1
0 s
~,1.,(D,n,,,- , t,, ~
1 4 . 1/4,/bO/4 ~,
,„.„.,..,„
~,
~. ,
: ._,:4,,, ,
. 4 II ~,, -. u ,
. c.,
_ .,, - -....---,,.: : -?1 Vi,
(...---,, .-
."k"-..---..4,,,--
Y JAS, CLARK.
• THE FARYIER'S DAUGHTER..
" She may not in the mazy oance,
With Jewcied maidens vie ;
LA She may not smile on earthly swain
With soft bewitching eye ;
She may not boast a form and mien
That lavish wealth has bnu4ht her;
But ah, she has much fairer charms—
The farmer's peerless daughter !
The rose and lilly on her cheek
Together love to dwell ;
Her laughing blue eyes wreath around
The heart a witching aril ;
Her smile is bright as morning's glow
Upon a dewy plain,
And listening to her voice we dream
That spring has come again.
The timid fawn is not more wild,
Nor yet more gay arid free ;
The lilly's cup is not more pure
In all its purity ;
Of all the wild flowers in the wood,
Or by the chrystal water,
There's none more pure or fair than she,—
The farmer's peerless daughter !
The haughty belle, whom all adore,
On downy pillow lies;
While forth upon the dewy lawn
The merry maiden hies;
And with the lark's uprising song,
Her own clear voice is heard;
We may not tell which sweetest sings,
The maiden or the bird.
Then tell me not of jewelled fair—
The brightest jewel yet,
Is the pure heart where virtue dwells
And innocence is set:
The glow of health upon her cheek,
The grace no rule hath taught her ;
The fairest wreath that beauty twines
Is for the farmer's daughter.
THE OPEN HAND.
DY 3. A. WILITTAUER,
wondo'ful the common street,
Its tumult and its throng,
The hurrying or the thousand feet
That bear life's cares along."
"For the love of Heaven, good friend,
a penny," said a feeble beggar one night
to a wealthy merchant in Chesnut street.
Eita the proud man, wrapping his rich
mantle around him, turned scornfully
away ; and the beggar passed on.
You would scarcely have noticed the
scene, yet there was in it a whole hi,
tory of life; the calm, unfeeling cold
ness of an inhuman apathy, and the
agony of a breakinc , b heart. Vie one
w'nt to his lordly home, where music
and gladness, and the bright faces of his
happy children were around the hearth
stone; the other tottered along with
trembling steps to the wretched hovel,
where his pale-faced wife awaited his
return. The light flashed forth from
the rich man's mansion ; but the beg
gar's home was desolate. _ .
Follow now and tell me which of the
two was above the other; the one in his
wealth or the other in his rags!
Through the whole of that weary
night, did the beggar and his wife sit
musing over the past, and looking for
some light in the future. Above, itruAnd
them, on all sides they beheld nothing
but the gloom which no ray might pene
trate ; nothing but the impenetrable ob
scurity which is ever resting upon the
wretched and the outcast. Fur God
knows, God knows, if we do nor, tact
at all times, even at this moment, in
marry a desolate home, by many a cheer
less hearth, there are strong men bowed
beneath the weight of an overwhelming
despair; trembling women, pitting away
in great despondency and bright-eyed
little children growing pale and ghastly
from want of bread.
God knows, God knows, that even
upon our neighbors and our friend,,
possibly upon the next door, there
resting the cold, relentless hand of paver- '
ty, that poverty of which we can form
no true conception, until we shall find
ourselves like them over the last dead •
ember, and famishing like them for loud.
God knows that in the crowded city,
thousands die and are buried without an
epitaph, whose path through life was
one of sorrow, who struggled on bravely
perhaps and cheerfully, and never came
up from the darkness about them, but
died of a weary heart.
Gould we enter into the homes so near
us; go like the angels into every haunt
of wo and grief, and touch the lips of
the wretched one there, what tales of
agony should we hear. One would tell
ue of sweet dreams of his sinless boy
hood ; tell us how he started in life, all
gladly sad gaily and with no fear of the
unknown future; how, for a time, the
breeze was fair, and the sky blue, and
the ocean calm, and with his flag thrown
out upon the gale, he spEd along bravely
nil rapidly, until his voya : e was nearly
over, when. just as he caught sight of
the desired port; saw its temples and
si:iret glittering in the sunlight ; heard
the music of the harp, and the voices of
dm singers wafted from its streets; just
as the last billow was bearing him upon
it, maim to his destined anchorage;
j,it then, just then, alas ! alas! the
storm came down and the billow dashed
him back, and the rudder give way, and
his gallant vessel was carried out again,
ill crushed and broken, a thousand
il~
leagues into the sea. He would tell us,
perhaps, how that storm passed by, and
the son shone out as brightly as before,
and the sea became calm again, and that
once more with One sky above him, he
sped along toward the haven. But again
the storm came down, and again, and
again, until at Itngth his brave and gal
lant barque was thrown high upon the
rocky reef, and left, a solitary hulk, to
moulder in the sun.
Another would tell his tale of love.
flow the sweet being whom he worship
ped, the idol to which his yearning
heart gave homage, loved hint and bless
ed him for many a long and pleasant
year; but that before long her cheek
grew pale, and her eye dim; and that
now his only solace in life is to go at
the twilight hour, and bending over the
grave where site lies sleeping in death,
hold communion with her spirit, and
pray to meet again in the silent land.
Still another, an old and feeble man,
leaning upon his staff, would tell perhaps
the saddest tale of all—that of a boy
hood unblessed, of a manhood wasted, of
nn old age comfortless and wretched.—
; He would tell that from his youth up, as
the days and weeks and months passed
slowly on, the gloom had deepened, anti
the guiding star gone out, and that now
he was only waiting God's good time
that he might part and be nt rest.
Such suffering ones are all around us.
Such tales of tvo have conic so often to
our ears that—God forgive us—we pass
them by unheeded and leave the start , .
ing to their untold agony, even as the
rich man did.
Through the whole of that long and
dreary night, as we have said, the beg•
gar and his wife sat musing though.t ,
fully, sometimes cheering each other
with words of hope, then again giving
away to tears; at, one time lured Into
forgetfulness of the sorrow, at another,
utterly desolate, as the full sense of their
situation burst upon them. A vision of
the past came over them, and in its light
they looked again upon the pleasant
memories of old, and heard again the
love-legends of their native valley. Once
more the woodbine wreathed the cottage
window, and through its leaves the che
quered light stole gently in upon their
home of joy. Once more the rose was
shedding around its rich fragrance, and
the meek lily bowed in the summer
breeze; and as the lily bowed without,
and the light stole calmly in, thry heard
the prattle of their child and were
blessed.
But suddenly, amid their dreams,
there came a ghastly phantom form—
the speetre of their present and most
woful poverty. How it followed and
haunted and cursed them, peering into
their very faces, driving the warm blood
back again to their hearts, reminded
them that the cottage was deserted, and
the window broken in, and the woodbine
blasted, and the rose withered, and the
lily trodden down, and their sweet babe
lying cold and lonely in its little grave.
Thus passed the solitary vigil—and
ns the grey light came stealing through
the easement, the beggar started 1 4 p,
imprinted n kiss upon the pale brow of
his wife, and went forth into the silent
street with the spirit of a stern resolve
upon him. . .
. .
Come now with me to the home of the
man who had so scornfully refused him
I a pittance in the hour of his extreme
necessity. Come, sit by the fireside and
see the red light flash back from the
polished furniture ; look upon all the
gorgeous appliances of wealth and ease ;
li , ten to the sweet music; breathe the
perfume finite. from the unseen censors,
• behold all that unbounded wealth can
purchase—then judge whether with all
his wealth, God's b lessing . rested upon
that proud and heartless man.
The next morning his magnificent
conch bore him away to his counting
room. As he passed down the busy
streat, he caught sight for a moment of
man clothed in raps, yet knew not it
was the very one he had spurned front
him the night before. Again, as he stood
at his desk. that form went by the win
dow; and again, and again, until at length
it became a familiar sight to see that
same forsaken, sorrowful roan go past t,,
his humble daily toil. Before long the
merchant could perceive that his rags
had given puttee to better clothing, and
his lank of sorrow changed to one of
joy and thankfulness—yet all the while
he knew not the friendless beggar.
Meantime a change had taken place
in his own fortunes. Silently, but snre
ly, day after day his wealth was leaving
him. His ships were lost at sen—the
banks had failed—his speeulations were
unfortunate and ruin looked him in the
face. The curse hail come!
Years had passed away, when one
winter night, but a few weeks since, a
beggar stood egain at the door of that
proud dwelling, and was admitted, and
clothed, and fed, and rendered comfort
able. By Foote strange magic a most
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, JULY 24, 1849.
wonderful chattge had been wrought.—
The door which fur so long a time had
been closed to every form of human
want ; which had a thousand times de
nied admittance to the wretched and the
outcast, was now thrown open to wel
come and assist them. They were
greeted warmly and,cheerfully, and the
hest robes were put upon them, and
every dispondiug man and sad woman,
and forsaken little child, as they crossed
the threshhoid, prayed for a benison
upon that house and its ore ipant.
'['he miserable man who now stood
there asking alms had stood there be
fore, but not AS u suppliant ; had looked
around upon the lofty walls a thousand
times, but not with his present tearful
gaze. He was once the owner of that
stately mansion, within which he now
so !imbly bent for bread ; and the ;non
to whom his urgent appeal was nude,
was the very man from whom, in the
days of his prosperity, he had turned
so carelessly away. Their circum
stances had changed. God's blessing
had gone forth with h;nd whom men
would not assist : God's curse attended
him who left his fellow man to die.
And thus it is forever. Say what we
will, deny it as we please, the blessing
of God does rest upon the' chadtable;
the curse of God doe:" fallow the unfeel ,
intr. The bond of brotherhood may not
be broken'.
So Heaven helli xis, not , : and ever, to
bear the burdens of the poor—and do
it joyfully. Fur so shall thousands look
op from their Wretchedness, and thank
Clod for the angels he has sent—the
cheerful heart—Tua Ore Ham).
DAVID DA SII WOOD'S ADVEN.
TUBE ,
EY MRS. JULIET ii. CAMPBELL.
Mrs. Smith we, a superb woman!—
So declared the doting Job Smith, and
so said at score of lovers, as they anath
ematized Job's success. How she hap
pened to throw herself awa'y upon sech
n plodding, dull looking fellow, was very
surprising, but these beauties take un
accountable freaks.
As we have nlways been in Airs.
Smith's confidence, and happen to pos
sess the key to her unaccountable choice,
we will, as an act of friendship, divulge
along with some other little matters,
for the satisfaction of her traducers.
Mrs. Smith did not fall m love with
such a common place sort of fellow as
Job Smith, that's certain. No young
lady ever did such a thing! His neck
cloth was too fur behind the times ; he
wore neither moustache or imperial, and
was shockingly inattentive in the matter
of fans and packet handkerchiefs, there
fore tt could not be expected.
But such a magnificent creature as
Miss Amelia Wilton was not without a
lover of the most approved pattern.—
There was a certain David Dashwood,
who found favor in the lady's eyeq, and
amused himself for a whole season,
swearing almost bible oaths, about de
voted attachment, eternal con.laney and
a gmat many more such staple commo
dities, in which young men are prover
bial dealers. But when the firm of
Baywater Sz Co. failed , the dis
interested David dit-appeared, the evil
spirit who connselled him only knows
where, giving Miss Wilton an opportu
nity of discovering that her "gallant,
gay Lothario" was not to be relied upon.
The lady, after a fortnight's weeping,
steeled herself into indignation, and de
rived much more comfort from the har
dened than the "theltine, mood " In her
own mind denouncing him as a worth
less poppy, she resolved to steer clear
of all such sweet youths, in future, and
consoled herself with humble, unpre
tending Job Smith, who was the very
antipodes of Davy Dashwood.
It . will be seen ilia% Miss Smith was a
woman of sense, and she never repented
of her choice ; not even when her cido
vent !over returned, after an absence of
four or five years, disposed to be as ar
dently attentive as ever. The lady felt
that she knew her man, and maniged
hint with much discretion and sense.
"The days are growing intolerably
'mtp;!" she politely remarked, after hav
ing endured him fur above an hour.
"All days are alike to the miserable,"
insinuated David.
I am sorry to hear you nre so mis•
ernble; pray tell me your complaint, and
I probably can suggest a remedy."
"Can you not dismal"
. .
.1 sho - uld judee from your complexion
that you were bill-ious, harmonized Mrs.
Smith."
'the baffled Dovid bit his lip, but re•
newed the charze.
" Yon have changed, Amelia, or you
world know the cause of my suffering.s.
You behold s victim of unrequitted
love."
Pardon my obtuseness," said the
lady, sump/Inning all her tact and cour
age for the purpose of defining her po-
sition. "Marriage does nut change one,
;1 posvess nu relish whatever for love af••
David looked uncertain whether to
renew the charge, and Airs. Smith inti
mated that household aliitirs required
her attention elsewhere.
"till !" ,ighed the stupid inemornm,
" you were made fur better things!—
uch beauty should be sees, admired,
ad -red P'
"I trust I urn adored by my h • , sliand
and -children," Ainel:a replied, hoping
those talismanic words would protect
her from further insults. "And a wife
desires no matter lot than to he allowed
to minister to the comfort of those she
loves."
" Can it be possible," exclaimed Dash
wood, incredulously, "that such u being
can content het self with such a life !
Have you no regrets fur all you have
relinquished 1"
I . have relinquished nothing, sir,"
said Airs. Smith, with dignity. If you
mean tire society of girlhood, it is as
distasteful and unmeaning as the socie
ty of my childhood. If you allude to I
lovers, they are silly, uninteresting and
intoierable ; and I rejoice that the name
I bear has power to protect me from
their impertinence. Arid now sir, good
morning," and the indignant
swept Iron) the apartment.
Like the Irishmen), who was uncere
moniously ejected Irtnn the stairs, Dash
wood understood that he was expected
to depart ; but lie could not conceive it
possiule that Amelia was really indiffer
ent to his attractions. Ite remembered
the days when she leaned on his arm in
all the conadence of early love; and he
would not believe that all her youthful
tenderness had laded from her heart.—
Her conduct was the result of pique, ne
reasoned, of duty—anything but hid if
leaence—tind then to pretend to be did
of such an old here as !"
One day when the hi it s were at
disnier, a note was brought to the
which she ,•cacti lauded to her Ito.-
; band.
"1 do not deserve to be tormented
thus," said she, a•hiie tears of indigua
tion suflused her beautiful eves.
Smith regarded her with surprise, and
read as foli,,ws:
1 will call this evening at twilight—
if you are faithful to your early love,
receive toe by that soft, uncertain lizht.
DAsit WOOD."
"Nonsense, Amelia, the fellow's a
fool," stud Smith. " 111 gi•re necessary
orders to the servants, and take care that
you shall nu longer be annoyed by his
impertinence."
Many a fiery husband would have
horsewhipped the etlender, and thus
given a ruinous publicity to the affair.
Not so with Mr. !•ipitli.
The lover ruin: at the appointed time
and was ::bon's into the parlor, ~ .here
the twilight was deepened and darkened
by the window drapery. Airs. Smith
was abroad, but her husband demurely
summoned her handmaid.
• Dinah your mistress is suffering from
headache and sore throat carry her
velvet ribbon and broach, and fasten
them about her neck. Stay—do not
carry a light, and tread softly. You will
find her en the sofa in the parlor."
The colored girl went in search of the
ribbon, and her toaster stole noiselessly
into the back parlor, to note the result
of the directions. Presently Dinah en
tered, and paused a moment at the door,
then perceiving a figure in reclining at:
titude oa one of the sofns, she lightly
advanced and stooped over her supposed
mistress, for the purpose or adjusting
the ribbon. Mr. Dashwood recognized
the shadowy outline of u female figure,
he fe't the soft touch of an arm about
his neck, and the measure of his joy was
full. lie ardently returned the supposed
embrace, whet' Mr. Smith quickly drew
a match along the wall, and applied it
to the gas-burner, beside which he had
statioued himself. 'l•he apartment was
illuminated with a flood of light, and
revealed the affrighted negress strug
gling in the arms of her per thmeious
lover. Mr. Dashwond released his pris
oner as Mr. Smith advanced.
1 beg you will not allow me to dis.
turb you,' , salt Smith blandly,
Dashwoud stood fur a moment con
founded, and then rushed into the street,
where lie was received with uprorious
merriment by half a dozen of the P
club, who had surrounded the window
for the purpose of witnessing his inter
view with Mrs. Smith.
The discomfitted heti) departed in the
niOit boat. ~ n d was never heard of af
terward; while Mr. Job Smith preserved
to this day, as mementoes of his prev
pitate flight, the hat, gloves and cane, as
well as
"The oint. he left behind him."
TnE Pcow.—lts one shnre in the bank
of earth is worth ten in the bank of
paper
0n:r144:
Sporting with Female Affection.
Alrin cannot act a more perfidious port,
Than use his utmost efforts to obtain,
A confidence in order to deceive.
Honor and integrity ought to be the
leading principle of every transaction
in life. These are virtues highly requi
site, notwithstanding they are too fre
quently disregarded. Whatever pur
suits individuals are in quest of, sinceri
ty in proiession,steadfasthess in pursuit,
;aid punctuality in discharging engage
ments, are indispensibly inetimbetit. A
man of honest integrity, an l upright in
his dealings with his fellow creatures,
is sure to gain the confidence and ap
plause of all good men ; while he who
ets from dishonest and designing prin
ciples, obtains deserved contempt. Dis ,
honest proceedings, in word or deed, are
very offensive to, and unjustifiable in
the sight of God and man, even in trivi
in but much more so in consequential
The MOM perfect uprightness
is requisite between man and man, tho'
it is ton often disregarded, and is much
more between the sexes. Every pro
fession of regard should be without dis
suielding, every promise inviolate, and
every engagement faithfully discharged.
No one ought to make any ofliirs or pre.
tensions to a lady before he is in a great
measure certain that her person, her
temper and qmililications suit his cir
cumstances, and agree perfectly with
his own temper and way of thinliing.—
Far a similarity of mind and manners is
very necessary to render the bands of
luv, permanent, and these of marriage
happy.
6, Afarriatte the happiest state of life would be,
it bunds were only joined where hearts agee.'
The man of uprightness and integrity
of heart will not only observe the beau
ties of the mind, the goodness of the
heart, the dignity of sentiment, and the
delicacy of wit, butt will strive to fix his
alfCetions on such permanent endow.
meats, before he pledges faith to any
Indy.
Fie looks upon marriage as a business
of the greatest importance in life, and a
change of condition that cannot be un
dertaken wills too much reverence and
deliberation.
Therefore he will not undertake it at
random, lest be should precipitately
involve himself in the greatest difficul
ties. He wi,lies to act a conscientious
part, and consequestly cannot think (not
with ytaud ing it is too much countenanc
ed by ciisto,n) of sporting with the af
fections of the fair sex, nor even of pay
ing his addresses to an y on e till he i 3
perfectly convinced his own are fixed on
just principles.
All imaginable caution is certainly
necessary before hand ; but after a man's
profession of regard, and kind services
and solicitations have made an impres
sion on a female heart, it is no longer a
matter whether he perseveres i.t , or
breaks ofFltie engagement. For he is then
particularly dear to her, and reason,
honor, justice, all unite to oblige him to
make good his engngetnent. When the
twitter is brought to such a crisis, there
is no retreating without manifestly dis
turbing her quiet and tranquility of mind;
nor ran anything but her loss of virtue
ji.stily her desertion. Whether mar
rive has been expressly promised or
not, it is of little signification. For if
he has solicited and obtained her affec
tions, on supposition that he intended to
tnarry her, the contract is, in the sight
of heaven, sufficiently binding. In snort,
the man who basely imposes on the hon
est heart of an unsuspecting girl, and,
after winning her liffections by the pre
vailing rhetoric of courtship, ungener
ously leaves her to a bitter sorrow nail
complaining, acts a very dishonorable
port, and is more to be detested than a
common robber. For private treachery
is much more heinous than open force ;
and money must not be put in competi
tion with happiness.
PitorEssioN:AL.—'My dear boy,' said a
kindhearted school mistress to an unusu
ally promising scholar, whose quarter
was about up—My dear boy, does your
lather design that you should tread the
intricate and thorny path of the profes
sions—the straight and narrow way of
the ministry, or revel amid the flowery
field of literature 1' mann,' replied
the juvenile prodigy,tdad says he's go
ing to set me to work in the tatur patch.'
Mont REMOVALS NEEDED.—A Wash
ington correpondent of the New York
Tribune states that of the 50,000 office
holders in the Union there are yet prob
ably 15 Loco Teens to every ‘Vhig,a nm
jority of whom have nut only grown
rich and corrupt upon the spoils but
have become bald in the service. If
the Administration should spend twelve
months in nticing. removals it is not
probable that the patronage of the Gov
ernment would at the end of that time
be more than equalized.
VOL. XT V, NO, 28
FATITER MATHEW AND AMMUCA.- The
eminent Irish divine has written a letter .
to. the Mayor of New York, returning
thanks to the a thorities and people of
that city for their generous reception of
him. The following extract is worthy
of attention
"I have seen your majestic rivers dot
ted with richly freighted vessels, hear•
ing the tevning produce ot year luxuri
ant soil to fur ditant nations ; and oh,
sir, I could not look on these winged
messengers of peace and plenty, without
associating with them the magnanimous
bounty of a brave people to an afflicted
nation.
.•1 have visited your busy warehouses ;
your thronged streets and bustling tho
roughfares, ind have been forcible struck
with those external evidences of mercan
tile greatness and prosperity which sha
dow forth the high commercial destiny
that yet await your already glorious re ,
public. I have seen in the cumfort and
abundance enjoyed by all, in the total
absence of squalid poverty, and in the
liberal remuneration which awaits
est toil, proofs of prosperity, which con ,
tract strikingly with scenes that have
often harrowed my soul in that poor old
country, which, trodden doit•n and op ,
pressed es she is, is still the land of my
birth and of my affections. I have via ,
itA your god-like institutions, upheld
with a munificence worthy of your migh ,
ty republic, in which you imitate at an
humble distance the mercy of the Re
deemer, making .`the blind to see, the
dumb to speak." I have minutely in
spected their internal arrangment, and
witnessed, with intense satisfaction, the
philanthropic system, and the absence
of all religious exclusion on which those
asylums, sacred to humanty, are bused
land conducted. I fervently pray, that he
"who holds in his hands the destinies
of nations" may make yours wort! y of
the favors Ila has bestowed; and with
pure hearts, pure hands, and sleepless
vigilance, that you may guard end de
-1 fu•nd to the end of time, the great charge
he has committed to your keeping."
A Wm; inn country bar-room, where
each man was relating the wonderful
tricks they had seen performed by Sig•
nor ltiitz, and the rest of the conjuring
family, expressed his contempt for the
whole tribe, declaring that he could per
form any of their tricks, especially that
of beating a watch in pieces and canto ,
ring it whole.
It being doubted, he demands a trial.
Several watches were at once procured
for the eNperitneut.
"There," said, he, 'there are the pie
ces.' "Yes," all exclaimed, " now let's
see the watch."
Re used Vet-ions mysterious words,
shook up the fraaments, and nt length
put down the mortar and pestle, obser•
vinfy.:
I thoup-Itt I could do it, but by
George, I can't."
FATTENTNa HOGS.—Farmers otight to
know that pigs of any of the late int ,
proved breeds, if well fed all the time,
con be made heavy enough by December
and January, (say from 190 to L3O lbs
average net weight) to bring the best
price the packers give for any ; and
that, too, at less cost to the farmer than
in any other way that includes an extra
wintering..
The most dr , i-•',; • to the gen
erality of 1..nr!0•. iu c the English
market has h• . ; frened to us, are those
weighing from I to '250, fat and small
boned.—Ohio Cultivato .
To-morrow those that are now gay
may be sad ; those now walking, the av-
Imes of pleasure may be the subjects of
sorrow; those on the mountain summit
may be in the valley ; the rosy cheek
may have the lilly's hue ; the strong
may falter ; death may have come.
WIsCONSIN ORATOR, who was
lately delighting his audience with il
lustrations of our country's progress,
used the following amphatm remarks:
"Fellow-citizens—the to l of civiliza
tion is now exactly where the front ears
iv is no more') sixty years ago." The
rein irk was received with boisterous
cheers.
BACKSUDING.—The Pittsburg Mer
cury, recording the marriage of a Miss
IIoLMEs, President of the Martha IVash
ington Total Abstinence Society, to Mr.
ANDREW Hoax, appends the following :
Fair Julia lived a Temperance maid,
Aud preached its beauties night anti morn;
But still her wicked neighbors said
She broke her pledge and tom(• a Horn.
[?By stx qualities may a fool be
known anger without cause, speech
without pro fi t, change without motive,
inquiry without nn odject, putting true
in a stranger,
1 1'
foe.—arab Prorerd.