For the Anti-Slavery Bugle.
THE TYRANT'S WARNING.
BY THOMAS WICKERSHAM.
Deliver him that is spoiled out of the
hand of the oppressor, lest my fury go out
like fire, and burn that none can quench it."
" Deliver him" thus saith he,
Whose dwelling is Infinity
The God Omnipotent
" Deliver him whose soul is spoil'd,
Who unrequited, long has toil d,
Whose aspiratiuns all are foil'd,
Whose joy of life is spent.
" Deliver him whose form is how'd
Beneath the haughty and the proud
Oppressor's power whose wailings loud
Ascend unto my throne;
Deliver him whose soul is crush'd,
Whose spirit-breathings all ore hush'd,
Whose tears in agony have gnsh'd
With each upheaving groan.
' Deliver him whose mental sight,'1
Is whelmed in dark and gloomy night,
Till it is stricken by the blight
Of his unceasing woe;
Whose spirit with oppression groans
Who 'neath his burdens sighs and moans,
Uplooking with imploring tones,
Beseeching, 'let me go.'
" Deliver him whose wages, long
Have been withcld from him by wrong
Whose arm is weak that once was strong,
From unremitted 'toil;
Who cricth unto me all day,
Who bows beneath the tyrant's sway,
Until, with age, his head is gray,
And bow'd unto the soil.
" Deliver him whose heart is riven
From kindled hearts whose wife is given
A prey before his eyes, and driven
Forever from his sight;
Whose dearest ties are torn apart,
And left alone to feel the smart
Of agony, consume his heart,
' Till it is seared with blight.
' Deliver her whose child is torn
From out her arms, and rudely borne
Away, while she is left to mourn
Its loss with wailings wild;
Who feels upon her flesh the smart
Of stripes, because when forced to part
From her loved one, her breaking heart
Cries out, lmy child! 'my child!'
"Deliver those from whom tho ray
Of Heaven's light is shut away,
Whose noble facrlties all lay
In superstition's gloom;
Who 'neath the slaver's gory rod,
Are made to kiss the blighted sod,
And worship slavery's domon-god,
Then sink into the tomb.
Deliver him whose mouth is dumb,
Lest 8 wift destruction on you come.
With fiery vengeance for the sum
Of all your villany
Lest like the whirlwind with its scath,
Consuming fury cross your path
And rushing in avenging wrath,
Shall crimson land and sea!
" Deliver him whom you have bound,
For quickly shall the trumpet sound,
To dash the tyrant to the ground,
Beneath the trampling heel;
For brimfull with dread vengeance flows
The red wine cup of wrath for those
Who side by side stand with my foes,
Whose doom, despair shall seal.
" Deliver him" it is the word
Of Him whose voice in darkness heard,
The elements of chaos stirr'd,
And called this world to birth;
"Deliver him, scarred with the lash,
Lest scathing thunders o'er you crash,
And waves of dark damnation dash
You from the realms of earth!"
Clinton Co., O.
From the Christian Citizen.
THE WARRIOR'S RETURN.
The banner and bugle are coming this way,
The warrior from battle returneth to-day;
The cannon is waking its echoes about,
The delicate girls to his triumph come out!
Go pull up tho moss-turf to carpet the street,
And wreath up the laurel to toss at his feet:
Let beauty look on him from hamlet and town
No matter what won him his lofty renown;
Ask not for the storv what do te with nninl
Leave tears to the dim eyes that watch for
To the widow-made bride who is tearimr her
And shrieking aloud in her first young des-
To the sister who kneelelh all night on the
Whom nope hath left mad by the red gaping
Leave sighs to the wounded whose cry go
In vain for the draught of the cool healir."
Who only is found in the horrible hour
By the raven that waiteth to tear and davour.
But gaze at the star on tho cavalier's breast,
The foamy-white feather that floats on his
The sheen of his sword, and the flash of his
Ajid wave your white hands as his steed dash
That noble proud cieature! ay, honor Aim too;
Full bravely he stood when the war-lightning
He laughed 'along the trumpets, the shriek
and the shout, .
Where 'lifo like the tempest-blown candle'
Went out. - -' :
Y m"deckk " th eTeeoaa topping th
His lilho prancing limbs', and his haughty
But remember ye not how in blood boilin"
He trod out tho lifo that lay under his fect.
But sing to the man of the daring high.
And worship the glance of his glorious eye;
Ana pray on uio morrow iui ihuvmiuds in
ward. The kingdom of peace, and tho reign of the
THE ONLY SON.
BY MRS. JANE WEAVER.
Mr. Harcourt sat alono in his study. The
walls were crowded with book-cases filled
with the massive tomes of the law; his table
was covered with papers of importance; and
a oils of notes, which had just been paid
him hv a client, lav close at his elbow. The
costlv'lamn that hung above his head throw
its light full on the upper part of his face,
bringing tho massy brow out into bold relief,
and giving additional sternness and promiso
to his cold and inflexible features. All at
once he rang the bell.
1 Is master James arrived?' he said sharp'
ly when the servant entered.
In a few moments the door of the study a
train onencd, and the lawyer's only son stood
in the presence of his father. He was a
youth of about seventeen, fair and manly to
gaze upon, but with the look of dissipation
in his countenance which mars the noblest
beauty. An expression of feminine softness
and irresolution in his face, contradicted tho
proud and self-willed glance of dark glowing
eyes. He seemed indeed to judge from his
look, to bo wholly a creature ot impulse.
'So you have been in another scrape, sir!'
said tho old man harshly.
The youth bowed his head and bit his lip.
It cost me four hundred dollars to pay for
the carriage that was broken, and the horse
foundered in your drunken frolic. What
have you to say to that, sir?'
The young man's eye waniV.red rc3i,lutcly
around the room, without during to meet his
father's lace. Nor did he make any reply.
How long is this to last? 3ald his parent
in a more angry tone. Have I not told you
again and again, that 1 would disown you if
these things went on? You r a disgrace, Sir,
to me a blot to my name. Thank God your
mother did not live to see you grow up!'
The youth had been evidently nerving hirrir
Belf to hear his father's rebukes wiih as much
coolness and indifference as possible, but at
the mention of his mother's name his lip
quivered, and he turned away his head to
hide the tears that gathered in his eyes. Had
that stern, irritable old man known how to
follow the chord ho had struck, his son might
yet have been snvr.l; Imt ho was a hard, cor
rect man, unaccustomed to make allowance
for difference of character, and he resolved to
drive his son into obedience by the strong
arm of parental authority.
' You turn away to laugh, you rascal, do
you?' said he, enraged. You believe, bo
cause ynu are my child, I will not disinherit
you. But I would cast you off if you were
ten times my son; and I made up my mind
to day lo tell you at once to go. There is a
pile of notes fivo hundred dollars, I believe;
take it, and to-morrow I will make it a thou
sand, before you depart. But remember, this
is the last night you shall pass under my
roof the last cent of money you shall ever
When his mother was alluded to, the youth
had almost made up his mind to step forward,
ask pardon for all his evil courses and prom
ise solemnly hereauer to live a lite ot strict
propriety; but the sharp and angry tono in
which Mr. Harcourt pursued the conversa
tion and the words of banishment with which
it closed, seemed to make him irresolute. He
colored, turned pale, and parted his lips as if
to speak; then he clasped his hands in sup
plication, but the cold, contemptuous look
of his father checked him, and he remained
silent. The angry flush, however, lose a
gain to his cheek, and became fixed there.
' Not a word, sir,' said the father. ' It is
too late for pleading now. Don't be both a
blackguard and a cowarJ. I told you if you
ever got into a discreditable difficulty I would
disown you. But warning did no good.
You must reap as you have sown. Will
The youth seemed again about to speak,
but his words choked him. Tho spirit of
the son as well as that of the father, was a
roused. He felt that tho punishment was
disproportioned to the offence, even great as
it had been. lie took the notes whteh his
fiarent held out to him, crumpled them hasti
y together, and flinging them scornfully
back, turned and left the room. The next
instant the street door closed with a heavy
' lie has not gone, surely?' said his father,
startled for a moment. But his brow darken
ed as his eye fell on the notes. ' Yet lcthim
go the heartless villian he is hereafter no
son of mine. Better die childless than have
an heir who is a disgrace to your name. Did
I not do my duty to hiin?'
James Harcourt went forth from his father's
house in utter despair. Bride had supported
hiin during the last few moments of the inter
view, and he had met his stern parent's male
diction with bitter defiance; but when the
door had closed upon him, aud he turned to
take a last look at the window which was
once his mother's, the tears gushed again in
to his eyes, and covering his face in his
hands, he sat down on a neighboring step,
and sobbed convulsively. 'O ! if she had
been living,' he said, 'it would never have
come to this. She would not havo left me tj
form associations with those who wished to
make 'a prey of me she would not have
galled ine by stern, and often undeserved re
proaches she would not have turned me from
my house with no place whither to go. and
the temptations around me on every side.
Oh ! my mother,' he said; casting his eyes to
heaven, 'look down on me and pity your
At that instant the door of his f ithir's
house opened us if soma one was about to
cjuie forth. A momentary hopo shot through
hiin, that his parent had rldented. But no !
it was only a sen-ant who had beeu called to
close tho shutters. Ashamed to berecognlz
ed, the youth hastily arose, turned a corner
Years rolled on. The lawyer rose in
wealth and consideration; honors were heap
ed profusely on him; he became a member of
Congress, a Senator, a Judge. His sump
tuous carriage rolled through the streets dai
ly, to bear him to and from Court. An invi
tation to his dinners were received in triumph,
they were so select. In every respect Judge
Harcourt was a man to be envied.
But was he happy? He might have been.
He had no one tn hee. Ho felt that people
cou-ted him only from interested motives.
O, how he longed to know what had become
of his discarded boy, confessing to himself,
now that years had removed the veil from
his eyes, how horribly he had used the cul
prit. ' Perhaps, if I had borne with him a little
longer, ho might have reformed,' he said,
with a sigh, 'lie always had a good heart,
and his poor mother used to say he was so
obedient. But he got led away.'
At this instant a servant cautiously opened
h'.s library door.
'It is almost ten o'clock, your honor,' he
said, 'and the carriage is at the door.'
'Av. av.' said the indue rising, as the ser
vant disappeared. 'Iliad forgot myself.
And that desperate fellow, Roberts, is to oe
tried to-day, for the limit robbery.'
Many an obsequious bow greeted the judgo,
as the officers of the court niado way for him
through the crowd, for the trial was ono of
unusual interest, and had collected large num.'
hers. He smiled afTably on all, and taking
his sent, ordered the business to proceed.
I he prisoner was brought in, a large, bold,
fine-louking man, but the judge, occupied
wilh a case he heard the day before, and in
which ho was writing out an opinion, gave
little notice to the criminal, or indeed to any
of the proceedings, until the usual formalities
had been gone through, nnd tho serious part
ol the evidence began to be heard. 1 hen
the judge, for the first time, directed a keen
glance to the prisoner. ' Surely I have seen
that face before,' ho said. But he could not
remember where; and he turned to scrutinize
Tho case was a clear one. The testimony
when completed, formed a mass of evidence
that was irresistible. Two men swore posi
tively to the person of the accused as that of
one of the robbers; and the jury immediate
ly cave a verdict of guilty, after a bitterly se
vere charge against the prisoner from the
bench. 1 he punishment was death.
On hearing tho verdict, the prisoner rose
lirmly and drew lumselt to his lull height,
But, before sentence wjs pronounced, he ask
ed leave to say a few words. Ho did it in so
earnest a tone, that the judgo immediately
granted it, wondering that a man who was so
courageous should stop to beg for his I lie.
' 1 acknowledge my crime,' said the pris
oner, 'nor do I seek to palliate it nor either
do I ask lor mercy. 1 can lace death; 1 havo
faced it a dozen times. But I wish to say a
word on the cause that brought mo to this
r.vcry neck was strained forward to catch
tho words of the speaker; even the judge
leaned over the bench, controlled by an inter
est for which he could not account.
I wis born of respectable, nay, distin
guished parents,' sai l the man, 'and one at
least was an angel. But she died early, and
my father, immersed in ambitious schemes,
quite forgot me, so tint I was left to form my
own associations, which, therefore, naturally
were not all of the most unexceptionable kind.
By and by, my irregularities began to attract
my father's,noliee. He reproved ine too harsh
ly. Recollect I was spoiled by indulgence. I
soon committed another youthful folly. My
punishment this time, was more severe and
quite as ill-advised as before. 1 was a crea
ture of impulse, pliable either for good oroad
and my only surviving parent fell into the
error of attempting to drive me when he
should have persuaded mo with kindness.
The fact is, neither of us understood each
other. Well, matters went on thus for two
years and more; I was extravagant, rebellious,
dissipated; my parent was hard and unfor
giving. 'At length,' continued the speaker, turn
ing full on tho judge until their ryes met,
'at length ono evening, my parent sent for
me into tho study. I had been guilty of
some youthful folly, and having threatened
ma about a fortnight Lr-foro with disinheri
tance if I again vexed hiin, ho now told me
that henceforth I was to be no son of his, but
an outcast and beggar. He said too, he
thanked God, my mother had not lived to
see that day. That touched me. Had he
then cpoken kindly had he given mo a
chance, I might have reformed, hut ho irrita
ted me with hard words, checked my rising
promptings of good by condemning me un
heard and sent me forth alone into the world.
From thai hour,' continued the prisoncr,spcak
ing rapidly and with great emotion, ' I was
desperate. I went out from his door a home
less, penniless boy. My former associates
would have shrunk from mo, even if I had
not been too proud to see them. All decent
society was shut against me. I soon became
almost stir.-ed for want of money. But what
needs it to tell the shifts I was dm en to? I
slept in miserable hovels I consorted with
the lowest I gambled, 1 cheated, and yet I
could scarcely got my broad. You, who sit
in luxurious homes, know not the means to
which the miserable outcast must resort for
a livelihood! But enough. From one step
I passed to another, WW I am hero. From the
moment I was cast out of my father's house, my
fite was inevitable, leading me by constantly
descending st-ps, until I became the felon I
now am. And 1 stand here to-day, ready to
endure the utmost penalty of your law-), care
less of tho future, as I havo been reckless of
He ceased; and now released from the tor
rent of his passionate eloquence,, which had
ch'inel their eyes ti him, the rp.vtatnrg
turned toward tho jud -e, to see wlmt effect
tho prisoner's words hnd produced. Well
was it that no one had looked there before,
else that proud man had sunk cowering
from his seat. They would have seen how
his eye gradually quailed before tho speaker
how he turned ashy pale how his whole
face, at length became convulsed with agony.
Ay! old man , remorse was now lully awake.
In the criminal he had recognized his own
son ? He thought then of the words ho had
once used; ' As you sow, so shall you reap.'
Hut by a mighty effort he was enabled to
hear the prisoner to the end, and then feeling
as if every eye was upon him, penetrating
this terrible secret in his looks, he sank with
a groan, senseless to the earth.
i ne cuniusiou uiai oecureu in me court
house, when it was found that the judge had
been taken suddenly ill, as the physician said
by a stroko of the apoplexy, led to the post
ponement of the prisoner's sentence, and be
fore the next session of the court, the culprit
had received a conditional pardon, the result,
it was said, of the mitigating circumstance,
which he had urged so eloquently on his tri
al. The terms on which a large portion of
citizens petitioned for his pardon require that
he should forever lifter reside abroad. It was
said that the judge, although scarcely recov
ered, had taken such an interest in the prison
er as to visit him in a long and secret inter
view, the night beforo ho saile ' for F.uropc.
A year after these events, Judy;-. Harcourt
resigned his office on the plea of ill health &
having settled his affairs, embarked for the
old world where he intended to reside for ma
ny years. Ho never returned to America.
Travellers said that he was residing in a se
cluded valley of Italy, with a man in the
prime of life, who passed for his adopted son.
A smiling family of grand-children surroun
ded him. The happy father could say, in the
language of Scripture, 'this my son was dead
and is alive again, he was lost and is found.'
IMAGE OF CHRIST.
In a late paper written by Lydia Maria
Child of New York for the Huston Courier,
is the following interesting notice of a beauti
ful image of Christ now on exhibition in that
'A little further down Broadway is now ex
hibited a very reinarkablo ivory imago of
Christ on the Cross. I never saw a work ot
art that impressed me so powerfully. Tho
subject is usually painful to me, like all oth
ers that represent physical suffering. But
the artist has here chosen the moment when
bodily agony has passed away, leaving no
trace, buta very slight contraction of the brow.
The languor of death has gone over it, and the
serene and holy expression of the departed
soul alono remains on the beautiful counte
nance. I think 1 never saw anything so per
fectly divine in its expression as the mouth.
The anatomy of the figure is wonderful. Tho
tension of the muscles, and swelling of every
little vein, are shown as plainly as if it were
indeed a crucified human figure. The de
velopement of the head, too, is such as be
longs to a character where the high moral
qualities predominate. This perfection in de
tails is the more remarkable, because the ivo
ry was wrought by a poor monk of St. Nich
olas, who knew nothing about the making of
images. He was seized upon by a "divino
mania," the result of intense feeling and re
ligious meditation, lie thought "the dear
Lord and gracious Mary Mother" would aid
him in so holy a labor; and suddenly a vision
tprung up within him. It would never pass
away from him; and if his thoughts wander
ed for a moment into the world, he would
bow himself with sighs and tears beforo the
form ho was shaping. His pennm-e was to
continue his prayers r.ud his slow labor, with
out food, drink, or sleep, ("or twei.ty or
thirty hours, through the night, till the
day-break looked into his cell. On such oc
casions he sometimes saw a miraculous glory
encircling the lieaa of the figure. Thus he
worked upon it four years, ever cherishing
the hope that it would be placed in soinu
church where it would be reverenced by all
the people. Mr. Lester, our consul at Ge
noa, overcame his reluctance to sell it, by as
suring him that in America it would be an ob
ject of great veneration. I cannot help feel
ing some sympathy with the poor devotional
monk, when I see this work of prayer and
tearsexhibited in Broadway for two shillings,
instead of being preserved in some consecra
ted niche, as ho so devoutly hoped. It is ex
hibited on the second floor; and I see the pa
pers say, that "Ae Christ must be brought
duwn, because the proplc will no! uo np." This
has been the practical teachingof the Christ
ian church, ever since Constantine wedded it
to tho state. Hence its priests sustain tho
gallows, and pray for the success of armies.'
ON SEEING THE IVORY STATUE OF CHRIST
The enthusiast brooding in his cell apart
O'er the sad image of the Crucified,
The drooping head, closed lips and pier
A holy vision fills his raptured heart,
Wilh heavenly power inspired, his unskil
Shapes tho rude block to this transcendant
Oh Son of God! thus, ccr thus, would I
Dwell on the loveliness enshrined in Thee,
The lofty faith, the sweet humility,
The boundless love the lovo that could not
And as the sculptor, with thy glory warm,
Gives to this chiseled ivory thy fair form,
So would my spirit in thy Thought divine
Grow to a semblance fair as this of Thine.
Broadway Journal. Anne C. Lynch.
An English paper, the Western Times, re
lates the following incident:
"Budleigh Salterman has been the scene of
a most thrilling incident. Six infant chil
dren on Wednesday morning, got into a boat
on tho beach, und a mischievous boy shoved
ii off. The boat drifted away to sea before
the children were missed. Terrible was the
agony of the mothers when they knew it.
Daylight returned, and still there was no ti
dinjs of tho helpless children: the day wore
away, and still nothing was hwrd of them .
they were lost either i'i the, expanse of tli3
wido octju, or buried within its insat'alilu
depths. A Plymouth trawler, on Friday
limning early, while fishing taw sonething
floating at a distance; she bore down to it ai.d
discovered it to bo a boat and in the bottom
six children cuddled together like a nest of
birds fast alcep, God having mercifully giv
en that blessed solace after a day of terror
and despair. Tho trawler took them aboard,
feasted them with bread and cheese, and
gladdened their despairing little hearts with
a promise to take them home. Between
threo and four in the afternoon the trawler
was neen in the offing wilh the boat astern.
All eyes were turned towards her; the best
spy glass in town was rubbed again and a-
gain, nnd at last they made out that it
was the identical boat. 1 he news llew
through the town tho mothers came frantic
to the beach, for there were no children dis
cerned in the boat; none to be seen in the
sloop. Intense was the agony of susponse,
nnd all alike shared it with the parents. At
last the trawler came in, and the word went
round, "they're all safe," and many stout
hearted men burst into tears, women shriek
ed with joy, and became almost frantic with
their insupportable happiness. It was indeed
a memorable day, and a prayer, eloquent for
its rough sincerity, was offered up to Almigh
ty God, who in his infinite mercy, had spat
ed these innocent children from tho perils
nnd terrors if the sea, during that fearful
night. Five of these children were under
five years of age, the sixth was b it nine years
His letters put me in mind of tumi 't and
anarchy; there is sedition in every sentence;
syllable has no longer any confidence in syl
lable, but dissolves its connection as prefer
ring an alliance with the succeeding word.
A page of his epistle looks like the floor nf a
garden-house, covered with old, crooked nails
which have just been released from a centu
ry's duranco in a brick wall. I cannot cast
my eyes on his characters, without being re
ligious. This is the only good effect 1 have
derived from his writing; he brings into my
mind the resurrection, aud paints the tumul
tuous resuscitation of awakened men with a
pencil of masterly confusion. I am fully
convinced of one thing, either that he or his
pen is intoxicated when he writes to me, for
his letters seem to have borrowed the reel of
wine, and stagger from one corner of the sheet
ti the other. They remind me of Lord Cha
tham's administration, lying together heads
and points in one truckle-bed. Dr. I'arr.
AN INDIAN HANGING.
The first Indian that was capitally execu
ted by the Cherokees.undera Cherokee Sher
iff, was a man named Nat, who was hanged
several years ago, about five miles from Van
Burcn, Arkansas, for the murder of another
Indian, who was called Musquito. Wc have
the particulars from an eye witness. The
Sheriff had caused a gallows to be erected a
short distance from the Court Lodge, but
when the culprit was brought to it, he being
a very tall man, it was found to be loo short
for his accommodation, and some other plnro
had to bo sounht for the execution. Tho
whole band of Indians, with the Sheriff and
Nat in the midst of tliein, then betook them
selves to the banks of the Arkansas.in search
of a proper tree from which to suspend the
prisoner; and alter a litllo time, a tall cotton
wood was lound with a projecting brarch far
i'p tho t-i.rik. that in the opinion of all was
suitable for tho purpose. Nat, now that Ml
things were ready, expressed a wish to batl.o
iu the river once more, w hich he was permit
ted to do,carefu!ly pu.T.led by the rifles frcm
the shore. He went into the water, frolick
ed about for some time, swam to and fro with
great apparent pleasure then came to the
shore, donned his blanket and stood ready for
tho last act of the drann. The sheriff now
told him to climb the tree, which he com
menced doing, the officer of tho law toiling
up after hiin with thelatal cord. Nat reac
ed the projecting limb of tho tree, and wim
desired by the Sheriff to work himself as far
out upon it, from tho trunk, as he could
which was done, the Sheriff adjusted tho
noose around his neck, nnd tied the other end
of tho rope around the limb. All these prep
arations were conducted with the utmost cool
ness, and the most perfect good understand
ing existed between tho Sheriff and the Indi
an. hen all the arrangements were com
pleted, tho Sheriff told Nat that ho would
sliJe down the tree to the ground, and make
a signal when he, the prisoner must jump off
the limb to which Nat cheerfully assonted.
Tho Sheriff reached the ground, and looking
up to the limb upon which sat the poor vic
tim, he shouted " Now, Nut, you red devil,
jump !" And jump Nat did, und after a few
struggles, hung a mass of lifeless clay, to the
infinite wonderment of his rej brethren, who
had never before bn.-n regaled with the sight
of an execution of th.it kin J.
A great lie, says the poet Crabb, is like a
fish on dry land; it may fret and fling, and
make a frightful bother, but it cannot hurt yon
You have only to keep still and it will dio of
.fwi Slavery Publication
. 2. S122A0iIl'i'2I IKraBUBDBX ha.
just received and has now for salo at ber
boarding house, Sarah Galbreath's, west end
of High st.
THE CONSTITUTION A PRO-SLAV
ERY COMPACT, or selections from
the Madison Papers.
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THIEVES,
OR A Tni'E PICTURE Of THE AMERICAN
Church and Ci.ergv, by S. S. Foster.
COME OUTERISM, or the dutv or se
cession from a CORRUPT church, by Wm.
THE AMERICAN CHURCHS the BUL.
WARKS OF AMERICAN SLAVERY,
by James G. Birney,
"THE DISUNION1ST," by Wendell Ph'il-
"ARCHY MOORE" by Richard R. Hil
drelh. "VOICES OF THE TRUE HEARTED'
From No. 1 to ti inclusive.
PORTRAIT OF LUOIMJTIA MOTT.
CHANNI n'G's LAST ADDRESS.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF FRED
xml | txt