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1117 I II M
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$1.00 a Year, In Advance.
"FOR GOD, FOR COUNTRY AND FOR TRUTH."
Single Copy 5 Cents,
VOL. X VI.
PLYMOUTH, N, C. FRIDAY, AUGUST 4, 1905.
NO. 20.
Stubby's First Panther.
By CLARENCE HAWKES.
The fitful gleam of two score- lan
terns, following at regular intervals, a
few rods apart, was trailing along a
country read. The moon and stars
were hidden by a soft spring haze that
enveloped the travelers, wrappping all
things in its gray mantle.
By the light of each lantern one
could see revolving wheels, and the
massive outlines of circus vans. Here
and there a light stronger than the
rest revealed the outline of the driver
sitting wrapped in his great oilskin
coat, guiding the team through the
dense darkness.
Even had it not been for the lan
terns one would have guessed that a
large caravan was passing, from the
snapping and creaking of the axles,
and a score of other small sounds that
always attend the moving of heavy
freight.
Most of the drivers were alert,
watching the bushes by the roadside
that they might guide their teams as
near between the two dark outlines
as possible. Others in the middle of
-ihe procession dozed, feeling quite sure
that the horses, so long accustomed
to the life, would trail after the lan
tern in front of them, and keep the
road. Two or three of the drivers neith
er watched the teams which they were
supposed to drive. nor the road, but
were wholly engrossed with black, bot
tles on the seat beside them.
Such was the condition of Big Ire
land, as he was called by the hands,
the driver of the great van containing
the panther and the jaguar.
Presently the teams in the distance
began rumbling over a short iron
bridge. One could have guessed this,
for the sounds of the heavy wheels on
the plank came nearer and nearer,
giving the impression that the bridge
was traveling towards one, for there
:tvas nothing in this dense darkness to
gauge the movements of the team
by.
When the van carrying the big cats
struck the bridge, which was narrow,
the team had hauled over to the left,
and the shutters- of the cage barely'
cleared the strong iron piilar that
stood guard at the corner, of the
bridge.
Although his faculties were numbed
by drink. Big Ireland felt that some
thing was wrong, and instinctively
pulled upon the right rein, or what
would have been the right rein had
they not been crossed. At the same
time he spoke sharply to the horses.
Then there was a grating, grinding
sound, and the drunken driver reach
ed for his whip. Twice it fell upon
the frightened horses, and the grating
and grinding gave place to cracking
and breaking. Then there was a hid
eous din, in which the squealing and
kicking of horses, the breaking of
strong wood and ripping of bars, and
the snarling of frightened, infuriated
cats, could be distinctly heard.
When the drivers from the teams
ahead and behind hurried to the scene,
they found one horse down, his legs
through the lattice-work in the side of
the bridge. The two left wheels of the
wagon had gone through an opening
between the railing and floor of the
bridge, and were wedged in clear to
the hub, while the forward side of
the van had been literally gutted.
Their first thought was of Chieftain,
the great circus cat, but the flash of
their lanterns into the cage showed
that he Avas gone.
When the van driven by Big Ireland
struck the bridge, Chieftain, the pan
ther, was lying curleu up in one cor
ner of the cage asleep. His first in
stinct on being so rudely awakened
was to slink away into the furthest
corner from the commotion. But when
he heard the tearing of the bars, that
had so long stifled him, he raised his
head and sniffed the air eagerly.. He
could not see that the side of the cage
had been ripped open, but 'something
told him that it was so. For a breath
of freedom blew through the open
bars, that only a wild . creature, for
years held captive, could have dis
cerned. Then he stretched his great
paw forward and felt the opening.
Then cautiously he slipped through
the opening to the railing of the bridge
where one great spring carried him In
to the darkness, and night folded her
arms about him as though to protect
this wild creature from pursuit, while
the fields and the meadows cried,
"Come, you are ours! We will feed
and water you."
At first the panther, so long cramped
in his cage, stumbled blindly through
the darkness. Hisjlmbs would not re
spond to the mind that subtlety that
they should, and his eyes, so long used
to artificial light, winked and blinked
strangely. But by degrees the pupils
dilated to their utmost and drank in
whatever light the gloom contained,
and with catlike stealth he crept along
the pasture.
Now and then the great cat would
stop to roll like a kitten upon the
grass, or sketch its limbs. Once it gave
two or three great bounds, just to feel
those sturdy limbs spurn the green
earth.
After about two hours of stumbling
1
through the darkness, a gray streak
appeared iu the east, and birds began to
twitter in the tree tops. Then the
panther entered a wood. As it had
been captured when a kitten, it had
never seen anything like this before,
but it was fresh and cool, and besides
it was dark and there were plenty of
places to hide, so the great cat was
well pleased with his new discovery,
and thereafter kept to the woods.
It was about a week after the acci
dent on the bridge and the escape of
Chieftain from the van, that Stubby
Daggitt wa3 going for the cows, just
as he had done for the last six or sev
en years. There would seem to be
little relation between Stubby and the
cows, and the great circus cat. For
that dread animal had escaped some
twenty-five miles from the village
where Stubby lived. Though the woods
had been scoured for days, nothing
could be found of him. So every one
had concluded that the panther by
some inborn instinct was working his
way northward toward the wilderness
that its kind had frequented ever since
the days of the red man.
Stubby was not handsome. You will
guess this when I tell you that his
other nickname was "Freckles," but
he had an honest countenance, and
any boy in the village would tell you
that he was clear grit from the top
of his tow-head to the bottom of his
bare brown feet.
The cows gave him considerable
trouble this night, for he had to go to
the farther end of the pasture into a
maple grove for them. They acted
rather strangely, too, he thought; for
they started uneasily every time he
struck at the weeds by the side of the
path with his birch rod. Just at the
edge of the woods was a spreading
maple that overhung the path; here
they jammed up In a bunch, refusing
to go under the tree.
"Whey, there! what are you doing?"
cried Stubby, switching the hind cows
with his birch.
These pressed forward and the cows
ahead broke into a trot, going under the
maple at a good pace.
Then a long, lithe figure dropped
from the tree like a thunderbolt from
a cloudless sky, and with a snarl that
froze the blood in Stubby's veins, dug
its claws in the sides of the foremost
cow, while its teeth were buried In her
neck. With a frenzied bellow of pain
and fright, the old cow broke into a
keen gallop, and almost before Stub
by knew what had happened the herd
was ten rods away, going for the barn
like stampeded steers. Stubby's first
thought was of the escaped panther.
Then Stubby thought of his own
safety, and he started for the barn as
though the panther "had been upon his
trail instead of the old cow's back.
He was taking' a short cut home, par
allel to the path the cows were follow
ing, so he could still hear their wild
bellows and the snarling of the pan
ther. All of which lent energy to his
sturdy legs; over knolls and stones
he bounded, as though running the
race for life.
Half way to the barn he mounted
a stone wall, and gave one frighten
ed glance backward, to see if the pan
ther had left the cows for his own
trail. Then he saw a very strange thing
that both amazed and delighted him.
The cows, in their headlong rush for
the barn, had reached the same stone
wall that he stood upon, and were
about to pass through an opening
from which all but the top bar had been
left down, the remaining bar caught
the great cat under the chin, and
brushed him off the old cow's back as
though he had been a fly, while the
herd galloped on with new energy.
Stubby waited to see no more, but
jumping irom the way, made the
sprint of his life to the house. A
moment later he burst into the dining
room where the family were at sup
per and, Avild-eyed and speechless,
sank exhausted on the floor. As soon
as he could speak he gasped out his
story to an amazed family circle.
Stubby's father at once went to the
barn, where the lacerated sides of old
Crinkelhorn told' plainly that his story
was only too true.
There was great excitement in the
village that evening when Stubby's ad
venture was related at the country
store, and a hunt was planned for the
next day that should rid the neighbor
hood of this furious beast.
Old shot-guns that had not been
fired for years were pressed into ser
vice, heavily loaded with buckshot or
slugs.
To his father's astonishment, Stub
by declared his intention to go with
the hunting party.
"Gracious, boy!" exclaimed his fath
er. "Didn't you get panther enough last
night to last you twenty-four hours?"
but secretly he was pleased with his
son's pluck.
"Don't go, Herbert," pleaded his
mother. "You'U be eaten alive."
"I guess there won't nothln happen
to him if he sticks close to me," put
in the boy's father. "I've got the old
shotgun loaded with four slugs in
each barrel aad I guess there woa't no
panther eat us up. Better let him go,
mother." So Herbert's mother gave
"Guer- I'll take along my pocket
rifle," said Stubby. "I'll feel safer
with it."
"Might as well try to shoot a rhin-i
oceros with a popgun, as a panther
with that thing," said his father. But
the boy slipped the little 22-rifle under
his coat and went with the hunting
party.
They had planned to beat the woods
where the panther had appeared the
night before, just as they do in India
for tigers. So the party was strung out
in a long line, each man two or three
rods from his neighbor, and in this
way they swept the woods, from end to
end. It was a new experience for most
of them, and each man went with his
gun cocked, and his heart in his mouth
The timid hunters insister on making
a great shouting,' and the courageous
said it was to frighten the panther
away, for fear that they would see
him.
As for Stubby, his nerves tingled so
that he doubted if he could even hit
the tree containing the panther, let
alone hitting the beast if he should
see him.
The forenoon was very hot and it
was hard work beating through the,,
underbrush so by noon they were a,
tired and disgusted lot. A council was
then held, and it was decided to divide
the party into two parts and one beat
the neighboring 'woods, while the re
mainder worked the maple grove still
more. A hasty lunch was eaten, and
they set to work again.
By the middle of the afternoon the
maple grove had been beaten from end
to end, and the panther certainly was
not there. So While others of the par
ty went into a little swampy run near
by, Stubby sat under a big hemlock,
resting.
They had barely gotten out of sight
when the boy noticed a movement in
the large hemlock near the one under
which he sat. Then one of the green
tufted bough.3 sprang down as though
a heavy weight were upon it, opening
a gap between it and the branch above,
and what Stubby saw in the opening
made his tongue cleave to the roof of
his mouth, and his heart pound away
at his ribs as though it would break
through them. For there, upon a. large
limb of the hemlock, with his hind
legs under him and resting against
the trunk of the tree was the great
circus cat.
I-Iia tail was switching horribly, his
fangs were bared as though for a
snarl, and his eyes seemed to be meas
uring the distance between him and
the boy.
The moment his eyes met those of
the panther, Stubby's gaze was held
as though by some will stronger than
his own. He could not move, he could
not cry out. All he could do was
to sit there and wait until the pan
ther should spring. Cold sweat stood
upon his brow, and he felt sick and
faint. He thought of his mother's
prophecy, that he would be eaten alive.
It looked as though it would be ful
filled. He felt that his only safety lay
in looking directly at the panther. Fer
haps someone would discover them be
fore it was too late.
Seconds seemed like minutes, and
the quarter of a minute that elapsed,
an hour. Then Stubby thought of his
little pocket rifle that lay upon the
grass beside him, and felt for it with
one hand, still keeping his eye on the
panther.
But as his arm went down for the
rifle, the panther bent lower on the
limb. He was going to spring.
Then with a quick motion Stubby
raised the rifle to. the level of his eye.
One moment the sight glimmered along
the panther's back, and the next it was
dancing around in the tree. His arm
eyes, and pressed the trigger. Then
a fit of sheer desperation seized him,
and with a great effort, he drew the
sight down until it stopped, as he
thought, between the great brute's
eyes, and pressed the tripper. Then
in a frenzy of fright he pitched the lit
tle rifle into the bush and sprang to
his feet. His nimble legs had saved
him the night before, and might now.
He had barely sprung from a sitting
position, when the body of the great
cat shot like a black streak through
the air and fell heavily at his feet.
Then Stubby's legs sank under his
weight, and it grew very dark.
The next thing he remember;, his
father was bending over him, fanning
him with his palm-leaf .hat, while
someone else was sprinkling brook
water in his face from a wet handker
chief. Ho was not mortally wounded,
as he at first thought, or even
scratched, only his head was light and
things looked strange.
After a few moments he was able to
sit up and tell his story.
"You say you fired at him with the
popgun, did you?" asked Stubby's fath
er. "Yes," replied the boy, "I aimed
right between his eyes, just as I have
read about in book3."
"Made a mighty big sight of noise
for a 22," remarked someone in the
?rowd.
"Wal, the panther's dead," said Stub
by's father, "and I don't see but the
boy's bullet did it." ,
"Look at this here wound," said an
other. "Bullet went in just behind the
shoulder, square through the heart,
and came out the other side. Don't
look like a 22 either. That warn't no
popgun that did that."
"Where is old Ben Wilson, from over
to Edge wood?" asked someone in the
party. "He knows all about such
things; he can tell what kind of a bul
let made the hole." And a shout went
around for Ben, but he was nowhere
to be found.
Then one of the Basset boys said,
"I vum!" and slapped his side.
"I have it," he said. "I just saw
Ben myself, sorter skulking off
through the woods towards home, and
if I ain't mightily mistaken 'Old Ken
tuck' was still a smoakin'. Anyhow I
saw Ben lift the hammer and throw
away the cap, and' he wouldn't have
done that if it had been a good one."
Here then was the secret of the mys
tery. Ben had happened along just
in time to see Stubby's plight, and had
rescued him by a lucky shot with his
famous hunting rifle that he called
"Old Kentuck."
To make sure that this was the case,
a committee was at once sent to in
terview Ben. But to their great aston
ishment that quiet old man would say
nothing about it, either one way , or
the other. "We want to give you a
vote of thanks and the skin," said the
chairman. "Now tell us; did you kill
the panther?"
"Can't say as I did," replied Ben. "I
hain't seen no dead panther. 'Twould
be mighty hard to say. There ain't
nothin sure in this world, 'ceptin
death and taxes. , But you folks just
go back an' ask Stubby about it. He
got the panther's eye and I didn't.
"Mebbe, he winked at him. You just
ask Stubby." Outing.
SHAW ON SHAKESPEARE.
Calls Him "a N arrow-Minded Middle
Class Man."
Bernard Shaw, the well-known nov
elist and dramatist," delivered a lect
ure on "Shakespeare" the other even
ing at the Kensington Town Hall, Lon
don. According to a report in The
London Chronicle his real points were
just these. Shakespeare the writer was
not God. Shakespeare the man was
not an illiterate, good-for-nothing
blackguard. Both were comprised in
a thorough middle-class "gentleman of
my own profession." ,
Shakespeare was, too, not an infalli
ble philosopher; but as an artist he
was supremely imaginative, the great
est master of language that ever was,
and of verbal music, with an enormous
power of characterization and "tre
mendous fun."
Here are some characteristic Shaw
isms: On the idolization of Shakespeare's
works
"People view them as they view the
Bible that is to say, in the 'proper
spirit,' which means that the mind
must be completely closed to every
thing they contain."
" 'Others abide cur question, thou
are free' what can that mean but that
Shakespeare is God?"
On Shakespeare not being a vaga
bond: "That he was a respectable, middle-
class man is proved by the fa, of his i
father having been a bankrupt."
"He cme to town obviously as an or
dinary sort of middle-class literary
young man, and wrote 'Love's Labour's
Lost,' a regular Bedford Park sort of
play."
"My own family have always called
themselves 'the Shaws.' There is do
doubt that Shakespeare's family called
themselves 'the Shakespcares.' "
After his remarks upon Shake
speare's middle-class origin and in
stincts, Mr. Shaw set out to prove an
eld point of his that in his early "ro
mantic" plays Shakespeare was just
writing what the public wanted, and
that in his heart he was a pessimist.
"Otherwise," Mr. Shaw added,
"Shakespeare failed as a philosophic
guide. He had no religion, no politics,
no great concerns. He was a narrow
minded middle-class man."
As an artist, however, Mr. Shaw
would have had hardly anything too
good to say about Shakespeare if only
he hadn't written in blank verse. Here
are some Shawisms upon this little
matter:
Blank verse is a thing you could
teach a cat if it had an car.
An enormous mass of the blank
verse in the plays isn't poetry at all.
Shakespeare was a master of tre
mendous prose. Compare the "What
a piece of work is a man" speech in
"Hamlet" with such twaddle as "To
be or not to be."
Wrhy didn't he leave the mighty line
to people like Marlowe, who could
could write nothing else!
Yet he made even this blank vers-?
musical. There was a charm even in
such a line as "Thou damn'd and lux
urious mountain goat."
Finally Mr. Shaw put it to his au
dience that they were just fascinated
by the magic of Shakespeare's spcec h
into idolizing everything that he wrote,
whether it were true or no. The ayes
had it.
Eoth Sides of a Question.
"There are many things you can't
do with money," said the man who af
fects philosophy
"Yes," answered "Dustin Stax. "But
there are a whole lot more things you
can't do without it." Washington
Star.
SOUTHERN
J t. TOPICS OF INTEREST TO THE PLANTER. STOCKMAN AND TRUCK' nRCWR.
Dah-ylnjr in Dixie. .
There Is a widespread opinion that
the dairy industry cannot be made a
success in the South, that the proper
field for the Industry is in the North
and West, but little by little we are
learning that while there may be "no
now things under the sun" there are
many old industries that find new
homes, and here and there, like an
oasis in the desert, some bold pioneer,
backed by the courage of his convic
tions, has introduced some new field
of enterprise in an old community.
This is particularly true of the dairy
industry, and though there have been
many who have failed, there are more
who have succeeded, and many an
acre that once knew only the tread of
the cotton planter and his mule, now is
covered with grasses, and here the
gentle cows find subsistence, and on
many another field, corn and forage
crops have supplanted cotton, to the
Improvement of the soil, and to the
enhancement of the contents of the
farmer's pocketbook.
Among those who have achieved
success in the South is one Mr. II. A.
Barrows, of Monticello, this State;
coming here seven years ago from
Illinois, and knowing nothing about
Southern agriculture, and but a little
about agriculture anywhere, the ex
periences of those first few years
would have discouraged a less de
termined man. As Mr. Barrows now
laughingly says, he was the "laugh
ing stock of the whole community;"
he can afford to laugh now at the
recollection, but it was no joke in those
days, and only proves the saying, "that
he who laughs last," etc., for those who
came to scoff then come now to gather
knowledge it is again the old story of
the hare and the tortoise. Those who
had supposed there was nothing more
to be learned have been distanced by
the one who had the perseverance to
burn the midnight oil in order to
find out the cause of his .failure and
hew out success where an ordinary
man would have given up in despair.
Mi Barrows early saw the necessity
of keeping livestock in order to pre
serve the fertility of the soil, and real
izing the possibilities that dairying
afforded, he made a thorough study of
the industry, all its branches. He had
a herd of high-grade Jerseys and
Guernseys, consisting of about forty
milch cows and as many more young
heifers. They furnish milk to supply
the town of Monticello with a high
grade product that cannot be excelled
in quality. In addition, he is making
a fancy grade butter, that was scored
by one of the best judges of butter in
America, and was marked ninety-eight
points out of a possible 100. This but
ter "goes to Thomasville, Jacksonville
and other-points to supply a critical
class of customers, but the only kick
is from those who can't get it; every
few days he is obliged to turn down
orders from some one who has heard
of it.
But it is not alone-in the products
of the dairy that he has distanced
others who are older in experience; for
In his cane syrup he has produced an
article that has been highly commend
ed by experts, and in fact by all who
have tasted it, and but, as Mr. Kip
ling would say, "that is another story."
Mr. Barrows raises all the roughage
for his cows, buying only concentrated
feeds like brewers' grains, brans and
cottonseed meal. Two large silos hold
enough silage to last through the win
ter months. In the summer the pasture
is supplemented with green feeds and
soiling crops. To visit his farm and
look over his fields and his herds, to
be regaled with a few of his jokes, to
meet his accomplished wife and fine
boys is worth a journey from a dis
tance. This Is but a single instance of a
successful Southern dairyman, there
are many, but there is room for many
more. The field is a broad one, and
will grow even faster than the popu
lation will increase; there is nothing
that will create a demand for any
product like a product that is a little
better than the average, and, this is
particularly true of the dairy industry
There is no branch of agriculture
that impoverishes the soil so little as
dairying, provided the fertilizer is re
turned to the land and not allowed to
n to waste around the barn. It furn
ishes a steady income the year around,
and when our friends on Wall Street
are forcing cotton down to five cents,
the dairy farmer sleeps just ns sound;
eats just as hearty and dresses just as
well as when It Is ten cents or more.
The Stockman.
Machinery on the Farm.
The following from the Southern
Ruralist contains some very sood advice-
"There is nothing on the farm to
day which pays a larger profit on the
money invested than modern im
proved tools. The man who tries to
f.irm with not bins but a tingle stock
is handicapped from the start and
. will never get ahead until ka reaches
FARM ' fOTES,
I the point where he can begin to ac
quire the necessary implements for
his profession.
"A machine which will pay for it-,
self several times over the first year,
which will pay from 100 to 500 per
cent, on tho investment, is certainly
worth purchasing.
"There isn't a successful business
man in the city to-day who wduld
hesitate one minute on such a propo
sition. In fact, the successful busi
ness man would not hesitate to make
an investment in labor-saving machin
ery if he knew it would save him ten.
per cent. What we farmers need to
realize is, that our farming is our busi
ness, and then run it on business prin
ciples. When a business man knows
that a certain improvement will pay
him twenty-five per cent, or fifty per
cent, or 100 per cent, profit, he makes
it even If he has to borrow money to
do it, for such an Investment will' soon
pay back the money many times over.
"Now, we do not advise you to go In.
debt indiscriminately for every new
mnrliino thnt fnmra f!nnr Tvhff'li enm c
one wants to sell; but we do, advise
you unhesitatingly to by all means pro
cure the tools necessary to do your
work to best advantage. If you run
a one-horse farm you need, besides
your single stock, a one-horse .turn
plow, a straight tooth harrow, a com
and cotton planter, a guano distributor,
a one-horse cultivator, a weeder, arid
a one-horse mower and a hay rake.
"Now, with these tools you should
be able to do such good work and so
much of it that you will soon be in
position to purchase another horse and
run Q f irn-linrcfl ffirm Vrm sviU fTia'n
be able to ride much of the, timein
stead of walk. With the advent of the
horses many more tools will be needed.
A two-horse breaking' plow will turn
your land deeper, and witha cutaway
or disc harrow, a smoothing harrow
and a roller, you can put it in such fine
condition that the yield per acre w,iIT be
much larger. You will also need ;a
two-horse cultivator in addition to your
one-horse tools.
"When you reach this point you will
soon be able to purchase another ani
mal, and then comes the ' three-horso
disc plow, which will tear up land that
before you could not touch. You -will
now need a grain drill if you sow much
wheat, and your crops will be so much
heavier that you will abandon the
cradle in despair at ever cutting it by
hand, and purchase a reaper at once.
Your large crop of corn calls for a.
shredder, and the shredder needs an.
engine, which will also run your feed
cutter, pump your water and cut your
wood. And all these pay a. big profit
when properly managed and cared for.
You can now employ more help at a
profit, have a foreman to superintend
for Yourself anrl familv to live like
folks. -"If
you are a gardener you need
many more tools, including hand seed
drills and single and double wheel hoes.
But the gardener also needs the heavy
tools to fit his land. In fact, they are
a necessity, for vegetables neel the
very best preparation it is possible to
give.
"And the further you climb up along
this road to success the easier things
go and greater the profit, for mother
earth appreciates good treatment and
will yield a bountiful return."
Sowing Alfalfa.
Alfalfa may be sown either fall or'
spring. It is- useless to sow alfalfa
unless the land has been thoroughly
prepared. It will take a year at least
to get land ready for alfalfa. Simply
scratching over the surface of the
ground and sowing seed, even when in
oculation is followed, is not likely to
bring satisfactory results. If the land
is at all heavy in nature it should- be
deeply broken to the depth of twelve
inches and then subsoiled. Subsoiling
is best done in the fall. In order that
the land may contain an available sup
ply of plant food, it is well to grow
peas on the land and plow them under
in the fall. A heavy application of
phosphoric acid and muriate of potash
should be made to the pea crop, and
lime may be applied after the peas are
plowed under, say at .the rate of fif ty;
bushels per acre. The lime should- be
applied two or three weeks beforo
the alfalfa is sown so as to avoid an
injury to the seed. Use the caustic
lime, placing in heaps In the field and
Krbvering lightly with earth. When
thoroughly slaked, scatter over the
ground uniformly and work in with a
harrow. Seed the alfalfa at the rate of
twenty pounds per. acre and not later
than the first of September. The al
falfa should be inoculated before plant
ing. The station is in position to fur
nish you with the inoculating material.
It is not well to plant alfalfa on too
large a scale, for it is a difficult crnf
to establish, and it will be better ta
go slowly and thoroughly understand
its peculiarities before attempting to
cultivate it extensively. Journal nasi
Tribune,