Andrew Jackson. 1:=1 Old lion heart! hciw light the snows • Of ages rest upon thy Lead ; While, far and wide - , l thy fiercest foes, I Are numbered with the silent dead! Within thy manly bosom leaps . The life's blood es in days of cdt l / 4 , When sank the slain iserimson heaps By Chatahooches , waves of gold,, • Thy hattlo-sword, unsheethed in wrath Where tempests brood and eagles moult, Flashed on the red man's blasted path Like the avenger's thunderbolt; • ambuscades and sylvan bowers, From ranks to ranks its terrors Sew, ' Till, streaming (rum the land of flowire, It drank the blood of Waterloo. More precious thah the sceptre fouud Among the grim old Rodeiick's dust, . In friendship's hands, with garlands crown'd, It rest; a nation's sacred trust; ' And when it gleams in triumph where The island queen her empire sway; Let the bold English knight beware The conqueror's steel of other days. Man of the Hermitage: live on, To bless the land, and crown thy fame, Till, like a second Washington, The nations wake to shout thy name: Live on, amid earths fairest bowers, An 'oracle- of truth and love, And find' it last, mid blooming flowers, A - pathway - to thy rest above. WAsnuccrrOs, March 15, 1845.—' Thaw to Marry. When your get married, don't marry it pet, A jilt, or a vixen, or yet a coquette "kut marry a maid—that is, if you mi— n:lie fit for tho wife of a sensible man. toot out for the girl, that is healthy and yoing , more in her broth= yon hear from her • tongue. _ • And though she be freckle], or burnt to, a tan, et she is the girl for a sensible awn. With riches will,wretchedness often in Go linked, when Your riches are;ot with a wife; Bat marry, and motet; nilthe riches you can, Like a bold, independent, and sensible man. Look foc a girl who is gentle and kind, . And modest end !client, and tell her' our mind, If ahe's wise, as bewitching, she'll welcome the plan, - And,poon be the wife of a sensible man. - . Then cherish her excellence wisely and kind; And be to 'small foibles indulgently blind ; . For so you make happy, if any thing can, The wife of a eober, abd sensible ratan: • • 'Epitaph. - . How lov'd, lioiv sa . u'donce. avails To whom related, or by whom begot: A . heap of dust alone reniaiws of thee ; w all thou art, and all the protid shall he. . _ . . . - • ~ , ..- , ' ~ , .• , -,' . -.., -- ...L ... , . .-',.: ; ...... ".. - -•:- : .-..:.;., ": .eap, 4 l‘tp • . . :',.*:' - - . .."..!: - q.: ~' •• ''t ' :','.'1., , """ ' '--- g .% '.-- ' ''' .'"..- ' . , .". •' ' ~:: , ~ " .(- ",,- 01' 'e. - ~ -.. i.,, , . , •...11, • ill '-; 1 - - - .-- -'' 4- -. "; 4. . ~._ : ~...,..... ..?..:.,..,.._ .f.‘„......:.!.,i.....,.,........„,:. ... .... . . • • ~ ~,.,.... ... .., : r.". ;fr..." •I- :,'".',..- :. • . , . ' (61 - -- 410 • e- _ .., . . ...„ ...._,,_, .. • .......•.. ..._ . ,_ ....... . Almost an Elopement. We met an old friend the other - day whom we had not seen : for. several months. John," said we, .in the course of a conversation with him, “why don't you get married and settle down somewhere?", Get married and settle down, ,you sa id," John repeated with• emphasis." ~ Yes." ‘• I came very near settling down without getting married,, a white ago." • How's that-?" No matter—l don't like to tell se crets to an editor." "- But in confidence, you know, John. Come out with it." Won't you. tell ?" No." " Now I know you will ; but pledge me that my name shnll not go with it, and. you shall have the story, and may tell it as much as you please. • • i We pledged our " sacred honor," and John threw away his cigar and com menced. . . , " Here , some two or three months ago, I happened into oneolthe prettiest little villages you ever set your eyes upon—" . - 1 e What was its rimer "'That's my concern, ' and I'll man- 1 age it'vathout your assistance, It was indeed a beautiful village, with pretty streets, pretty houses, pretty gardens, pretty fences, pretty every thing—and among other things, pretty women.— The latter, you know, I naturally take a liking to; and of course. I was not displeased when a kind of fifteenth cousin, whom I called on during a short stay there—on business, strictly—in vited me 'to make his house my home for a fortnight or so, while I went over the sporting grounds in the neighbor hood„ and killed all 'the beasts, birds and witches that ran wild there. Hang me, ill didn't thank the fellow with a full heart ; and I moved my little bun dle of clothes and other rubbish to his house in double quick time. Well, I had been there three or font days, and had been gunning every day, without so much as killing a woodpecker or tree toed,' when one day, in crossing a piece of open ground surrounded en tirely with woods. 1 discovered, not a little to my surprise, the prettiest girl I had ever seen in my whole life. From her appearance, I judged- at once she had lost her way.' prepared myself im mediately to perform a piece of true gallantry. So walking straight up to her, I communicated my suspicions, very politely, and inquired if I could render any assistance. . .. . She reblied that she had lost her way in attempting to get through the wood by an obscure path, and would be very much obliged if I led her into the main road, or point opt to her the direction in which it lay, ,Away we started to gether. On theiyay we chatted about every thing we could think of, (except her pretty self, which I was thinking of continually,) for she was sociable as an old school mate, and even told me her name, the name of - her father, and the names of Italia dozen brothers and sisters whom I had never seen, and did not care to see. We we got into the road, she pointed out herfather's house, which was in sight; and, was going to thank me .for my services; but I stop ped her„ . hy saying . that it would be very little out of my way to see her home, and I preferred to do so. All the way there, we chatted and laughed, andeold stories, and , even jokes ;, and by the time we parted at the gate of Old Dea con B--"efarne house, I could have sworn that ,we were old acquaintances. 1 left her, ...hoping to see her again, sometime," andshe left me,, .t" hoping to -learn of my. safe arrival at home," - The next Sabbath I met her atchtirch --.the next Monday evening at a village party, end,eseorted'her home—the next Friday I, called on her "_accidentally " -;-the ne.n.Spnilay evening by permis sion.; 'in two weeke. I was in love---in three, " I had told.my love "—and in four I was.the next move to the biggest ,f491-thatzever grew out ofikatural .phi losophy; . Three : times I .popped : the .question e hut she,wouldit't say yes or. no, or even hint that she would or I would ~not seal, my. happiness. , The ' fopith time she looked very grave, hung down heir her head, sighed, and I even midtrusted , shed tears.: ." Shall I .ask „ - the..conseht. of . your ,father r,', said .1, , after waiting : hall an , hour for an answer to . tim-, lineation tin. Which hurig my hopes, : ~ That - .would never.do, ' she answered with a .sigh,-; .. he would : not 'consent . to .my.. marriage with 40ti, I km* he-would n0.t,',',.. i inisfruated, from .this that shelter; self had broached - the - subject : to:tha. Deacon, and had got a flafrefusal of his Regardless' of Denimitatims from Cloy wkiramt s , 2323..&w0razi) ozurgivw 9 . maw . sa s r 024:1541, consent to the 'match. I tvalked home that - evenink in'mueh distresi, •Passed'a restless night at my cousin's house,and rose__ the next morning with my.head full of pains and dark forebOdings. My cousin•. rallied me , on oak dull appsar undo, and I determined at once to tell him" ' the secret of my :troubles and ask his advice. .I accordingly accompanied him ~to his little grocery, and when there, Unravelled the whole matter as to It briitlier." That Ellen 8.--=," said he, when I had concluded, " is the greatest coquette in the country ; or the world, and I adyise, you to keep your love matters to yourself, when you are in her company. If I had-"mistrusted you were at all tender I should have told you of this- before,' but as it turns out, I advise you now tolet her alone." I did not make 'any reply, but really thought my cousin the biggest fool in Christendom. Had she not - kept my company—and said soft things to me— and blushed, and grieved, and sighed, when I popped .the question for the fourth time ? The next evening I, called on Ilen again—she was alone and seemed twice as beautiful as ever, - For the fifth time, I offered her my hand. She came very near fainting , away, but would not an swer me yes or no. What Could the matter be ? Of course I attributed the whole to the obstinacy of the deacon, her father,—and being more than half crazy between love for her and hate for him,. it will scarcely be wondered at, that before leaving, I suggested to her that if we couldn't be happy with his consent, we had a perfect right to pro ceed without it,—" We' could take a ride, some evening," said I ; " go to the mail train of cars and in two hours be mnn and wife.. " When would you call for me ?" she asked. - - , oro-Morrow evening," I replied, almost wild with delight,— ,, eight o'clock.'? Well," said she after a pause, '3l will be there." The next evening, at half-past seven, the village stable keeper drove a car riage to my door. Just as I was step ping into the carria;gc, a little boy hand ed me a note. I turned into the ,house a moment to read it. The contents run after this sort. ,s My dear Mr. S—: I have con sulted with my ther about running away with • - ight, - and he thinks the air is so da"p I should certainly take cold. He suggests that it would answer all reasonable purposes for you to run away alone. But I hope you will not do this till you have accom plished the intention you expressed on your arrival in our village, which was, I believe, before you left it, to make a conquest of the heart of the prettiest girl within ten miles. Yours as truly as ever, ELLEN 13. I immediately recollected having foolishly expressed this foolish inten tion a day er two before my arrival in the village, to an old friend ,who ac companied me there on business with some other merchants. I recollected, too, that the boast was made while we were on a walk through the village, that a lady was close behind us all the time, and my friend , who saw her face, thought she must be an angel. She turned out to be the one ! Alk horse was sent back to the stable, and the next, morning I was leaving the beautiful village and the beautiful . Ellen, and my fifteenth cousin and his' happy family, as fast as steam would carry . • -; The Friendless. It is strange and'sad that-society doesi afford no stay, no support, to those who are. left alone. in: the wide - world ; nay, more, that so to be left, seems in,a great - degree to sever the ()duds between us And society. “:11e mist' have some friends-let hint apply -to them," ve . are apt to, say .whenev,er : one.of these solita ryones.come before us, whether it is advice, assistance, or defenee thafis needed. He must have some friends !" It is - 'a phrase In • cotistant use, - and in - our - o wu - heartrs•we eir, On to say; ".If he has not, he must have lost them 4y,his . own fault,". ,and yet how many,events may deprive Men, :and much more Ire quently women,' of the only friends - pos.. .seseed - • -.' •-•' GET OUT 0F Di.ir.--ileatler,:if you oweany one, - Tiay -liim iminediStely, if you,, es.ri. If w you edn't, go to ork', dig delve, vrork-night and day until yon _get out of debt.. Do ; anything that . -,honest and honorable, so iliat,y?u,ean say; «I citre perion, no, not evqn the Prifitit." - ; DO die; andleur Con , science Will -be =easy. and your sleep sweet. in 'irtms 'in Lift; ' It is iiSeful, 'as wellas interesting; to notice the- changes,: for 'the better or worse, v.rlitch-ten or fifteen years serve to operate , in a cOmutonity. 1 know a bitsiness man on Main street, 'refused credit in 1830 for a'stove worth twelVe- dollars. He is now di rector in One of the banks, and is now worth $150,000 at least: Every ceot of this has been_ made in. Pincinnati du ring that - short period: I know - another business man, also on Main street, who was refused cred it in 1825, by a firm in the drug line, for the amount of five dollars. In 1830 that very firm lent that very man five thousand dollars upon his unindors - ed note. I know an extensive dealer in , the city, now worth one hundrsd thousand dollars and who can command more money on a short notice, •"for sixty, ninety, or one hundred and twenty days, than almost any man in Cincin nati, to whom I, as - clerk for a grocery house in 1830, sold a hogshead of SU.- gar, with' great inisgiving and reluc tance, under .some apprehension of not getting the money when 1t became due. . , I know a man whose credit in 1830 was such that when I trusted! him for a keg of saltpetre, my employer told me I might as.well have rolled it into the Ohio. Since, this period he was worth fifty thousand dollars ; then a bankrupt: worth in 1837 one hundred thousand dollars ; and bow worth twenty thou sand dollars. I know a man good for thirty thou sand dollars who, ten years' ago, exhi Wed a monkey through the streets o Cincinnati for a living. I know a heavy businlss man, a director of a - bank, who sold apples in a basket, when a boy, through the, streets. I knew one of the first merchants in our city in 1825. who could at that pe riod have bought entire blocks of the city on credit, a director in, • one of the banks, who, within ten years of that period, died insolvent and intemperate. Another influential man of that day whose credit was unlimited, being pre sident of one of our insurance com panies,'and also a bank director, died within five years insolvent and intem perate. Another individual who was consider ed in 1837 worth half a million of dol lars. has since died, leaving the estate insolvent. Another individual, of credit equal to his wants, and 4 worth, at one time, twelve thousand dollars, and a judge of our court, died in our city hospital, and was buried at theislublic expense. I have seen him once and again presiding at public meetings. The founder of the penitentiary sys tem in Pennsylvania, and well known in that State and elsewhere as aliublic man, died a pauper in the commercial hospital in this city. I have seen him addressing the legislature of that State at Harrisburg, and listened to with the attention and deference that would have been paid to John Quincy Adams, or any other public man of his age. I know a lady, the descendant of a distinguished Governor, of Massathu: setts, who supports, herself by her nee dle ; and the niece - of 'a Governor. of New Jersey,'still living, who 'wellies for her subsistence: I know a lady,: itvhe. .thirty years ago, in the, city in; Which I . then lived, was the cynosure, of eyes; one of the most graceful 'aitl.,beautifnl of the sex; and moving in- -tWfirst circles of wealth and , fashion, gow , engag ed in drudgery, end depenaepce, at one c 'tlollar and fifty cilpts per wide. Al! these re side in thiS.city:' • • What. are the limiting' of '.. romariee writer co pared to some of there- alities of Inman, life ?—eist's ..11d.ver lisir. Boiling .Potatqc3., Not one . , house keeper poi ,of,..ten . knows how ,to bbilpotathe,s.prbrierly. ilanjrish; Method; on e of the best we know: Clean and wash the pota toes and leave the skin.no.. then bring the Water to : a and throw . them in. As seott boiled;'sdit 'Cntitigl lit a -fink to be eatiibilthrusi: „iioiigh 'there; 'dash sair.b ~cold water intiv the' pot r let ,the potatoes remain , _two inintnes; and then. pour Oil ,the-,water,.. This. ,done, half remove the potliii; and lei the pb tatoish-remaircover a sloW fire till Ake stearti is, eybPorcted, : thett .pepLami, set thern,bn the table• hi_ art, ppett Vinatoes ~ora go,id 140 tliui. coked, will alivays Isirief, A covereirtliah±li bed-lot:4iotathee,;'lti it tps the steatb in,and thatiftiliteib watery. • ME , .The . Ninister.:, • Few,p'eo - Plerealize,the,manifold toils of a isettled - cler6rhan. l4O truly the Servant of alt. Every member of his congiegation may -command his sem des at any time'. Sonee one has. aptly remarked, that ? the , p,eople expect theii minister to be always in his study, and always visiting his flock." They want sermons that require ,much deep thought, extensive reading, thorough investigation of the subject matter of which they ,_treat, logical arrangement, and every ,thing that characterizes .a hnished production—and three such sermons,each week, when every -such production would ,cost, a month's hard labor! - Ho must visit the sick; preach ma ny funeral sermons ; go to_ the,house of -meurning ; -comfort the widow,- and soothe the fatherless; rejoice' with the prosperous ; condole with' the infer innate; labor to reclaim the-backslider; look after the wayward and disobedi ent; devote hours of each day to con versation with those who call at his study for instruction ; read alVihe new ? ly. published -theological works; an swer every letter that, is addressed to him, even those written upon-the most frivolous subjects; and ;always be pre pared for the Sabbath, and so prepared, that he can please every auditor, and drive-the spirit, of drowsiness from eve ry one disposed to slumber in- church. In point of fait, the majority of people desire that amount of labor at the hands of the minister, that no five men can perform. Are not the minister's labors onerous ? in -this respect, is his.posi tion an enviable one, and can he possi bly meet all the Wishes and realize all the hopes, of all his people ? Who, that looks correctly at the sub ject, can withhold the exclamation— .. Who is sufficient for these things ?" And then his compensation—does it correspond to the amount of labor he performs ? No. With few exceptions, the language of the pious deacon to the newly settled minister, is painfully re alized—i, the Lord keep you humble and we will keep you poor," a mere living being allowed him; and when, he sinks in death, by care or toil, or' sears oppressed," his children are left penniless, to brave, unprotected, the black froWns, and experience the cold charities of the world. There are a few settled clergymen, who constitute an exception to this picture—but the exceptions are comparatively • few.— Reader, if you will carefully consider the life of the pastor, you will, be less inclined to complain when the sermon is not interesting, and will -more fre-, I gently pity the minister ! Astonishing a Cockney. The Rev. Doctor' Breckenridge, '• in his. travels in Europe, relates the follow ing amusing anecdote; . • ”.A. gentleman-like and well-informed Englishman, who was in the stage coach with me, and who found out that I was an American, after dilating on the great ness, the beauties, the majesty ; in short, of this noblest of British rivers (the Thames,) concluded thost ' , Sir, it may seem almost incredible to you, but it-id nevertheless 'true,' that this prodigious stream is, from its mouth to its source; not.much ifat nil short of .one hundred and fifty miles long , I looked stead fastly in his face, to see if he jested, but the gravity of deep conviction was opon it. 'lndeed Jelin 13n11 never jests. After composing myself roi i 'moment, I slow ly- responded--“ perhaps, sir, yon: never heard of the Ohio ?" think I have. " Perhaps of the Missciuri ?" I think Sri; though not sure:" • Certainly of the Mississippi ?" " - Olt yes,. yes.i Well, - sir, anion will deicend thebbio steamboat.of the largest class a thou sand miles." Of what, ear.",....1.H0w many sir ?" "A. thousand mile S—and ,there. he will meet anoihor steamboOt, of the ctass,,tvhieh Lae, come ,in :an .oppo 'site direction,, twelve. buntlred miles . do'wn the 14 itisissippi=--he sees that flood of water disembogne by fitly`Chantiels into the sea."' I hail' made-tip mind to• ate condidered.a cheat; so..t went calmly, and.emphaticallythrough the, stateittent. As I progressed,.my ponipariiott, seemed somewhat 'disposed to. take' my story as n personal afriOnt but at its , close he lei • doWn:hi's . vigage -, r446 . a `con'tempttion4 pout, and regularly cut in ac nettitita - • , , BEST *AY TO COOK' Ecos'.—Bienk iltenfifitn- trot (not ,boilind) uratei. and Jet then' teutairt the. yoilt.is sufficient- JYA°P4O7-the.4.::1?4 1 ,, , 9 11 - I ?guri: P.ePPer and satt,• and, .y . opll .21V,..e AOll yi, C ur ut roost etgs.' -F4llter-•;.1' . . r Oil etliti io aseetiaill he has at interest r, - . • • " ;3 3i 71 :1 " 7. .4. 4• ,7%, • , = MEE (Wtt tEtO cdcruliaotaiel ate. Vihnt lm 1 r BY - -"DOW, JR::; .. •Wheia 1 ask myselfAlii question; ‘. l What am, U": it puzzles me lipw to answer lt, MateriallY speaking, lam .6 sort of increased nonentity- , -iiiimall - barrel of unetrained oil oririothing. thickened into.riubstance by accidental- ly coming into. - ,contact .witha kold; congealing world. Chemirally , Speak ing, I am a cbmpound of phosphorus; gas,and'aiinospheric wind- - -as' mostOf you have, - doubtless;-:long. discovered. MecbnicallYcl am an old clock. madp. wound, set in motion seyeral years ago by the clockinaker of the Univeree. 1 was made to 'run - '7O years; at-least ; arid if Fate and Fortune wilt keep my inner works in order, I. shall expect to keep going till my. - weights hate rim the-,full length of their Acura.: Motally,speak ing. l'am an equal mixture of:vice arid virtue-a kind olvinegar and inolasFes mess. - So nicely''are they mixed; to: gether that the vinegar of. vice is„not too sour to be unpalatable, nor the mo lassie of virtue so siviet as to be sicken ing.; , MY feelinge are tender as todd stools—my passions as strong 'as a de coction of tobacco Juice—my sympa thies are as down puderan angel's wing . and my desires for the promotion of human happiness are just as I happen to feel about the head, heart 'arid - ski; -mach. . Metaphorically speaking, I am a trs. thing_of time, played for a short period and then cast . , among rubbish ; a foot ball of fate, •kicked abotit till I buret, and am tier: More worthy of a stick ; and wind pi 111.excuetnent, that moves with the Ovular breeze, but is still in,:t calm and curtcut thermometer,.my mer cury rising to summer beat by the warm rays of,hope, and sinking to be low zero in , the cold atMosphere of doubt ;'a mean tallow candle,' already burnt one-third of tIM way to the sock et, and every moment in danger , of be ing extinguished ,by the sufferers of death an old boot worn' by -a pil,gritil with a wooden leg; over the rough road of existence,'-till it is -neither • worth heeling, soleing, patching, nor preserv ing. In fact, my friends, I,dou't see that I an iny \ more use to the universe, (considered as a whole,) than a shoi , el of poudrette we ten acre cornfield. When lam dead atul go'ne,lshall be as a thing that - neyer •had been; and children. of ~posterity.wilt,probably shoot marbles across my 'grave, as nn= conscious of their scriligtoits doings, as a 'parcel of tnice gnaiving at the grea sy leaves of an Old and favorite !multi Bible. Suitable for Various lileiidia6. The Times and,Preess.. alteivspapei publiShed at Fort IY4no, tndiana, has a Chapter on boys, groin which we copy the following paragraph, Velieving it to he as applicable to the rising keniuscs of our Own - meridian as - to•any .of the young fry of the Hoosier-State: It.does appear as though all parental restraint - and authority were remo v ed from the youth of the present day 'A five of tik, years of age, and they Were permitted to at ooie ends frorn' time on: It is no uncommon thing our streets,to hear boys, from. ei4bt . tti sixteen years of age, cursing and swear ing oaths and imprecations . that would choke' pirate. We know plenty . of such boys; and yet ibis 'community *it's raising Money—and seine of diese. very boys parents contribute to the fund—to send to the, other side. of the to ebni7ert . the 'heathen. l3enetiet,:efen't indeed! Better to 'begin 'at 'du roir'ti firesides! • • • The Dignity of Printing. God was the first Printe r! • ITe:ra'r . o from his awful hand, mid the • darknesiA of .Sinai,.the. ,mind. of God ealogue,of all moral.law, • the-claims of Man, upon man, antl.God upon all. , thy art ilia( shall: :hat.til to the htest `y ears ,- posterity,' to' inutnerable -- millienk 'yet unborn ••of G od, , The. - rilto!ighl'a.:4 inert wh . o are,lliAng no ;. of rnenrwhuitved eeittitiieS since, they defy, time, and tlin 'printed transcript Hof ihesein'ets live toe full of • soul' to be tint in - the grave::with•theirv'erisliable. bodies.. ,• It was a bright thought of that-author. Who iti.his dying tnontent, ivasjustablo to asii proof of liislast„. work .:Was correole4—"all corrected-! - "..Yes,nll. l 7 .have !:t:to,triplpte . ,pdition MIEMI . . nip. feltoßm; -in Lottis,' in. ahutling to the tb.biii 'for the be- neht„ef . then before. ilia Alis,souri ; LegishilittOiaslis if it wnnitl b'eeibii for the tueinhers to (To t•Oin.e hi ben ch L'at single ladies; anti not trouble. tlienlqlvc;s:wiili; other men's S• =SI ~YyeiO Al&
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