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V ' . . . i ' ' - : ' : : - . i- . ' ' . . . . ; ! ... - - ' " Ours are the plans of fair deliglttftpl peace, nnwarp'd by party rage, to live like brothers." " . : . ! ! " Oars are the plans of fair delightful peace, umrarp'd by party rage; to lire like brothers.' roil, xxxix. MONDAY, OCTOBER SO, 1838. NO. 52. EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. terms. Subscript! , three dollars per annum- -one half in advance. i C3" Persons resiJing Without the State will be 'required to py the wholx amount of the yearV ubscription in advance. RATES OF ADVERTISING. For eviry 16 lines (Mi size type) first insertion cn dollar; each subsequent insertion, 25 cents. Court Orders and Judicial Advertisements will he charged 25 per cent, higher ; and a deduction of 33 J per cent, will lie made from the regular prices, fur! advertisers by the year. jI,KTTuis to the Editors must be post-paid. T jA. FAMIXXjPICTlTKE. The following story, so admirably truo to nature, which we copy from the "Augusta Mirror," is from the pen of Judge Loxesi-KKKT : .i " I describe a Georgia family. It is a fair specimen of Georgia families' generally, the heaas'of which are - parents 'of good sense, good morals, and well improved minds. J To be sure, there are inGeorgia, as many notions about parental government, as there are in any other country, and the practice! as various as the opinions. Some parents) exercise no government at all ; oth ers confine themselves exclusively to the government of the tongue ; and others rule by the rod alone: but by far the larger class, blend these several modes of govern ment, and prefer the one or the other ac cording to times and circumstances. To this class belonged Mr. and Mrs. Butler, the heads of the family which I am about to describe. Gilbert, was the christian name of the husband and Eliza, of the wife. I was intimately acquainted with them both, before their union: and was ever afterwards, admitted to their household, with the free dom o!f one of its members? indeed I was a connection of one of them. They had been married about eight months, when a dull November evening found me at their fire side. In the course of the levenihg, the conversation turned upon raising children. By the way Eliza," said Gilbert, I have been thinking for some time past of interchanging views with you upon J this subject; and there never can be a better time than now, while Abraham is with jus, whose opinions we both respect, and who will act as umpire between us.' WeH, said Eliza, let me hear yours. , 'If we should ever be blessed with chil dren ( Eliza blushed a little, ) let it be a fundamental law between us, that neither of us, ever interfere with the discipline of the other, either by look, word, or action, in the presence of the children.' To that rule I most heartily subscribe.' When a child is corrected by one of us, let not the other extend to it the least con dolence or sympathy. Tin that also you have ray hearty con currence.' ' ' Let us never correct a child in a ioni' pass- The propriety of that rule I fully ad mitl; but I fear that I shall not always be abte to conform to its requisition. I will, however, endeavor to do so.' Well if you "will do your best, I shall be satisfied. ' Let us, as far as it is practicable,- intro dude among. our children, the universally admitted principles of good government a mong men. . ' That is a very indefinite rule husband. I know very little of the principles oi good government among men ; and much less of those principles which are universally ad mitted.' Well, I will be a little more specific. I believe it is universally admitted that taws, should precede punishment : and that none should be punished who are incapable of understanding the law. In accordance with these principles, I would never, punish a child, who is incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong, nor until he shall have been forewarned of the wrong, and taught to avoid it. . ' These principles seem very reasonable to me,' said Eliza, but they can never be applied to children. If you do not cor rect a child until it is old - enough to learn from precept the difference between right ana wrongs there will be no living iir tne house with it for the first five or six years of its life and no controlling it afterwards. Gilbert received these views of his wife, with some alarm, and entered upon a long argument to convince her that they were erronepus. She maintained her own very well, but Gilbert had certainly the advan tage of her. in the argument. All he could say, however, did not in the least shake her confidence in her opinion. I was at length appealed to, and I gave judgment in favor of Gilbert. ' Well,' said she, I never was better atisfibd of any thing in my life than . I am that you are both wrong. But let us com promise this matter. I'll agree tp this : if ever i correct a child before it is old enough t( receive instruction from precept, and you do not approve of my conduct I will then promise you never to do the like a- Well said Gilbert, that is very fair. unemore rule win settle the fundamentals, ajjQ we may safely trust all others to future justment.' Let us never address ourehil- Qren in the nonsensical gibberish, that is J so universally prevalent among parents, and particularly among mothers. It is very silly hi me ursi piace, anu u greauy reiarus a child's improvement in the second. Were it not for this, I have no doubt children would speak their mother tongue as correct ly at four years old, as they do at sixteen. Eliza smiled, and observed, that this was such ! a small matter that it had also better be left to future adjustment. To this Gil bert rather reluctantly assented. I . . I About two months after this conversations Gilbert was blessed with a fine son; whom he named John James Gilbert, after the two grandfathers and himself a profusion of names which he had cause afterwards to repent. Just fourteen months and six days there after he was blessed with a fine daughter, whom Eliza named, Ann Francis Eliza, af ter the two grandmothers and herself. Fifteen months thereafter, he received a third blessing, like unto Jhe first; which he, called George Henry, after his two broth ers. Thirteen months and nineteen days after the birth or George, a fourth blessing des- cended upon Gilbert in the form of a fine son. This took, the name of William Au gustus, after two brothers of his wife. Eliza now. made a long rest of nineteen months, four days and five hours, ( I speak rom tne lamily record, when by way ot amend, she presented her husband a pair of blessings. As soon as his good fortune was made known to him, Gilbert expressed regret, that he had not reserved his own name until now, in order that the twins might bear his own name and mine. See- msr tins; could not be. he bestowed mv name upon the first born, and gave me the privilege of naming the second. As I con sider 'a good name, rather to be chosen than great riches,' I called the innominate, after Isaac the patriarch, and a beloved un cle of mine. In this very triumphant and laudable manner, did Mrs. LJutler close the list ot her sons. She now turned her attention to daugh ters, and in the short space of five years produced three, that a queen might have been proud of. Their names in the order of their births, were Louisa, Rebecca and Sarah. It was one of Mrs. Butler's max ims, 'If you have any thing to do, do it at once,' and she seemed to be governed by this maxim in making up her family ; for Sarah completed the number of children. John was about a year old, when I was again at Gilbert's for the evening. He was seated by the supper table with the child in his arms, addressing some remarks to me, when I called his attention to the child, who was just in the act of putting his fin ffers into the blaze of the candle. Gilbert jerked him away suddenly ; which so in censed Master John James Gilbert, that he screamed insufferably. Gilbert tossed him, patted him, walked him, and whistled to him ; but he could not distract his attention from the candle. He removed him out of sight of the luminary, but that only made matters worse. He now commenced his first lesson in the 'principles of good government.' He brought the child to wards the candle, and the nearer it ap proached, the more pacified it became.- The child extended its arm to catch the blaze, and Gilbert bore it slowly towards the flame until the hand came nearly in contact with it, when he snatched it away. crying 'bunny finnies !' which is by inter pretation, 'you'll burn your fingers !' ? Eliza and I exchanged smiles, but neither of us said any thing, The child construed this into wanton teazing and became if possible, more ob streperous than ever. Gilbert now resor ted to another expedient. He put his own fingers into the blaze, withdrew them sud denly, blew them, shook them, and gave every sign of acute agony. This not onl' quieted but delighted the child, who signi fied to him to do it again. He instantly perceived (what was practically demonstra ted the roiuute afterwards,) that the child was put in a most dangerous interpretation upon his last illustration. He determined therefore, not to repeat it. The child, not satisfied with the sport, determined !to re peat it himself; which the.father opposing, he began to reach and cry as efore. There was but one experiment left ; and that was, to let the child feel the flame a little. This he resolved to try, but how to conduct it properly was not so easily settled. It would not do to allow the infant to put his hand into the blaze ; because it would eith er burn it too little, or too much. He therefore resolved to direct the hand to a point so near the flame, that the increas ing heat would induce the child to ' with draw his hand himself. Accordingly he brought the extended arm slowly towards the flame ; the child becoming more and more impatient with every moment's post ponement of its gratification, until the hand came within about an inch of the wick, when he held the child stationary. But John would not let his hand remain stationary, nor at the choseji point. He kept snatch ingat the candle, till finding a'.l his efforts fruitless, he threw himself violently back, gave his father a tremendous thump on the nose with the back of his jiead, and kick ed and screamed most outrageously. 'You little rascal' said Gilbert, Ivea good mind to give yon a good spanking.' 'Give him to me said Mrs. Butler, 'You'd better not take him,' said Gil- ert. in an under tone, 'while he is in such a passion.' 'No danger said she; 'hand him to me.' As she received him, 'hush sir !' said she sharply: and the child hushed instant ly and was asleep in a few minutes. 'Strange, said Mr. Butler, 'how much sooner the mother acquires control over a child than the father.' Not at all.' said Mrs. Butler. 'You would have controlled him as easily as I ! did, it you had given him the same lesson beforehand that I gave him. He sot in just such an uproar the other day, and find ing nothing else would quiet him, I spank ed it out of him ; and I have had no trouble in quieting him since.' 'I begin to think Butler,' said I 'that Eli za was right in the only points of dif ference between you, touching the manage ment of children. I observed that you ad dressed the child just now in the gibberish which you so much condemned before you became a lather: and though it seemed ; ridiculous enough, especially in you, I think it would have appeared still more ridiculous, if you had said to a child so young, 'John, my son' do not put your. fingers into the flame of the candle, it will ourn mem. And your , . .i i , , cAiciiiiieni uas : laugui you me ansoiute unpossi i possibility of; uy governing children of very tender by .prescribed rules.' vears, 9 I am half inclined to your opinion,' said Butler. 'Eliza's discipline has performed several good offices. It has relieved us of John's insufferable noise ; it has taught him to control his temper at its first appear ance, and it has learned him the meaning of a word ('hush,') which will often supply the place of correction, and always fore warn him of desires unlawful. Long before the second son arrived at the reasoning age, Gilbert abdicated, unyT reservedly, in favor of his wife; contenting himself with the subordinate station of her ministerial officer ; in which he executed her orders in cases requiring more physi cal strength than she possessed. Passing over the intermediate period, I now introduce the reader to this family, after most of the children had reached the age of reason.' In contemplating the scene which Iam about to sketch, he will be pleased to turn his thoughts occasionally, to Gilbert's principles of good government.' Sarah was about two years and a half old, when Gilbert invited me to breakfast with him one December's morning near the Christmas holidays. It was the mor ning appointed for his second killing of hogs: which, as the southern reader knows, is a sort of family carnival in Georgia. I went, and found all the children at home, and Gilbert s mother added to the family circle. John and Anna had reached the age when they, were permitted to take seats at the first table; though upon this occasion John being engaged about the pork did not avail himself of his prilvilcge; the rest of the children were taught to wait for the se cond table. Breakfast was announced, and after the adults and Annai had despatched their meal, the children were summoned. As they had been taught not to seat them selves to the table until they were bidden, and there were some preparatory arrange ments to be made, they ail gathered round the fire, clamorous with the events of the mormnsr. 'By Joeky.' said William, 'did't that old black barrah weigh a heap J' 'Look here young gentleman,' said his mother, 'where did you pick up such lan guage as that ? Now let me ever hear you by-jockying, or by-'mg any thing else again, and l ie by jocky you with a witness, I'll warrant you.' But the black barrah,' said George, did'nt weigh as much for his size as the bob-tail speckle, though.' 'He did.' He did'nt.' 'Hush your disputing this instant stop . Ill m 1 . a .1 it you snail not contradict eacn otner in that manner. And let us hear no more of your hog-pen wonders no body wants to hear them. At this instant William snatched a pig-tail out of Isaac's hand. 'Ma' said Isaac, 'make Bill gi' me muh tail..' ' You William give him his thing. And, if I was near you I'd box your ears for that snatching. Mr. Butler, you really will have to take that fellow in hand. He's getting so that I can do nothing with him.' Ma,' said Bill,' he took my Hatha 'Hush!' 'I did'nt.' You did.' tDont I tell you to hush your disputing. Well ma, uncle York give it to me. He did'nt, uncle Monday give it to me.' He did'nt.' . Hedid.' Here the mother divided a pair of slaps equally between the two disputants, which silenced them for a few moments. At this juncture, Miss Rebecca cried out with a burnt finger ; which she received in cooking another pig-tail. The burn was so slight that she forgot it as her rri other jerk ed her from the fire. You little vixin, said the motherwhat possesses you to be fumbling about the fire! Mr, Butler I beseech you to" forbid the ne- groes giving these children any more of these poison pig-tails. They are a source oi endless torment. And now young gen tlemen one and all of you the next one of you that brings one of those things into ; this house again I'll box his ears as long as 1 can find him. Now remember it. Come along to your breakfast.' In a little time after some controversy about places which was arrested by the mo ther's eye, they were all seated ; John who had dropped in the mean time, takincr his father's seat. a a o ' Is-s-sp!' said William, ' sass'idges, that's what I love.' Hoo ! said Isaac, Spare-ribs !' that's what I love.' 'Well cease your gab, and eat what's set before you without comments. No body cares what you love or what you dont love.' Souse,' said Abraham, 'I dont love souse I would'nt eaf souse ta'n'tfitten for a dog to eat.' Get up sir ; right from the table, and march out of the house until you learn bet- ter manners. I'll be bound it I say you Do vou hear shall eat souse, vou eat it. me sir.' Abraham raked himself lazily out of his seat, and moved slowly off, castinc- a long jing look at the many good things on the ta uie which no uiuujmi men or a nnnp.fi o i eat. to Ma, said he as he retired, ' I wish you'd make Bill quit laughing at me.' , 'William, il've as great a mind as I ever had to do any thing in my life, to send you from the table, and not iet you eat one mouthful. I despise that abominable dis position you have, of rejoicing at your bro ther's misfortunes. Remember sir, what Solomon says: he that is glad at calami ties shall not be unpunished.' Ma,' said Abraham, ' may'nt 1 come to I 1 J a my Dreaktast. Yes, if you think you can now behave yourself with decency.' . Abraham returned ; and they all broke forth at once. 'Ma,' may'nt I have some sassidge?' Ma, I want some spare-rib.' Ma, la'n't got no coffee.' ' Ma, if you please ma'am let me have some ham-gravy, and some fried homony, and some egg, and ' And some of every thing on the table I suppose ! rut down your plates every one of you. George what'H you have.' Some sassidge, and some fried potato.' ' John, help your brother George.' What do you want William V ' I want some spare-rib and some fried homony.' ' Chaney, help William.' ' What do you want Abraham V ' I reckon,' said John smiling, ' he'd like a little souse. Now John behave yourself. He has suffered the punishment of his fault, and let it there rest.' I'll have,' said Abraham, ' some ham- gravy, and some egg, and some homony ' Help him Uhaney.' What'H you have Isaac V I'll have sortie ham-gravy and some hom ony and some sassidge, and some spare-rib and some ' Well you're not a going to have every thing on the table I assure you. What do you want ?' I wantsomeliam-gravy, and some hom ony.' John help I -' No, I dont want no gravy, I want some spare-rib.' John give hinv ' No, I dont want no spare-rib, I want sassidge ' 'Well if you dont make up your mind pretty quick, you'll want your breakfast, I'll tell you. I'm not going to be tantalized all day long with your wants. Say what you want and have done with it.' 'I want some ham gravy and some sas sidge, and some homony.' Help him John.' 'John helped him to about a tea-spoon- full from each dish.' 'Now ma, jist look at bud John ! He h'a'n't gi'rae only jist these three little bits o'bits? 'John, if you cant keep from tantalizing the children, tell me so, and I will not trou ble you to help them any more. I confess' that I am at a loss to discover what plea sure one of your age can take in teazing your younger brothers.' Rebecca what do you want.' I want my pig tail ma'am? 'Bless my soul and body, hav'nt you for got that pig-tail yet. I'ts burnt up long ago I hope. Look Bob and see, and if it is'nt, give it to her. I wish in my heart there never was a pig-tail upon the face of the earth.' Bob produced the half charred pig-tail and laid it on Miss Rebecca's plate. There,' continued her mother, I hope now your heart's at ease. A beautiful dish it is truly, for any mortal to take a fancy to.' Ma, I dont want this pig tail.' , Take it away -I knew you did'nt want it, you little perverse brat, I knew you did'nt want it; and I dont know what got into me to let yon have it. But really I am so. tor mented out of my life, that half the time I hardly know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels. Mis'es,' said Chaney, aunt Dorcas say please make Miss Louisa come out of the kitchen say if you dont make her come 0 m out o" the fire she'll git burnt tip presently say every time she tell her to come out o' the fire she make mouth at her.' Why sure enough, where is Louisa! Go and tell her to come into her breakfast this instant.' 'I did tell her ma'am: and she say che wont come, till she gets done bakin' her cake.' Mr. Butler left the room, and soon re-appeared with Louisa sobbing, and crying : 'Aunt Dorcas jerked me jist as hard as ever she could jerk, Tore I did any thing 'tall to her.' 'Hold your tongue! She served you right enough: you'd no business in there. You1 re a pretty thing to be making mouths at a person old enough to be your grandmother. If I'd thought when I gave you that little lump of dough, that the whole plantation was to be turned up side down about it, I'd have let you do without it.' Miss Louisa, after a little sobbing and pouting, drew from her apron, a small -dirty, ashey, black, wrinkled, burnt biscuit, warm from the kitchen shovel, which would have been just precisely the proper accom paniment to Miss Rebecca's dish; and upon this, in preference to every thing on the ta ble, she commenced her repast. 'Well Lou,' said the mother with a laugh as she cast her eye upon the unsightly bis cuit, 'you certainly have a strange taste!' Every body knows, that the mother's laugh is always responded to with com pound interest by all her children. So was it in this instance; and good humor prevailed round the table. 'I'm sorry,' said Abraham, 'for Louisa's b-i-s, bis, k-i-t, kit, biskit.y . T 11 mm v wen really, said Mrs. a., you are a handsome speller. Is that the way you spell bucuit V I can spell it ma! bawled out Isaac. Well spell it.' B-i-s, bisc ('Well that's right.') h Ah well that '11 do, you needn't go any farther; you've missed it farther than your brother.' 'Spell it William.' W-illiam fplled it correctly. 'Ma, said George, 'what is biscuit deri ved from?' I really do not know,' said Mrs. B.,'and yet I have somewhere read an explanation of it. John what is it derived from John. From the French; bis twice, and cuit baked. William. Why ma, you do'nt bake bis cuits twice over! Abraham. Yes ma does sometimes;do'nt you ma, when company comes? Mother. No; I sometimes warm over cold ones, when I havn't tfme to make fresh ones, but never bake them twice. Butler. They were first made to carry to sea; and they were then baked twice o ver; as I believe sea biscuit still are. Isaac. Ma what's breakfast 'rived from? Mother. Spell it and you will see ? Isaac. B-r-e-c-k, breck, f-u-s-t, fust, breakfast. Mother. Well Ike, you arc a grand spel ler. Break-fast, is the word ; not breck fust. Abraham. I know what it comes from. Mother. What? Abraham. You know when you call us chil'en to breakfast, .we all break off and run as fast as we can split. Mother. Well that is a brilliant deriva tion truly. Do you suppose there was no breakfast before you children were born? Abraham. But ma, every body has chil' en. Mrs. Butler explained the term. Isaac, horn. Ma I know what sassidge comes Mother. What ? Isaad 'Cause its got sass in it. Well there, there, there, I've got enough of your derivations unless they were better. You'll learn all these things as you grow older. Just here, Miss Sarah, who had been breakfasted at a sidelable, was seized with a curiosity to see what was on the break fast table. Accordingly, she undertook to draw her self up tb the convenient elevation by the tablecloth. Her mother arrested her iust in time to save a cup, and pushed her aside with a gentle admonition. This did not a batc Miss Sarah's curiosity in the least, and she recommenced her experiment. Her mother removed her a little more emphati cally this time. These little interruptions only fired Miss Sarah's zeal; and she was returning to the charge with redoubled en ergy, when she ran her cheek against the palm of her mother's hand with a rubifa cient force. Away she went to her grandmother, cry ing 'Gramma, ma whipp tl your precious darlin angel baby.' Did she my ilarling! Then grandma's precious darling angel baby must be a good child, and mother won't whip it any more.' Well I will be a dood chile.' WeH then mother wont whip it any more.' And this conference was kept op without the variation of a letter on either side, until the grandmother deemed it ex pedient to remove Miss 'Sarah to an adjoin ing room, lest the mother should insist up on the immediate fulfilment of her prom ses. Ma just look at Abe!' cried out William, 'he saw me going to take a biscuit and he snatched up the very one I was lookin at. 'Abe,1 said the mother 'I do wish I could make you quit nicknaming each other; and I wish more that I never set you the exam-? pie put down that biscuit sir, and take an other.' j Abraham returned the biscuit, and Wil Ham took it up with a sly, but triumphant giggle at Abraham. I Ma.'said Abraham.'Bill said "Goddum? Law, what a story! Ma, declare I nev er said no such thing.' Yes you did, and Chaney heard you. William's countenance immediately show ed that his memory had bee nsre freshed; and he drawled out never none now,' with h tone and countenance that plainly imparted guild to some extent. His mother suspect ed he was hinging upon technics, and she put the probing question Well what did you say I said, I be teto'tly odum. And that's just as bad. Mr. Butler, you positively will have to take this boy in hand. He "evinces a strong propensity to profane swearing which if not corrected immediate ly will become ungovernable.! Whenever you can't manage him,' said Butler as before, 'just turn hihi over to me, and I reckon I can cure him.'j 'When did he say it?' enquired the mo ther, returning to Abraham, i You know that time you sent all us chil 'en to the new-ground to pick peas !' Why that's been three months ago at least ; and you've just thought now of tel ling it. ' OA you malicious toail you, where do you learn to bear malice so long! I ab hor that trait of character in alchild.' 'Ma,' said Bill, Abe ha'n't said his pray ers for three nights.' Abe and Bill now exactly Swapt places and countenances. Yes,' said the mother, and I suppose I should never have heard of that, if Abraham had not told of your profanity' I know better,' dragged out Abraham, in reply to William.' Abraham,' said the mother solemnly, did you kneel down when you said yur prayers last night ?' 1 . Yes ma'am,' said Abraham brightening1 a little. i Yes ma, continued Bill, he kneels down and 'fore I say now I lay me down; to sleep,' he jumps up every night and hops in bed and says he's done said this prayers, and he ha'n't had time to say half a prayer.' During this narrative, my name sake kept ; cowering under the steadfast frown of his mother, until he transformed himself into the perfect personification of idiocy. How many prayers did ybu say last night Abraham ?' pursued the rn other in an awfully portentous tone. j I said one, and ' (here Abraham paus- ed.) J One and what ?' One and piece of t'other onf .' Why ma, he could'nt ha said it to save his life for he had'nt time i ' Hush sir, I dont ask for ance.' your assist- I did, muttered Abraham, 'I said t'other piece after I got in bed.' Abraham,' said his mother, I declare I ; do not know what to say to you. I am so . mortified, so shocked at this conduct, that. I am completely at a loss how to express . myself about iu Suppose you had died last night after trifling with your prayers as you did ; who can say what would have be come of you! Is it possible that you can- not spend a few minutes tn prayer to your Heavenly Father, who feeds j you, who clothes you, and who gives you every good thing you have-in the world.' fYou poor sinful child, I could weep over you.' Poor Abraham evinced such deep contri tion under this lecture, (for he sobbed as if his heart would break,) that his mother deemed it prudent to conclude with sua sives ; which she did in the happiest man ner. Having thus restored Abraham's equa nimity in a measure, with a gently encour aging smile, she continued : - - And now Abraham, tell your mother how you came to say apart of the second prayer?' I could'nt go to sleep till I said it tnaam. Well that is a good sign at .least. And what part was it ? God bless my father and mother,' Mrs. Butler felt quickly for her handker chief. It had fallen from her lap, and she was glad of it. She depressed her head be low the table in search of it-dismissed the children before she raised it and then rose with a countenance suffused with smiles and tears. Poor babes,' said she, 'what au odd com pound of good and bad they are ! The grandmother returned just at this time, and discovering some uneasiness at Mrs. Butler's tears, the latter explained. As she concluded The Lord bless the poor dear boy,' exclaimed the venerable matron, raising her apron to her eyes, 4that shows he's got a good heart No danger of the child that can't sleep till he prays for his father-and mother. System. Curran said to G rattan, You would be the greatest man of our age, if vou would buy a few yards of red tape, and tie up your-bills and papers."
The Weekly Raleigh Register (Raleigh, N.C.)
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Oct. 29, 1838, edition 1
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