HIS FATHER'S SON.
By E. A. WHARTON,
Lawrence K. Neville, Jr., aged six,
willed his Impatient way through the
Jfont hall and out upon the piazza,
tareful, evem then, to keep on the rug
ad to close the screen door softly. For
upstalro In a darkened room Muvver-lover
lay In care of a white-capped nurse,
who was perpetually putting her finger
to her llpe and making frantic ges
tures for silence If he so much as
thought aloud.
Baby Bister walled continually, and
Boy resentfully wondered why nurse
didn't make her keep still. He was
ure that kind of a noise must dis
turb Muvver-lover far more than a
Httle whistling and slamming of doors.
But perhaps It was because she was a
lady-baby, he thought, as he settled
himself to watch for Daddy. Folks
had to be polite to ladles. He'd like
to ask Muvver-lover, but they hadn't
let him see her for days and days. Al
leys before when she had been sick he
had been allowed to tiptoe in and rub
her head, and she had said It made her
better. But then there had been no
cross nurse.
The lad leaped to his feet as his
father came In sight, and raced to
meet him. Daddy would make every
thing clear. The man's strong hand
closed over the small brown one, and
Neville smiled down into the wistful
upturned face; then straightway all
but forgot the child's existence. And
Boy, skipping along to keep pace
with his father's swinging stride, for
the first time in his short life found
Paddy unresponsive. As they ascend
ed the steps, Neville roused from his
abstraction to hear Lawrence say:
"Is It 'cause she's a lady-baby, Daddy,
and we must be polite to ladles?"
"That's exactly it, Boy;" he an
iwered the last clause of the question.
'Men must always be polite and con
derate to ladles under all circum
stances. Run out now and play, and
W very quiet." A perfunctory kiss
trapped upon the lad's cheek, and Dad
ly tiptoed up-stalre.
Boy gazed after him with a queer,
choky feeling in his throat till the
door to his mother's room closed be
hind him. Then he stood still, trying
to understand 'What it all meant. Had
he done something to displease Daddy?
And didn't Muvver-lover love him at
all since sister came? He clenched
his fists and winked hard. He wouldn't
cry! If they didn't care, he wouldn't
either. v
A shrill whistle sounded at the gate
and he ran out to meet the boy who
at Just across the aisle at school.
"No, I can't have anyone come here,
because my mother's sick," he ex
plained with an odd little assumption
of dignity. "I'm sorry, too, for It's
lonesome when your folks are sick."
Returning, he went to the kitchen
door. He wondered at black Susan's
tender manper and at her muttered
Tore li'l lamb!" as he dragged his
feet up the back stairs. The playroom,
ever he kitchen, was fitted with all
sorts of things that boys like. There
were a few Bimple tools that Daddy
.was teaching him to use, and appar
atus for light gymnastics, for Boy's
parents cherished theories as to train
lug children. Just now the room
was crowded; bis bed had been moved
from his pretty room next to mother's,
and there was a cot, where Susan slept
10 100k after him.
In one corner were the toys that he
was beginning to consider too bauylsh
for a six-year-old; chief among these
was a rag doll. To Boy, Moll's bowed
lead and dejected air indicated grief
at being thus cast aside, and with ready
lympathy he tcok her in his arms and
tat down to meditate.
He was almost happy as be ran
town-stairs at Susan's call. He and
Daddy would have a chat over dinner,
and then it would be time to go back
to school, where there would be a de
lightful half-hour in which he could
yell and whistle to his heart's content.
But Daddy did not appear. Susan ex
plained, as she brought his soup and
pushed Boy's chair closer to the table,
ITo' paw can't come now. He tole
lie to give yuh yo' dinner an' sen yo'
Jack to school, lest yuh git lade."
As he ate his solitary meal. Boy
iron de-red why Susan's cooking; didn't
taste as good as usual. Evem his fav
orite pudding lacked flavor. Then ho
rendered why Daddy didn't come, and
why they got that baby, anyhow. To
be sure. If Dcddy and Muwer-lover
really wanted her, why he'd try to
want her, too. But It really didn't
seem to him they needed a baby.
He clambered down from the table
and went back to the playroom, for
a last loow at Moll, the only member
Df his small world that had not failed
Vim. He reluctantly laid her on his
ed, and was turning away, when a
judden thought Btruck him. Why not?
Jt was Friday, and teacher had ex
pressly said at noon that they might
bring their dolls If they liked. He
was sure Moll would like it . better
' than being shut up there alone.
Moll was essentially a boy's doll
from her sturdy, tightly-stuffed arms
and legs to the cut and quality of her
substantial garments, One lnstlnc-
tlvely felt that she, too, should have
had her woolly locks cropped and have
been put Into trouserss. Boy tucked
her comfortably under bis arm and
hop-eklpped along thb walk and out
on the street , . '
A blue-eyed, befrilled angel'"trbm
frvw cw i1p.iMntr by with
equally befrilled doll In her arms. She
was In the "high first," and had been
Boy's sworn ally for at least three or
four weeks that they had been neigh
bors. Now she stopped. "Is It a boy
doll?" she asked, holding out her
bands. "I should think1 you'd rather
have a boy-doll," she added, as she
returned Moll. "This one is nice and
big and and cuddly, but she's kind of
fat, and needs some new clothes."
A group of girls trilled, and she
tripped away to Join them. Boy turned
Moll over and surveyed her critically.
New clothes, indeed! Weren't the
skirt and Jacket made of bis own best
suit, and the stocking-cap and leg
gings exactly like his own? What
more could a boy want? Girls were
different. He supposed baby-sister
would want a doll like Edith's when
she got big. He tucked Moll up more
comfortably and trudged on. Two or
three big girls passed and chaffed Boy
about the doll. He was tempted to be
saucy, but remembered Daddy's teach
ings In time to tighten his Hps and pre
tend not to hear. "Men must always
be polite to ladles," he reminded him
self as he snuggled Moll closer.
Just before he reached the school-
grounds a little chap from the kinder-
garden bumped against him with a
sneering remark about "girl-boys."
Boy's face was so red that the freckles
on his nose looked white, and the
hands thrust deep In his pockets were
clenched till they hurt. But the boy
was littler than he and Daddy said
that only cowards hurt little fellows.
Boy backed against a tree, and,
looking quite over the smaller one's
head, pursed his lips into a whistle.
He was conscious that It wasn't much
of a tune; the sound wouldn't come,
somehow, but it served.
Others gathered, some to Join In the
fun, some to see fair play. Boy whls-
tied calmly on till Pug Walters, at least
three sizes larger and the bully of
the primary grades, stole behind him,
and shouting: "Hey, sissy, lend us
your doll!" snatched Moll from under
his arm and held her aloft by one leg.
Let's have a game of football, hey?"
He held the doll out and drew back his
foot, but before he could kick, a tor
nado of arms and legs struck him, and
the doll was forgotten in an attempt to
defend himself.
Now Boy was no mollycoddle, In
spite of the alliterative titles and his
beloved doll. Among Daddy's theories
was one that every male human be
ing should be able to defend himself,
and Boy had been learning to do that
about the time he got steady on his
feet.
The units of the yelling circle that
formed as If by magic saw no occa
sion to interfere, and Boy, unconscious
ly giving vent to the loneliness and
heartache of the preceding days, as
well as the rage that had been accu
mutating over the Insults to himself
and Moll, pommeled bis antagonist
with vim cheered on by his partizons.
It was a fight to the finish, with no
referee to call time. Back and forth
they went, now one gaining and now
the other. Boy forced Pug to the edge
of the ring and was about to strike
once more, when a sudden silence dis
concerted him. Looking up, he found
Teacher close beside him and a grieved
droop to the corners of her mouth, and
turning his head to avoid her eyes, he
saw Daddy at the outside of the ring,
watching In, puzzled silence.
Miss Haines turned to the biggest
one of the group, "You might have
prevented this," she murmured re
proachfully. "You know how we de
pend on you big boys." She pushed
Pug toward him. "Since you didn't
see fit to Bto? the fight, you may take
this boy to the cloakroom and put him
In order, and then take him to his
teacher."
Boy, narrowly watching Miss Haines
thought he detected a flash of satis
faction In her glance at Pug's rather
swollen face. But he told himself
that he must be mistaken; Teacher
couldn't be anything but sorry over a
fight Daddy, now
Someone had picked up the doll, and
Miss Haines was brushing and shaking
It as though her one object in life
wai to render It Immaculate. When
nil the boys had gone, she extended
her hand without a word, and Boy
took it, feeling himself grow smaller
every Instant. Daddy stood aloof, as
though merely an observer. Gould it
be possible that he did not mean to
interfere, to explain? Teacher would
bo kind, of course and she would mean
to be Just, but she couldn't understand;
ladies never did, not even Muvver-lover.
He'd have to he punished, he knew
but he wouldn't mind that much ii
Daddy would only go away. His lips
v i re beginning to tremble, and If he
should cry, Daddy would be so
ashamed.
Neville's hand closed reassurlng'ly
over the dirty, bloodstained one that
stretched toward him in half-conscious
appeal, but loosened as Miss Haines
brought a basin end proceeded to wash
away all removable signs of conflict.
There was a lump at one corner of his
right eye. Boy thought It must be d'lrt,
and put ,up his hand to brush it oft.
Miss Haines pressed the cold cloth on
the spot and deftly applied a bit of
courtplaster to a cut on his chin
There was a bare place on his fist, too.
Miss Halnos dried his hands and face
on hef handkerchief and put her
arm around him. "Now, Lawrence,
ihM- me-tibout'' it. Who began the
fight?" .
No answer." "
"Did you hit him first?"
Boy nodded.
"You did?" Teacher gasped, and
Daddy's face grew stern. "Didn't he
do anything to you?"
Another nod.
'Call you names?"
A nod.
"Anything else?"
"Jerked Moll away from me and was
going to kick her."
MIes Haines looked puzzled. Daddy
interposed. "Why did you bring your
doll to school, Lawrence?"
Miss Haines said we might, cause
It's Friday afternoon."
Bit by bit the story was elicited, and
presently. Boy, his head on Faith
Haines' shoulder, was sobbing out the
Incoherent details. Daddy caught the
words "lonesome Muvver sick, Daddy
didn't care, Moll loneeome, too,"
and when Boy regained sufficient self
control, to lift his head and turn, a
shamed little face to his father's with
a " 'Scuse me, please. Daddy. I didn't
mean to," the slender throat was etui
clutching. "I I" Neville's own eyes
were misty and his voice not entirely
steady.
Somehow the lad found himself close
to his father's side, mopping his face
with the paternal handkerchief. Ne
ville rose. "I'll take Lawrence home
with me, Miss Haines, unless you think
it will be quite subversive of discipline.
He's hardly in condition for school"
his lips twitched as he scrutinized
"bumps" oa the Bmall face "and be
sides, I want to make a few facta clear
to him. It's been an anxious time at
home, but that's no excuse for me."
Boy tucked the doll under his arm
and snuggled his sound hand into bis
father's. "I s'pose maybe Moll's tired
and we'd better take her home first,"
he suggested In response to Daddy's
proposal of a trip to the Zoo. .
That was an afternoon to remember.
They walked past the schoolhouse
and througlv.the park beyond and stop
ped to watch the swans on the pond.
During the hour at the office that
Daddy craved as a favor, Boy curled
up In a big leather chair supremely
content. Then came hours at the Zoo,
when Just he and Daddy were alone in
a charmed world, where Daddy retold
his favorite "Just So" stories as they
wandered from place to place. And
without anything being said about It,
Boy came to know that he had bis
own place In Daddy's heart that not
all the baby sisters In the world could
oust him from, and that Muvver-lover
loved him Just as dearly as ever.
That evening, when he was all ready
for bed and feeling a little homesick
as he knelt to say his prayers be
cause Muvver-lover was not there to
hear him, Daddy came to say that he
might see her for a little while If he
would be very still Indeed.
Baby sister slumbered peacefully
while he stroked her cheek and kissed
the tiny fingers that clung to his. Moth
er had been told a part of the Btory,
The fight had Bhocked her at first, but
she had not been the one sister In a
band of sturdy brothers for nothing.
Boy climbed up and nestled Into his
old place beside her. He smiled con
tentedly as her fingers caressed hlB
bruises, while Bhe whispered: "He's
mother's comfort, her dear baby boy,
As he was slipping Into dreamland,
Daddy lifted him and carried him back
to his bed at the other end of the
hall. He cuddled closer and flung one
arm about Daddy's neck as the man
murmured: "He's Daddy's brave little
man." From the Ladles' World.
SOME PRICELESS TABLEWARE
Special Staff of Servants Required to
Handle Royal Service.
The table at which the King and
the Prince of Wales dined side by side
with President Fallleres' and M. Cam
bon was laden not with gold plate,
but with something much more valu
able a service of bleu de rol Sevres
china, so valuable that no price can
be put upon It. President Fallleres
had it specially sent across from the
Elysee, of which It is one of the most
artistic ornaments. Much of it dates
bnck to the oarly days of the famous
factory, and when one of the plates Is
broken a rigid Inquisition is held by
government officials Into the cause of
the accident. Indeed, so much value
is attached to the fragile ware on
which dinner was served that only a
special staff of servants, all experts
in handling It are allowed to touch a
single article. The china was brought
over in crates specially designed so
that no. piece can, unVss by the most
extraordinary mischance, suffer frcm
the roughness of a sea Journey.
The whole service is of tho most
beautiful description. The cehtreB are
white, with gold figuring, but the rims
for a couple of Inches are in the rich
inimitable blue called bleu de rol, ov
er which is sprayed the same gold fig
ures. The dessert was served on a
set of dishes of the same pattern, but
having on the rims ovals, each with
a hand-painted, exotic bird of brilliant
plumage. His Majesty drank his after-dinner
coffee from a cup made at
the Sevres factory in 1S58. The pat
tern follows the same lines of blue,
white and gold, but the inside is of
pure gold. So good Is the work of
the cups that, although their manufac
ture is rfor Sevres so recent as 1858,
they cannot be replaced with the same
perfection. The gold In them makes
them quite heavy to the hand. They
are among the most exquisite samples
of the potter's are in this particular
form in existence. Only the knives,
forks and spoons for the dessert ser
vice were of gold. These, too, show
ed such an artistic sense In the crafts
men that they were In keeping with
the china.
The menu was entirely prepared In
the Embassy kitchen by M. Briandt,
the chef there.
Montana during 1907 produced sap
rhlres worth 1229.800.
F
A Warning
Tke Misuse
Ey Woodrow Wilson,
President of Princeton University.
OR the first time In
eral feeling that issue Is now Joined or about to oe jumeu,
between the power of accumulated capital and the privileges
and the opportunities of the masses of the people.
The power of accumulated capital, as at all other times
and in all other circumstances, Is in the hands of a compara
tively small number of persons, but there is a very wide
spread Impression that these persons have been able in re
cent years, as never before, to control the national develop
- ,
i
ment In their own interest.
The contest that has resulted is generally said to be between capital ana
labor, but that Is too narrow and too special a conception of It. The contest
is rather between capital in all its larger accumulations and all other less
concentrated, more dispersed, smaller and mere economic forces in the land.
This process of segregation Is always a symptom of deep discontent.
No observant man can longer shut
ing forces in our modern society have broken Its unity and destroyed Its or
ganic harmony not because that was Inevitable, but because men have used
their power thoughtlessly and selfishly, and because legitimate undertakings
have been pushed to Illegitimate lengths.
The most striking fact about the
that the most conspicuous, the most readily wielded ana the most formidable
power is not the power of government, but the power of capital.
We have forgotten what the power
out what the power of capital means, and so we do not fear government and
are not Jealous of political pawer. We fear capital and are Jealous of its
domination.
There will be need of many cool heads and much excellent Judgment
amongst us to curb this new power without throwing ourselves back Into the
gulf of old (governmental) domination,
a practical way of escape.
Capital now looks to the people" like
they must deal as with a master, and not as with a friend. No one can mis
take the fact and no one knows better than the manipulators of capital how
many circumstances there are to Justify that Impression. We can never ex
cuse ourselves from the necessity of dealing with facts. ,
I am sure that many bankers must
and the most criticised Interest of all is banking. The banks are, in the gen
eral view and estimation, the especial and exclusive Instrumentalities of cap
ital, used on a large scale. They stand
of the people, and put whatever comes
great captains of industry, the great
which are In the way to crush all competitors.
I shall not stop to ask how far this
are, In fact, singularly remote from the
from the farmer and from the small trader of our extensive countrysides.
I trust you will not think me Impertinent if I say that they (the bankers)
excuse thimselves from knowing a great many things which it would be man
ifestly to their Interests to know, and that they are sometimes singularly Ig
norant, or at least, singularly indifferent, about what I may call the social
and political functions of banking, particularly in a country governed by
opinion.
k
-r mm m
naroarians at nay
By J. T.
HE rrccn Cold lay
rolled the ocean, blue
liues great ladies and
to enjoy the game. So:ne sat in finely upholstered carriages,
drawn by magnificent horses, whose golden harness trap
pings glittered In the sunBhine; others sat in automobiles,
while others, clinging to the tradition of an earlier day,
were there on horseback. On the piazza of the club-house
flnelv eowned women and well-groomed men drank tea
while they watched swift-footed ponies, bearing their crimson and yellow clad
riders helter-skelter over the field. As for the game, It was a splendid show
they played well, those husky young fellows, with a skill and courage alto
gether admirable, giving the lie to the notion that wealth and dissipation
necessarily go hand in hand.
As I watched the game, admiring the skill of the players, and realizing
the magnificent surroundings in which they spend their lives surroundings
permitting of Infinite leisure for the cultivation of body and mind the words
of Matthew Arnold, in his beautiful apostrophe to Oxford, came to my mind.
"There are our young Barbarians at play." Arnold, It will be remembered,
referred to the upper, middle, and lower classes of English toclety as Barbari
ans, Philistines, and Populace. The aristocrats, he said, Inherited from the
Barbarian nobles, their early ancestors, that Individualism, that passion for
doing as one likes, which was so marked a characteristic. From the Barbari
ans, moreover, came their love of field sports, the care of the body, manly
vigor, good looks, and fine complexions. "Tho chivalry of the Barbarians
with its characteristics of high spirit, choice manners, and distinguished bear
ing, what is this," he asks, "but the commencment of the politeness of our
aristocratic class?" "There are our young Barbarians at play." That line of
Arnold's coming to my mind, which at that moment was contrasting the
scenes I have described, suggested the thought that despite the familiar words
In the Declaration of Independence, and our inherited repugnance to the idea,
we have an upper,, middle, and lower class In America. 'the Atlantic
Make Use
In Most Ccses, by a
age, It May
Ey H. IV.
I
HERE Is a great deal of low land'in every state. Most of it
will be reclaimed some time and made into good, productive
farm land, but there are places on almost every farm where
different treatment might work beneficially without any
special outlay. During these last three wet seasons there
have been many acres of low lands that could not be culti
vated, and consequently were waste lands. I want to make
a little suggestion as to how we can make use of these
T
lands. Sow them down with tame grasses. I nave gone
through many big sloughB that ran through two or three farms and noticed
that while one farmer had a fine stand of timothy hay right on the lowest
spot his neighbor, whose land wasn't any lower, let it go to weeds. One far
mer in particular hauled off two loads of this hay an acre, worth $S a load,
while his neighbor was paying taxes on the same kind of land and didn't get
a cent from It.
This timothy and clover will not only net a good income, but will Increase
the fertility of the soil, thus putting it In line shape for grain growing when
the wet season Is, over. Land worth $50 to $100 an acre Is too valuable to let
lie as waste land, when you can easily get $16 an acre out of it. The trouble
in such cases Is that such land has always been waste land, and the farmer's
attention has never been called to tho possibility of reclaininig it easily and
cheaply. Sometimes a shallow ditch through the lowest part will carry oil
most of the water quickly, thereby rendering a portion of the ground suitable
for certain crops. ,
Of course, the real remedy Is a thorough system of drainage, with tiles
running back well to the high grounds.
5
to Capital of
of Power
i
the history of America there is a gen
his eyes to the fact that the contest
actual organization of modern society is
of government means, and have round
from which we were the first to find
a force and Interest apart, with which
have realized that the most isolated
remote from the laborer, and the body
into their coffers at the disposal of the
masters of finance, the corporations
view of the banks Is true. But they
laborer and the body of the people,
m
Lincoln.
1
bright In the sunshine, while beyond
as the sky above It. About the side
gentlemen of fashion were gathered
7
of Swamp
Land ..
Proper System of Drain
Be Made to Fay.
Swope. -V
YOUNG WALTER 'SCOTT.
How the Boy of the'Canongate Told
8torle to Hit Comrades
The business office of a writer to
the signet, as a Scotch lawyer Is call
ed, is not an especially cheerful place
at any time, and the Interior of such a
room looked particularly cheerless on
a late winter afternoon In Edinburgh
in 1786. A boy of fifteen sat on a
high stool at an old oak desk and
watched the snow falling In the street.
Occasionally he could see people pass
ing the windows men and women
wrapped to their ears in plaid shawls
for the wind whistled down the street
so loudly that the boy could hear It,
and the cold was bitter. The boy
looked through the window until he .
almost felt the chill himself, and 'then
to keep warm, held his head In hie
hand and fastened nis eyes on the
big1 heavy leaved book In front of him
which bore the unappealing title Br
skine'a "Institutes." The type was
fine, and the young student had to
read each line a dozen times before
he could understand it. Sometimes bis
eyes would involuntarily close and
he would doze a few moments, only to
wake with a start to look quickly over
at another desk near the fire where
his father sat steadily writing, and
then to a table In the corner where a
very old man was always sorting pap
ers. The winter light grew dim, so dim
that the boy could no longer see to
read. He closed the book with a banc.
"Father."
"Yes, Walter, lad?" The lawyer
looked up from his writing and smiled
at the figure on the high stool.
"I'd best be going home; there's no
more light here to see by."
"A good reason, Walter. Wrap
yourself up warm, for the night la
cold."
Young Walter slid down from his
seat and stretched his arms and legs
to cure the stiffness in them. He waa
a sturdy, well built iaa, with tousled
yellow hair, frank eyes with a twinkle
In them, and a mouth that was large
and betokened humor. When he
walked he limped, but he held him
self so straight that when be was still
no one would have noticed the deform
ity. Five minutes later the boy was
plowing his way through the narrow
streets of the Canongate, the old
town part of Edinburgh that had aa
ancient a history of street brawls as
the Paris kennels. Nobody who could
help It was abroad, and Walter was
glad when he reached the door of his
father's house In George square and
could find shelter from the cutting
wind. The Scotch evening meal was
simple, soon over, and then came the
time to sit before the blazing logs
on the great open hearth and tell stor
ies. The older people were busy at
cards in another room, and Walter,
with a group of boys of his own age
who lived in the neighborhood and
liked to be with the lame lad, bad the
fireside to themselves. In front of the
fire young Walter was no longer the
sleepy student of Ersklne's "Insti
tutes"; his eyes shone as he told story
after story of the Scotch border, half
of them founded on old ballads or
legends he knew by heart and half the
product of his own eager imagination.
Whole poems, filled with battles and
hunts and knightly adventures be
could recite from memory, and his
eye for the color and trappings of
history was so keen that the boys
could see the very scenes before them.
They sat In a circle about him, listen
ing eagerly to story after story, for
getting everything but the boy's
words, and showing tneir fondness
and admiration for the romancer in
each glance. Walter was minstrel
and prophet and historian to the boys
of the Canongate by the winter fire, as
he was to be later to the whole nation
of Englishmen. From Rupert Sargent
Holland's "Historic Boyhoods" in St.
Nicholas.
On Commercial Politeness.
The man who solicits your adver-''
tlsement, the salesman who has sam
ples to exhibit, the life insurance agent
whose hair-trigger tongue pleads elo
quently for your family, even the se
ductive canvasser, who tries to in
veigle you liito buying a history of
the world In twenty-five volumes, can
be listened to for a courteous minute
or two and politely dismissed without
seriously clogging the wheels of busi
ness. Perhaps they may really have
something worth while to offer. Above
all, the tellers and the cashier of every
bank need a course in the art of
gracious expression. Why should the
depositor of money be regarded with
frowning suspicion, and why should
his mistake in indorsing checks wrong
side up or his failure to have his
books balanced regularly call forth
shouts of correctloa Instead of a few
words of kindly instruction? After
all, he Is only Ignorant or onlyfforget-
ful. No dark scneme ror deiraumng
the bank lurks behind his failure lo
follow tho bank's rules. Courtesy 13
Its own reward. It pays In personal
satisfaction, in minimizing friction,
in making friends and in raising yoi
in the eyes of your business associates.
Scientific American. '
City Linear Table.
, The city child was describing to
her friends a Very tall tree she bad
seen In the country.
"Oh, It was awful big," she said.
"Well, how big?" they asked.
"Three flights," come the answer.
New York Press.
Not a Bark.
Terrier Don't you have any dog
watch on this craft?
Tabby No. This is a cat boat,"
Uf o.