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ie JEWEW-‘mfia - \THE DEAD BEAUTY. m ung and. epings e y -with: trembling - hand; the- tea ils [sleepin ho here {i death's cold arms Ti ought -one 'moment front the- © \ crow ' {be éreeping. . And gaze where soo the: earth-worm.\ shall - Seo thit closed 'eye on. which | the, long g lash , , drops : [parted, Asif 'twere conscious life bad thence de- And her who there in trembling horror stoops Torkiss the lip of beauty, broken-hearted- Ob! mark 'that soul-wrung mather, as the i thread '. © {riven, That binds her daughter's raven hair is And as in maniac grief she-clasps the dead, And glues her lips to those which-bloom in eavend . <2 s Come hither thou who wear'st the wreath of Tame, * Thigh, \Whose soul is fraught with visions stern and What recks it for the. phantom of a name? \ . Coie ponder here, for thou'it born to diet [~ \Fo die? aye -as a spark quench'd by the sta - Thy-being shall goout, and thou wilt seem A dim thing on the waste of memory- '* Scarcely a thought-the shadow of 'a dream! And thou, fair girl, come to the place of death, Leave for a while the boist'rous scenes of ._ rairth; - R ife is a flame quench'd by-a single breath, . \ And thou a fragile creature of the earth! :- Look at thy sister clay-the Tong dark bair -~ 'That streams a pall o'er beauty's lifeless bo- sond 'Once floated gaily in the summer air |- As-thine does. now, till death destroyed life's blossom! Beloved and Toving, she has passed away ~ With the first frost that cold misforturie sent, Een as the snow in April's sunny day, |_, Thus melted out existence, and sho-went U; , to her God all r {given Whom fate's keen arrow pierces-aho was -e be for us amodel--and the love'; -fven! __ That blessed her here will sanctify in hea; How beautiful she was! her full blue aye ~ Swam with expression-shone with tender- tram as the dove ness- > And the long lash fell o'er it droopingly, As if it were to shadow the excess Of nature's beauty. . Innocence was her's, - Such as the fawns, all glad activity; And many bowed as beauty's worshippers, Oh God! that she should die thro' treachery! Aye! she has died -the night winds soon shall bring Above hegr grave a mournful requiem, And wild flowers breathe there with the voice of spring; Oh would to Heaven that she might come with them! <0\ -Come! look your last and kiss that icy brow- Aye-pour the soul in grief, for she was all That woman may be in a sphere so low; And now-oh! God-throw back the sable LOLOTTE gave Manly—claim; then an infant, to- ly‘gr’sislei, ent nor promised, and most ¥pligiougly was thiis promise fulfilled,'-. Frony 'that time } & she became a permanent resident in the | family pf Angpm Cinpman,-and devoted 'tion of-_bis,dau'ghter. b [from. the, world, and in the boson \| age that she was first placed at the __| at the house of Anson Chipman. , He dichtlady lay on | childish and -inticcent thirth,-made them' veating hor to watch over aventie-tonder treat her gale-companion was little Bi- ansia. . She was & charming child, and being the last legacy of a dying, sister, Elegnor soon found hef the object of her dearest affections. - When young, she was esteemed beautiful, and many had aspired to the honor of lrer land ;, but a disappointment, ' almost | in, childhood, made her equally indifferent to allyand she determined on a lifé of celibacy .- 'This determination was strengthened by the promise she had made her dying sister, to protect and watch over her int fant child. © -At the age: of fifteen,; Biansia-was-a | blooming and interesting 'girl, but no one ever thought her beautiful; which made all happy who looked on her, while her good sense and good nature never failed to please. 'It was at this boarding school where she. remained some months without visiting her pa- ternal roof. - During her absence, a dashing lawyer, by the nante of Ham- bledon, established himself in the vil: lage, and soon became a frequent guest was nearly thirty years of age, and pos- sessed an unusual share of personal ac- complishments} and his manners were full of that ease and persuasiveness, | which. are_more likely to ensnare the. female heart,. while the earnest gaze of his full dark eye seemed to bespeak un-. utterable,depths of feeling and devoted- ness. His person was uncommonly handsome, and his whole deportment cheerful \and - condescending ; - there seamed a kind of spell or enchantment in all his words and movements, which united the attention of all, and nothing was so much talked of as the interest- ing stranger. Eleanor Finch, though somew bat past her prime, was still the most beautiful woman in the village, and from her se- cleded and quiet life, she retained the appearance of much greater youth than she actually possessed. - Her mind was highly cultivated, and she possessed an P a ; of love, and to reflect seri saw [restless waves of the ocean. astonished t observations on malecoquettes. Biansia | own knowledge and experience with her so unusoal tbat it, didnot fors £¢> | freet#-confessed-the unpleasant suspi-] ter -and- dispositi was | to Tim as he wa . She was as dear to me as i tr [aind natu around thint. the family buat afew month friend whs compelled to make .gle-but a film was creeping id L omchis counterfance. Suddenly his looks over ; am. e—hechruush—él‘ihfixshe—ek was fast deépening into purple. I knov not, whether, at-first his sister percely ok her. seat at His side, pressed his lelipsto-her own, andthen; as Taur her melancholy eye rest fixedly up- hat she had ever believed his. declarations, 'and (Blushed at' weal; in having been ensnared ! his artifices; delicacy, however, and wounded pride, forbade her mentioning the subject to her niece, until the con- versation which is related.at the con- mencement of -our tale, and which 'she purposely 'introduced by making some was totally ignorant of her aunt's for- mer intimacy with Hambledon, and at frst considered her observations as o- riginating in the spleen and gapricg of an old maid ; but when left to her own. thoughts, she began to resolve the mat- ter more seriously, and, comparing her those of ber aunt; she very réasonably concluded that the latter was a much safer standard of conduct than the for- mer, and consequently resolved to make her a.confident in all- matters of fiapor- tance. No sooner was this resolution settled in her mind, than Hambigdon entered the room with his usual insin- uating grace, and solicited the pleasure of her company to walle a half hour in: the garden. - She hesitated at this pro- position, but on looking from her win; dow, and beholding every object bath- ed in the moon's pure brightness, and all things breathing quietness and hope, she suffered hita'to draw her arm thro' his, and lead her forth among the spir- its of flowers and fragrance ; she was, however, mlont and thoughntful--a man- cape the observation of Hambledon. He very tenderly: inquired the cause; but receiving only a common-place're- ply, be appeared decply concerped, and begged to be informed if he was so un- fortunate as to have lost her confidence. At this moment her eyes met his, and ch, there are few who could have with- stood that look ; so tender, so beseech- ing, so full of the very soul's devotion : She trembled; deeply reproached her- self for having for a moment distrusted him, and then in a burst of confidence, cions that had agitated her bosom. He bade her look on the broad face of the |anesessive shatows of gold-and. crimson mexpected voy ago to- So * His feelings were embi the thought -of-leaying. his children beind the point of embarking for promised to take them to and relationg. | _. >.. @ My departure was delayed two weeks.. During that period; Plived ufder the, same fool with the little ones, .that had been consigned to my charge. . For.a few days they were pensive and made frequent. inquiries for their absent'fa~ ther, but their sorrows were easily as- suaged, and regret for his absence chan- ged into a pleasant anticipation of his 'return. - The ordinary sorrows of child- hood are but dews upon the eagle's plu- iverpool, I| their friends |. [mage, which vanish atthe- moment, | pair: when the proud bird springs upward in- to the air to woo the first bedutiful flashes of the morning. _ The day for our-departure at last ar- rived, and we set sail on a quiet after- hoon of Summer. - It was a scene 'of beauty, and my heart fluttered as wild- ly and joyously as the wing of a young bird in spring-time. | It seemed in truth as if \man's control had stopped: with the shore,\ that was retréating behind us, and left the world of waters to give back the blue \of the upper skies as purely and peaceably as the first holy Sabbath of creation, | The distant hills bent their pale blue tops to the waters, | and, as the great sur, like the image of his: Creator, sunk down- -in=tho. west, and purple, came floapmg over the wa- ters, like barks from a fairy land. My young companions «gazed on these scenes steadily. and silently, and when the last tints: of the dim shore were melting into shadow, they took: each other's hands and a few natural tears gushed forth as an adieu to the land they had loved. o Soon after sun-set I persuaded my lit- tle friends to let me lead them to the cabin, and then returned to look out a- gain upon the ocean. | In about baif an hour, as I was standing musingly and apart, I folt my band gently pressed, and, on turning around, saw that the girl had stolen alone to my side. In a > i -bet umcommon- degree of-ease-and-grace-is conversation, which was accompanied $iscellancous. | * 1 _ From the Brockport Recorder. | | THE MALB COQUETTE. BY MISS WINCHESTER. \\Of all the characters of which I ev- er-heard,**-oxclaimed | the blooming daughter of Anson Chipman, \a male enquetta the last. _I have heard fo- charms and aminble q by thg most unaffected modesty. , With sky, and listen to the deep murmar of the ocean :-@That sky, ' hesaid, \shall as soon be hurled from its eternal throne it is not ve¥y remarkable that she should | attract the attention of Hambledon, not- withstanding the disproportion of their years. - She felt very lonely in the ab- sence of her niece, and the sociely and attention of this now guest seemed to fill un this vacuum in her heart; his atora,. and._that.ncaan -ha-wfeh from its everlasting bed, as Hambledon breathe aught but fidelity to the -bolov- ed of his heart.\ - Biansia was ashamed of the feelings she had indulged, and se- cretly censured her aunt for being as unjust as severe. 'This was a moment for which Hambledon had long sought. febched Leland. - AF first, it gleamed faintly and few moments, the evening star began to twinkle from the edging of a violet at intervals, but anon it came brightly out, and shone like a holy thing upon the brow of the evening, | The girl at my side gazed upon it, and hailed it with a tone, which told that a thought of rapture was at her heart, e in- quired, with simplicity and eagerness, and-to- which-we males stigimatised with this odious epi- thet, but that it should ever be applied to men, appears to mo sitogether ab- surd and ridiculous.\ \But why, my dear,\ calinly replied her aunt, who was a maiden lady, 'a- _bout thirty-five years of age: \cannot visits of friendship were received with a cordial welcome; but when heavow- ed a deeper sentiment, and entreated the assurance of a gencrous return, she turned coldly fromhim, declaring that love had pérished with her carly dreams, Land could never be revived. Hamble- He was aware that her feelings had been warmly. interested for another, and under such circumstances, to be capa- ble of removing. pure affection from its first object, and fixing it upon himself, and to know, that, for hin, a faithful lover had been rejected, his heart bro- whether, inthe; far} - were going, that same bright star would be-visible, and seemed to regard it as another friend, that was to be with her in her long and lonely journey, -The first week of our voyage was un- attended by any important incident.- _4 men be fickle, falso, and deceiving, as well as women'! Really, child, you must have a high opinion of your own sex, to conceive that they only are fal- 'lible,. - I-have seen more years than yourself, and know to the contrary.- You~will somé lay: learn that the other ~Ko# arg as treatheroifs aw they aro flat- tering.\ \Indeed aunt Eleanor,\ replied the artless Biansia, \you have drawn a me- Jancholy picture; but you would not don now exerted the utmost powers of his fascination ; he had ever been ac- ken, and all hn earthly -hopes blighted; imparted great pleasure; but the crown of his felicity ever was, to be assured customed to victory over the female heart, and the thought of being repuls- ed by one so much past the heyday of her charms, was too mortifying to be endured, and he deterinined fo 'renew his swit with increased ardor. In this he succeeded but too well, for his un- suspecting victim soon found that his society was not only agreeable, but ab- solutely necessary to her peace. That] ------ Hfansia_foouked on heraunt, as a play- but when she “J consent that all men aro coqueltes 1\ « ar o ee Unis _----\No returned the other, \there are _. _- - -snen who have hearts too full of honor, | and feelings too noble to trifle with the 'Fappiness of the dependent beings who Took to them for protection ; yet, there .are those who possess a great: share of personal attractions, and yet they know of no satisfaction superior to that which they find $f sporting with the best and holiest Togs of the female heart.\ deep spring of affection which liad been Lso dead, now revived in her beart, and was bestowed on a living object with all the ardor of its first devotedness. Indeed, she felt that she had never truly loved before ; for so long had she been seclu- ded from the world,.and shut up in the silence of her own apartment, that the pleasures of society burst upon her like the beautiful vision of another existence, wed. the memory of the 'that he had interested the best and ho- liest feelings of an innocent heart, which \The sea was, at times, wild andstormy;| but again it would sink to repose, and spread itsolf out in beauty to the verge of the distant horizon. * On the eighth day, the boy arose pale arid dejected, mod in the ptemal secrecy of its own ghterxfen, lieding afi’fl‘vléi'yygnf‘ ror look of indifference, and grasping at ev- ery smile/or glance of tendotness to fas- ten some endearing hope upon it. Such was the character of Hambledon, and such his honorable motives for soliciting the society and favor of the fair sex. It is true he met with some who had suspect his motives and beware of his intrigues; but he generally bore off the palm of victory, and secretly stoned the virtuous hearts he had desolated.- He himself had never felt the slightest influence of pure and disinterested sit- tachment; it seemed that his nature was too calculating and deceptive ever toadmitt H Fal reply cose to her lips, hal ost ° cant and- when-she yielded-to-its- charms; she was lost in a dream of delight, which [amounted almost to delingm. Hamble, sufficient penetration and judgment to which gives the very being jtsciftoan- other, and in its state of original and complained of' indisposition.\ \On the following momning, he was confined by a fever to his bed, and much doubt was expressed as to his fate by the phy- sician of the vessel. I can never for- get the visible agony, the look of utter. wogs.that appeared upon the face of the Hittlecgirl when- the conviction of her [complained not-But, hour alter hour she sat by the bed of the young suffer- er-an image of grief and beautiful af- fection. The boy became daily more feeble and emaciated. He could not return the long and burning kisses of his sister, and, at last, a faint heaving of his breast, and the tender eloquence intervals, upon his wasted cheek like the first violet tint of a morning cloud, ~~ sh ashy pateness, and her eyes diffused F f énly suppressed her gayety, and, with an affectionate smile, witictcars, she su donsoon perceived Ins ascendancy, and this was-all he desired ; it was true he afterwards abated none of his outward ty;-brimgs-the most boty -and-unalioyed enjoy ment to its possessor. Of this he knew nothing, and rather regarded Jove - - a'more pleasant one.\ , \You are mistaken,\ replied the oth- 1, ar: you think too lightly of it, and Heaven grant you mot I toosericusly. said, too seriously on this subject, dear aunt; let us change it for aftentions, but be talked Tess: of love, and sometimes even appeared cold and abstracted in her society ; yet she did not for one moment suspect his sincerity . _ At length the Jong wished for period arrived which was to bring Biansia a- a- pure stream, gushing from the foun- tain of all that is noble in huraan na- ture. Such was the man for whom Biensia had forgotten an amiable youth, aes ketched,\ refurnedBiansia. Indeed, there is one,\ awe-pa her a6t, \pd he is purtbered among your may, never have cause to change your \Bat I am quite certain there are g my personal acqnaintances bear tha-darik character you have gain to the bosom-ef her anxious friends. Sl‘xe came, and with her the fondest wishes and prayers of one, who, tho' her, and to whom her early vows were plighted.. No sooner had she recéived she was introduced to the seciety of he was far away, would pever forget] the congratulations of her friends, than delight, from ahe_could not but awake in wretcheduess and despair. Her interview wilh Hambledon had dis- pelied her doubts, and the lofty and perpetual smile that edon her lips, Eh\ high. confidence jn her choice, e scorn she felt $0131}?th mig seek to change it\ _. # > FTE E whiripoo i : as a sort of w hiripool-in the braing- than 7 and givenherself up to a wild vision of were 7 passed \the first dark day of nothing- ness.\ {£5de was the most beautiful 1 had yey khown, and I persuaded the girl jiggfar a short time upon deck, lift her own fevered brow might ba fanned by the twilight breeze.. The sun had gone down in glory, and the traces of his bloofl-red. setting were still visible uporfthe Western waters. Slowly but the many stars were gather- ing themselves fogether above, and an- other sky swelled out in softened bear-, f, beneath, and the foam upon the crests of the waves was lighted up like rreaths -of snow.. was music! b; the bed-side, and I almost deemed, fand ste-would o | brother's danger camesiowly bome up- on her thoughts. e wept not-sho| ofhis half-closed eye, and a flush, at/ brightened for a imonkent, and he spoke is sister's name, | She replied with a sionate caress, and looked up to my face, as if to implore encouragement.- 1 'knew, 'that ther hopes were. but a mockery, : - A moment more, and a con- vulsive quiver passed over the lips of the dying. boy-a slight shuddér fan through his frame-and all was still.- 'The girl knew, as: if intuitively, that her brother was dead. - She mat in tear- less silence-but I saw, that the waters of bitterness 'were gathering fearfully 'at their fountain. . At last, she raised her hands with a sudden effort, and, pressing them upon her forehead, wept .with 'the ungontrolable agony of ' des- n the next day, the corse of the dead boy. was to be ficmmited to the O- cean. , The 1“th must be so, but she strove rive the thought away, as if it had been an un-. real and terrible vision. - When the ap- pointed hour -was - at. hand, she came and begged me, with a tone that seem- ed less like a human voice than the low cadence of a disembodied and melan- 'choly Spirit, to go and look upon her brother, and see if he was indéed ~dead. I sould not resist her. entreaties, but went with her to gaze again upon the sleeping dust, to which all the tendrils of her life seemed bound. - She paused it her vg’aryhjifimce'gguld’ ass off -Rethat lon'g and fixed gazed. She moved | not-spoles HOW -fIEths.form sho Joyed | was taken away to be let down into the Ocean. Then indeed she arose, and followed her lifeless brother with a calm | ness, that might have been from Heaven. The body sunk slowly and_ solemnly beneath the waves, a few long; bright finglets streamed out upon the waters, a single white and beautiful glimpse came .dimly up through the glancing billows, and all, that had once beech joy and beauty, vanished forever. During the short residue of our voy- age, the bereaved sister seemed fading away as calmly beautifully as a cloud in the summer zenith, | Her heart had lost its communion with Sature, lools-down-into-the..sca loos- and murmur incoherently of its cold.and solitary depth; and-call her brother's name, and then weep herself into calm- ness.. Soon afterward l left her with her friends, | I know not whether she is still a blossom of the Earth, or wheth er she has long since gone to be nurtur- ed in a holier realm. But I love the mfemory of that beautiful and stricken - ness, her innocence, and her deep and holy feelings, still come back.to mo in their glory and qui- etude like a rainbow on a summer-cloud, that has showered and passed off forever, narorrof th® raiNTEn. | -I -calted-one-morning on Isaboy, - to see his fine collection of portraits, which have now, in a great measure, become historical. L found him in his alefier, working upon: that splendid, picture which is destined to connect! the namo of the artist with most of the distinguish- ed characters of his day. - (The picture is now almost generally known, thro' the medium of the engraving. | It rep- resents the hall of the,congress, at the | moment when the Duke of Wellington was- introduced-by-Prince- Metternich.) In a moment I found myself surrounded | by -the almost living of all the | men and beautiful women, at that time assembled in Vienna. I saw the portrait of young Napoleon, which Isabey was just finishing, when 1 first met him at Schoconbrunn ; also a likeness of the Prince de Ligue, anima- ted by all the fine expression of the o- riginal, and a full-length of Napoleon himself, walking in the gardens of Mal- maisons. \Then he really had the hab- it of walking with his arai® crossed in ably,\ replied Isabey, 'and that, to- gether with his other remarkable hab- it ig- his- head,-atone-time- well nigh proved fatal to me. During the Consulate, I had been dining one day with some of Buoniaparto's young aids- de-camp at Malmison. After dinner we went out on the lawn fronting the Chateau, to play atleapfrog ; you know that was a favourite college game of| ours.. I hadleaped over the heals of several of my companions,/'when a lit- tle further op, beneath gn avenue of trees, I saw another, apparently wait- ing for me in the requisite position. Thinking I bad not yet completed my 4:th ran forward, but unfortunately my alarm, that I scarcely look behind me untill I reached the, ascended to partments, for-the persons of- hold -were accustomed to admit mme: at all times. sephine-at first concluded that I was the bearer 'of some fat ted my adventure, 'which, in spite of . my: distress; appeated \to her ' so. irre- sistibly comic, thatshe burst into a fit of laughter, portunity of appeasing him,. which to. deeded stfail ly- tes of the Tuilferies:® Timmediate I8 Sare > Buona On seeing my agitation, Jo-. Lnews: 'Lréla- ~ When-her merriment had somewhat Supsided; she promised, 'with her natural kindness of heart, to inter- cede with the Consul in my behalf.- But knowing her husband's irascible temper, she advised me to keep out of the way- until she should have an op- her was no very «difficult task, for .at that time Napoleon loved: her most tenderly. Indeed, her angelic disposi- i e-hera powerful-ascen-* - -~ dancy over him, and she was frequent- ly the means of averting those acts . of violence to which his ungovernable . temper would otherwise have driven him. . «\On my return home, I found lying on my table an order, not to. appear a- gain at the Thulléerigs ; and it was dur- ing my temporary retirement that I fin- ° ished the portrait you were just now looking-at. Madame Buonaparte, on presenting it to the Consul obtained my . pardon and my recall to the gourt.-- The first time Buonaparte saw mg after thiy affair;~was-inm-Josephine's 1:39\ mont, and stepping upto me;gdodna- turediy, he patted mo on 1 cek- 9 <c saying-' Really, sir, if people will play tricks, they ought at least to do them cleverly'-'Bfon Dieu !'-said Joseph- ine, laughing; sif.you bad seen his look of tertor when he first presented him- | self to me, you would have thought ' Kilim sufficiently punished for his inten- ded feat of agility.\ Isabey related this anecdoto with all his peculiar animation and drollery ; and he accompanied the story with such expressive gestures and attitudes, that || he seemed to bring 'the wholo-scene_ , visibly before me. 1 could imagine I faw Napoleon prostrate.on the ground, and then rising to vent his rage, like ' angry Jupiter hurling his thunderbolt. ~ - Court Jour, tol - “ ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN. Extravagance 'in dress, the haunting of play houses, and every thing els, is to be avoided ; in youths and young men, 'extravagance, in drets: particularly.-- This sort of extravagance, this waste of rises solely from vanity, and from van- ity of the most contemptible sort, It arises from the notion that all the peo- pile in the streets, for instance will bo looking at you as sobn as you walk out; and that they will, in a greater or loss .dogres, 4 - a count.of your fine dress. Never was notion more false. All the sehsiblo people that happen to see you, will think nothing at all about you; those who are filled with the same no- tion as you are, will perceive your at- tempt to impose on them, and will des- pise you accordingly ; rich-people will wholly disregard you, and you will be envied and hated by those who have the same vanity that you bave, with- Lout-theg.means of gratifying -it.- Dress should be suited to your rank and sti- (tion. m or physician should not dress Uke a carpenter, but there is no reason why a tradesman,a merchant's clerk, or clerk of any. kind, or why a shop-keeper or mantifacturer or éven a merchant-no reason at all, why any of these should dress in an expensive manner. It is a great mistake to sup. ' pose, that they derive any advantaga . | exterior decoration. are timated by other men according to their capacity and willingness part of women, fine clothes frequently «o something, yet the greater part of [that sex-aro too penstrating-to-draw their conclusions from the dut side show of a tian; they look decper, and find other criterions whereby to [Fudge. And, after all, do the fineclothes obtain you a frugality, good sénse, and that sort of attachment that is likely to [be lasting? Natural beauty of pefson ~ is quite another thing; this'always will, and must have some weight even with men, and great weight with women.- But this does not want to be set off by expensive clothes. Female eyes are, in guch tases, very sharp ; they can dis- cover beauty though half hidden by and -~, 3{ the restiGof matre politeness; but they In the Spring.of 1821, gentle \ - UKD sig when this $005 begars visibly foassume « more se- rious character. - Her good sense, ind the affection already. bestowed on an it, for game tirse rendared his victifl ry doubtfal; bot, atength, hetriarph- Gfcation of sesing all that rdcessfor- rherly hectawed oh herself, now favich~ the south, with a gentiemag; who had removed from England to this country of age. These chilitea £. lovely beings 1 ever haw. Their ex- [frome beavity. their deep and artless 4f-| an acquaintance in one of the cifies bf nefllier hoyfand sea-1 pointed her tothe star, on spell glories of the sky which she hat always loved to look- was my horror on discovermg that the victim-ofmy unlacky blunder 'was no cther than Bobcaparte himself! At that pert Rot even dreamed of} returned with her to the bed-sifde of her the possibility of a fall; and this first 'his indignation in_tha utmost degree.- pulse ~ \If you throw & pofipkin op in th cir, what flameSdM—g’pfid; ecceptric- Connecticut farmer to « New Ycrfier “332m to be thre,\ fso pled the other. \By no mears,''re- Foaming with Te rose and Crew ned the farmer, \H. will come ces)
