% Salt of gm\ ana ?nln foot.
SI Voices from the distance call me, soft and low,
Mournful voices, ever chanting, 'long ugo.' "
Through the dim vista Of by-gone
years come stealing faintly the fairy
?himes of Memory Bells. Gentle, mourn
- fill, Memory Bells! how dreamily ye are
pfrrS&sd to my charmed ear, waking deep
thoughts of fluted years within my heart,
and opening, with magic hand, the misty
$>Drtals of the past, thus revealing to my
fcager gaze the light and shadows of
Oh! how dark were the shadows, hang?
ing so gloomily o'er my young pathway,
Ukc boding clouds o'er a summer sky, and
nearly crushing the spirit too proud to
ifcvecd its internal woo to the careless
world. Oh, no! even in the darkest
hour, when my faithful monitor, "bright
winged hope," had deserted me, and de?
spair, in all her gloomy array, was pro?
wling over my bleeding heart, even then
I moved with a careless smile, and a
proud gay light in my eye, convincing
the world that I was indeed as happy and \
as joyous as I seemed.
Accomplished and bcautifid. and sur- \
rounded by every luxury that wealth i
could procure, it was not strange that I
?houkl advance to girlhood, knowing no
will but my own, aud making no ellbrt to
subdue the wayward, passionate, though j
fondly trusting heart, or quenching the <
burning fire, even for the sake of that
fondly loved one?noble, manly Clarence
Dalford. Oh! how beautiful he was;
and, to me, so far superior to the gilded
butterflies among whom he moved with a
peculiar grace?so easy to him, and so
rarely attained. Handsome, taleutedand
wealthy, he was flattered and caressed
by all; and many a girlish heart beat
faster at his approach, while flushes over?
spread fair round cheeks at his winning
tfJStiie. But to me that smile was more
than all else on earth; it cheered and
soothed me as a ministering an go] gopthes
a suffering child. My hearl bowed down
tt> him. and lay panting at his feet, Joug
$ng to be taken to the manly heart; ami
S?0?r proudly and joyously boat that heart
?rhen those soft, dark. betiiitjfijl eyes
looked into mine ojrn, and that musical
voice told me that I was dear-er to him
iljau aught else on e;jrj.h.
f And then followed day* of oh,' gucij de?
licious joy and happiness, when, earth was
%Q fi?e "a dream of bright-hucd flowery;"
ftnd then came the scorn and passion?
Jhe cniel, cruel words, the coM farewejl?
all these! And now they are brought
back to me on those softly-pcujingchjines.
and a remembrance of the Jon^-ca.r.ucgt,
agonizing gaze from those beautiful eyes,
and the tremulous voice murniuriijg :
"I have loved you. Aijjja, Heaven
knows how well; but, after (Lo^P words,
I can no longer remain t?ne to nry en?
gagement; farewell S"
And when he had gone?whim I hgd
pondered upon the words I had uttered.,
''The dusk grew round me, and my heart
'Wore still a duskier aspect."
I had forfeited love, esteem. everything
for a passion that had spent its whole
forco upon him, who had never, never
wronged me, but who had only endeavor?
ed to subdue the haughty, wayward spir?
it that would not be controlled.
* * * * * *
?'Anothersweet head on his bosom now claims a
i .rightful rest;
The curls arc wavy and golden, aud the eyes like a |
"Our home is looking very beautiful
now, Cousin Anna; will you come and
make the promised visit in preference to ,
!N?jypprt and Saratoga ?"
Thus wrote my Cousin Julia from her j
western home; and, three days later, I
was with her, wandering through the
lovely little village, conversing gaily of
"ajjld lang syne," and not noticing the de?
parting twilight until the sound of loud
laughter and boisterous voices warned us
J<? rotrace our footsteps, for twilight had
already deepened into night.
"It is somo intoxicated men from the
village tavern, Anna," whispered Julia;
?fjye will stop in here until they pass;"
and opening a small gate of fancy iron?
work, sho ushered me into an elegant
garden, delicious with the odor of vase
^xbtic plants. And up through the flow?
ering shrubbery bright lights were gleam?
ing, while a sweet, plaintive air was waft?
ed out through the low, open windows,
filling mc with a strange curiosity to be?
hold the inmates of the princely man?
Julia was still at the gate, and noisc
Jessly I passed up tho marble pavement
andpaused at the open windows, gazing j
in'upon a scene which caused my heart
to cease for a moment its throbbings, and
almost to quench the tide of life- There,
upon a low 6ilken couch, was Clarence
Dalford, with one arm fondly encircling
a girlish figure kneeling upon the rich
carpet beside him, and his white hand
swept away silken sunny curls from a
snowy brow, while his proud lips touch?
ed a crimsoned cheek often, and lovingly
Ids dark eyes rested upon the beautiful
one. And she! ah! she was wondrously
beautiful, with the golden curls, and eyes
of such a pure, beautiful blue that I al?
most fancied they had been cut from the
blue dome above me. And then those
fairy dimpled hands, so fondly lying up?
on the brow that I had so often passion?
ately kiased; and the lips were like dewy !
rosebuds, from which that low sweet
melody was gushing.
And this, then, wa? his chosen bride;
and, in his deep, fond love for this wor?
thier one, he had, no doubt, forgotten
me; while I was dreaming, ever sadly
dreaming of him?and his name was
breathed each evening in my prayers.
-Anna, Anna! where are yon ?" called
Julia, and startled, and awakened from j
my revcry, I joined her, saying careless?
Who resides here. Julia ?"
"Mr. Dalford," she replied; ??the
wealthiest man in the village; and oh !
Anna, so handsome."
" Yes, I saw him while in the garden."
I replied, smiling at her girlish enthusi?
asm; -and also a golden-haired, blue
"That is the mistress of the mansion,"
she interrupted; "and jusi the sweetest
darling that ever breathed. Mr. Dalford
nearly idolizes her?and I do not blame
him cither, for there never was a better
oi-a myre beautiful one than sweet Min?
Oh ! how those words to>'c anew my
Weeding heart! She had removed the
hurt doubt io my mind?and the bright
being I had beheld W<1? Ms bride ?' And
the gjoom deepened and darkened around
me, and hovering over niy bowed spirit
were Glindow*} sad and gloomy, wrapping
my heart in agonizing darkness and des?
pair; but through them all I bore the
s^Uie proud and seemingly happy spirit,
and mgved amid the jovoys ones, who
thrpnged Cousin Julia's beautiful home,
"the g*y<3St of the gny;" and none ever
knew of the dark unrest and grief-laden
heart beating beneath the proud, bnllaint
"3fyown?my darling!" Thtfne were
the words tha.t greeted my awakening
thoughts as I regained my eonjcjoijQness.
from that frightful fall. 1 could UUt dis?
tinctly recall the exact circumstances, on?
ly li V???P remembrance gf a .gay pic
nie.?a challenge to nice on horseback?a,
frightened, fiery steed, and then a dizzy,
pajniul shpek ; and that was. all I knew
until I found myself in that loved em?
brace, with his dear voice hi u runup jug
those fgiid words in my ear. And oh !
howl lodged to die then aud. there. But
thoughts of the, blue-eyed bride entered
my heart, and almost haughtily I cx
* Mr.' Dalferd, this is?"
But at th:jt moment the door opened
sofljy, and the golden head peeped in. and
'?he sweet voice said:
"Is she better, brother Clare ?"
Brother! what did she mean? I w^s
confused aud puzzled, and a lujppy
thought, and a hope that I had been mis?
taken, was breaking through the myste?
ry : and the hope was confirmed the next
moment when he presented me to his on?
ly sister $nd relative. Minnie Dalford.
And I weeping like a weary child, told
thom all; and once more I was takuu to
the loved embrace, and forgiveness grant?
ed, with the fond assurance that through
all the weary years jio other one but Min?
nie had held sway over the noble heart
And to-night he is reclining on the
same silken couch, but it is :iyt Minnie's
hand that brushes away the jetty curls;
she has another manly one to love. And
through the parted curtains comethesad
ly beautiful chimes of Memory Bells,
causing happy, joyous tears, and lifting
my heart to God the Giver of ail things,
thanking Him for subduing the haughty
heart, and guiding me to the safe shelter
of a husband's love, for dispelling the shad?
ows, and lending bright, glorious lights
to guide me to eternity
Cream cannot rise through a great depth
of milk. If, therefore, milk is desired to
retain its cream for a time, it should be
put into a deep narrow dish; and if desired
to free it of cream, pour jtinto a broad flat
dish, one inch in depth.
Rats?It is said may bo expelled from
your cellars and grainaries simply by scat?
tering a few stalks anc-, leave* of rqullon in
For the Intelligencer.
IiOttcrof a Southern Plauter, ou the Claims
of the Ministry to a Support.
Messrs. Editors.?As your paper is, in
part, dedicated to moral instruction, and
numbers among its patrons those who are
bound to the fulfilment of certain moral
and religious duties, we feel that no apol?
ogy is required for presenting the letter
of "a Planter" for publieatien, prefaced
by a few remarks.
The letter points'out the obligations of
a Christian to give of his substance to the
support of the Gospel, and the true meas?
ure of that obligation as enforced in the
Bible. And though written to urge the
members of the Methodist Chuch to do
their duty in this respect, we presume it
will be found alike applicable to those of
the other orthodox branches of the Chris?
tian Church. The writer makes au ap?
peal, timely in its character, for it is a
lamentable fact that, while in this young
and fruitful country, immense fortunes are
gathered, competence is general, and
money is lavished upon every temporal
enterprise, the coffers of the Church are
comparatively empty, her Ministers poorly
paid, and her efforts in the held of foreign
and domestic missions, and in supplying a
sound religious literature are crippled.?
This is a crying sin of the Church and
needs to be repented of.
Subscriptions to railroads and banks,
turnpikes and canals, are readily made;
nor do members flinch from paying lib?
eral salaries to their overseers, clerks and
other employees to supervise their tem?
poral interests, but are unwilling to allow
those whom God has sent to instruct them
in spiritual things, an amount sufficient to
enable them to live decently and comfort?
ably. ? Hence it is, that most of our Min?
isters are unable to devote their entire
time to preaching, but are compelled to
teach school or follow some other secular
calling to support themselves and families.
We should like to see a statement of
the contributions of the members of the
various Churches, as compared with their
means, to the support of the Ministry, to
the cause of Missions. Theological Semi?
naries, to the education of young men for
the .Ministry, to the Sunday Sc'iooJ Union,
the Bible Union, the Tract Societv, ami i
for the publication and dissemination of
religious books. We fear that each would
have cause to feel ashamed; nay, we have
cause to fear that the mere mention of
this list of objects of Christian benevo?
lence would startle hundreds. " The larg?
est dollar current is the Church dollar.?
It has an "effect upon the optic nerve that
has never yet been satisfactorily explain?
ed." says one. D?the is mistaken; the
great Chalmers, in his speeeh. agajnstc/>v
I'tpusns?*- has solved the ipysfcry: "The
disease is as near universal as it is viru?
lent. Wealth is the goddess whom ail the
world worshiped). There is many a city
in our empire, of which, with an eye of
apostolical discernment, it may bo seen
that it is wholly given over to idolatry.''
Another pious Christian thus paints the
wants of the Church : ;- 0 for a race of
merchants, ship master-, mechanics, of
artists, of farmers; lawyers, employers
and employees who will devote themselves
to God a?; much as if they were ministers !
thus raising the common employments of
life to the sublime dignity of preaching
the gospel. Devoted hands are wanted at
this day as well as tongues. Devoted for?
tunes, devoted energetic business men, are
the pressing need of the Church of Christ.
A Church may possess a devoted Minis?
try, but if she has not a devoted member?
ship, she will go forth lamely upon all her
enterprises of mercy. The Ministers of
our Church need the backing of an ener?
getic, consecrated, zealous membership.
Ready to go forth to the ends of the
earth. Will you send them? Ready to
work to the ond of life. Will you support
them ? Will you let them die in the har?
ness of battle? Will you cease not to
care for the mother and the babes, who
share their toil and poverty ?"
Solemn interrogatories, which eaqh
Christian must answer to God for himself!
Do they not feel the weight of obligation
that is upon them to do so ? Have they
not considered the matter? If not, let
them read and ponder the following ex?
tracts from the letter of a wealthy, liberal
Galvanic remedies have been the set?
tled treatment for the chronic financial
ailments of our Church. And the labors
of a self-sacrificing ministry have proved
adequate thus far to periodically electrify
the membership into the discharge of a
part of their duty. This, at best, securis
but an occasional, uncertain and unrelia?
ble action. The difference between it
and vital motion of mercy is very great.
Like the stupor which precedes death
from Artie cold, the deadly slumbers of a
soul chilled by covetousness is croeping
over onr Church, and the most exciting I
and incessant efforts barely suffice to ar?
rest the fatal torpor. Methodism is like a
person whose entire right side is paral?
yzed. The cause of Missions suffers par?
alysis. Th2 cause of Education moves
only by th j large sacrifices of the few;
while the labor of securing a sum suffi?
cient to bu .ld a church has come to be so
great, that the most zealous become worn
out and disheartened by a few successful
The support of the Ministry is meagre,
and the annual deficiencies so great, that
it is questionable if they, as a class, do
not mainly support the gospel. The fam?
ilies of deceased Ministers are so poorly
cared for, that the conviction must often
be forced upon them that the Methodists
are incapable of common gratitude.
In raising the current expenses of a
Church, the membership have again and
again to be approached, urged and coaxed
into the most ordinary contribution to?
ward the support of the gospel. Where
Ministers have worn out their strength
with thirty or forty years' labor, they are
left to shift as best they may. and are
presently forgotten. No shadow of moral
right to a support is allowed the Minister
of the gospel by his brethren, nor is the
amount paid him regarded, either by faith
or right, as a claim that attaches, in any
sense, to the yearly income of any man
who professes himself to be a member of
the household of faith. All that is given
that way. is given?as a charity outright.
This state of things, to say the least, of it,
absolutely ignores any obligation to pay
any part of our substance to the Lord.?
And the Methodist Church is fast coming
to the attitude of a Church which ack?
nowledges no duty to return, annually,
anything for the blessing of substance
and yearly increase. God charged back?
sliding; Israel with robbery. 13ut our
Church takes higher ground, and denies
all right upon the part gf the Lord to any
portion of its income.
St. Paul has placed the claim of a Gos?
pel Ministry upon the same footing with
that of the Ministry of the Temple. They
who waited at the altar had a provision
made for then., in the law, and yet for
support were left dependent upon the vol?
untary obedience of the people. Tithes
were not legally enforced. Gospel Min?
isters being the Ministers of Christ, are
not of Levj, yet the Apostle places their
support upon the same basis : " JDo ye
not enow that they which minister about
holy things live of the things of the tem?
ple ? Even 60 hath the Lord ordained
tha*: they which preach the gospel should
live of the gospel." 1 Co., ix?13, 14.?
As. on the one hand, a Minister of the
gospel has no right to " entangle himself
with the cares ?f this file, that he may
please Jlim who hath chosen him to be Ji
soldier;" ho. on the other, he has a right
in gospel equity to a support out of the
tribute which the people are enjoined to
pay into the treasury of the Lord.
. But the support of* Ministers is but one
item. When a Church has done that, it
has at least paid the mint and cummin?
the present allowance for their support
could scarcely be set down as the ': weight
I ier matters " of mercy. The Christian
Church holds a vast amount of life, and
power, and blessing in her hands, in the
snape of the goods of her Lord: values
upon the expenditure of which are sus?
pended, the angelic: announcement of the
gospel to many plains of earth where
shepherds are sleeping shrouded in dark?
ness, the reclaiming of wastes that have
never bloQmed as yet, and the introduc?
tion of many inquiring strangers to Him
I who bought them with his own. blood.?
What has stayed her ? Why docs she not
sow gladness over the earth ? Upon what
passions is she expending the sums which
she keeps back from her Lord ? Where
is the money which has been placed by
Him, along with the word, in her hands,
with the commandments, ::Go preach the
' gospel to every creature!" She must pour
forth both substance and soul for the
World. Eternity will hold her to it.?
Seventy barrels of blood pass through the
heart of a man in twenty-four hours, so
must life be thrown out in volume, by the
Church, to every extreme part of the hu?
man nice. If there be any basis of duty,
if any motive of love, if any strong pur?
pose of zeal, let them bo announced from
the pulpit, in the class-room, and at the
Conference, until the generosity " which
never faileth" is acknowledged as an es?
sential quality of Methodism. * *
Let us come back to the least, the very
least that God claims: One seventh of our
tune and one tenth of our income.
The learned Grotius, one of the ablest
of commentators, in his treatise on the
rights of War and Peace, chap. I, book I,
speaks of a Christian man's duty: " So
likewise the old law of the Sabbath and
1 that of tithes are a demonstation that
Christians are obliged to set apart no less \
than the seventh part of their time for
worship of God, no less than the tenth part
of their fruits or profits for the mainten?
ance of those who are employed in holy
affairs, or for other sacred and pious
(Lord Chief Justice Hale, Eev. Dr.
Hammond. Baxter, and Doddridge, each
gave one tenth.)
Mr. Wesley says, in a sermon of burn?
ing words, on the danger of increasing
riches: "But many have found out a way
never to be rich, though their substance
increase ever so much. It is this: as fast
as ever money comes in they lay it out,
either in lands or enlarging their business.
By tins means each of these keeping him?
self bare of money, can still say, ' I am
not rich;' yea, though he has ten. twenty,
a hundred times more substance than he
had some years ago. It is possible for a
man to cheat himself by this ingenious
device. And he may cheat other men;
for, : as long as thou doest good unto thy?
self, men will speak well of thee.' But,
alas! he cannot deceive the devil. Ah,
no! the curse of God. is upon thee al?
ready, and all that thou hast. And to?
morrow when the devil seizes thy soul,
will he not say. ' what do all thy riches
profit thee.' Will they purchase a pillow
for thy head in the lake of fire burning
with brimstone? or will they procure thee
a cup of 1 water to cool thy tongue, while
thou art tormented in that placo?' 0,
follow the wise direction here given, that
God may not say unto thee, ; Thou fool.'"
This shift, therefore, will not avail.?
It will not be any. protection, cither
against the wrath of God, or the malice
and power of the devil. Unless thou
givest A Full Tenth of the substance of
thy fixed and occasional income, thou
dost undoubtedly ?et thy heart upon thy
gold, and it will ;: eat thy flesh as fire!"
Towards the last of his Ministiy, Mr,
Wesley gave no uncertain sound against
the love of money. Not only his preach?
ing but his example was eminently fitted
to show his followers their duty. He
gave away all?absolutely all. He re?
served not over fifty pounds a year for
his expenses, and ': died not having ten
pounds left." He transcended the tithe
quantity by as much as the whole is great?
er than a tenth. Who, of all his follow?
ers imitate his example ? How small is
the sum of them!
Has not the time come for acting if we
ever hope for a reform ? Let our Church
recognize the principle that it is the duty
of every member to pay, annually one
tenth of his income, as the least required
by the gospel. How can our people be
induced to make such a sacrifice ? Breth?
ren, what are we doing ? Let us awake!
Let us employ our whole soul, body and
substance according to the will of our
Lord ! Let us render unto God the things
that are God's : eyen all that we arc and
have. Unless we see: God's claim in evcry
piccc of gold, or land, or goods, we soon
lose sight of God in the engrossing pur
i suit of wealth. * * * *
It will be felt that Hi6 is the share that
insures the blessing, and nine parts with
j a blessing are rather to be chosum than
ten without. The sight of His share will
keep His law in mind amid tho competi?
tion and temptation of trade : His justice
will seem to sit upon.it, and tQ assert the
worth of virtuous integrity %
Will members of the Church read!
ponder! learn their duty, and do it! May
God help them to do so!
A Methodist Laymax.
Knowledge.?" One fountain there is,"
says Miss Fredreka Bremer, " whose deep
vein has only just begun to throw up its
silver drops among mankind?a fountain
which will allay the thirst of millions, and
will give to those who drink from it peace
and joy. It is knowledge; the fountain
of intellectual cultivation, which gives
health to mankind, makes clear his vision,
brings joy to his life, and breathes over
his soul's destiny a deep repose. Go and
drink therefrom, thou whom fortune has
not favored, and thou will soon feel thy?
self rich! Thou mayest go forth into the
world and find thyself everywhere at
home; thou canst cultivate thyself in
thine own little chamber; thy friends are
ever around thee, and carry on wise con?
versation with thee, nature, antiquity,
heaven are acceptable to thee/'
Tokens of Affection.?There is some?
thing in those trifles that friends bestow
upon each other, which is an unfailing in?
dication of the place the giver holds in
the att'ections. I would believe that one
who preserved a lock of hair, a simple
flower, or any other trifle of my bestow?
ing loved me, though no show was made
of it; -while all the protestations in the
world would not win my confidence in
the sincerity of one who set no value on
such little things. Trifles they may be,
i but it is by such that character and dis?
position arc oftenest rovealed.
Although a cheerful countenance does
not always betoken peace of mind and a
heart at ease, it is the harbinger of good
will, and speaks favorably for the charac?
ter of the wearer. On the other hand, a
sulky appearance is oftener the sign of
peevishness and displeasure, than of sor?
row or pain. As politeness is a man's
passport where he is not known, so good -
humor will ensure him a continuance of
favors which his good manners have elic?
ited, and will preserve affections that
beauty and elegance can do little more
than win. Nothing is more amiable than
! a constant desire to please, and an unwil?
lingness to offend the taste or hurt the
feelings of a friend. And when this
sweetness of disposition shines out in the
calm, placid countenance, it is the token,
at-least of a contented mind.
The troubles of life fall lighter when
they are calmly looked for and quietly
reccivod, than when he who must bear
I them bears also a continual frown. The
less we dwell upon our various burdens,
the lighter they will appear; and if we
must carry them?if misfortune must bo
our lot?why aggravate our distress by
reproaches and grievings? and why tell
tho world by gloohiy looks and bitter
words, of the troublo which sympathy
may not relievo ?
But good nature may be carried too far,
and become the unintentional cause of
prevarication and deceit; and men are
sometimes found, who, rather than offend
a friend, will stoop to flattery or down?
right untruth. There are those who use
it to so great an extent that it blinds
their reason, and, like Honeywood in the
play, they satisfy and encourage the ap?
parently charitable demands of those who
have penetration enough to ascertain'the
weak points of their " good natured
friend," and brass enough to invent and
Cany out their schemes of attack.
Good humor, when not weakened by a
universal and indiscriminate charity, is
the most exquisite beauty of a fine face,
and a redeeming grace in a homely one.
It is like the green in the landscape, har?
monizing with every color, mellowing the
glories of the bright, and softening the__
hue of tho dark,
Noele Sentiments.?This is an agree?
able world, after all. If we would only
bring ourselves to look at the objects that
Surround us in their true light, we should
sec beauty where before we beheld de?
formity, and listen to harmony where be?
fore wc could hear nothing but discord.
To bo stifte, there is a great deal of anx?
iety and vexation to meet; we cannot ex?
pect to sail on a calm summer coast for?
ever ; yet if we keep a calm and steady
hand, we can so trim our sails and man?
age our helm as to avoid the quicksands
and weather the storms that threaten
shipwreck. Wo are members of one
great family, we are travelling the same
road, and shall arrive at the same goal.
We breathe the same air, .are subject to
the same bounty, and we shall lie down
in the bosom of our common mother. It
is not becoming, then, that brothershould
hate brother; it is not right that neigh?
bor should injure neighbor. We pity the
cian who can harbor enmity against his
fellow; ho loses half the enjoyment of
life?he embitters his own existence. Let
us tear from our eyes the colored medium"
that invests "every obje'Ct with the green
hue of jealousy and suspicion. Turn a
deaf ear to the talc of scandal, breathe
the spirit of charity from our hearts; let
the rich gush of human kindness swell up
a. fountain, so that the "golden age" will
become no fiction, and blessings bloom in
more than "Hesperian beauty."
Beautiful Thought.?There is but a
breath of air and a beat of the heart, be?
twixt this world and the next. And in
the brief interval of painful and awful
suspense, while we feel that death is
present with uSj that we are powerless
and he all powerful, and the lastfaint pul?
sation here is but the prelude of endless
life hereafter; we feel,' in the midst of
the stunning calamity about to befall us,
that the earth has no compensating good
to mitigate the severity of our loss. But
there is no grief without some beneficent
provision to soften its intenseness. When
the good and the lovely die, tho memory
of their good deeds,- like the moonbeams
on the stormy sea, lights up our darkened
hearts, and lends to the surrounding^
gloom, a beauty so sad, so sweet, that we
would not, if we could, dispel the dark?
ness that environs it."
A, Dutchman on being called upon to
help to pay for a lightning rod for the vil?
lage church, towards the building of which
he had subscribed liberally, exclaimed;
" I have helped to build a house for de
Lort, and if he choose to donder on it and '
i knock it down,, he musht do it a$ tyc ovg
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