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Cur Country, her Commwe, antl Lfr Free Iiistilulions.
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Advertisements inserted at SI per square for
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those who advertise bv the year.
All communications, to ensure attention, must
ut post paid.
Of every description, executed in tha neatest man
manner, at the usual prices.
OTTAWA is the seat of nixtice of La Salle
county ; is situated at the junction of the Fox river
with the Illinois, "'JO miles, by water, irom ftamt
Louis, and mid-way between Chicago ami l'cona
The population of Ottawa is nhont one thousand,
AgruU for the Free Trader.
M. MOTT, p La 8ae counfy Jllt
D. S. Ehkuhol. mail contractor.
C. (J. Miiliii, Dayton.
A. O. Smith, Smith's Mills.
Jktox Ciruiir, Troy Grove.
L. W. Dimmock, Vcrinilionville.
Hsmit PintLirs, Miinxon, (Indian creek.)
C. W. lUixotns, P. M. Pontine.
Rkfs Mono, Morgan's Mill.
.Imes G. Ct.ipr, Uristol, Kano Co. 111.
Wiiti Rxkt, near Van Burrn, III.
William K. Brows, Snnbury, Illinois.
Hat IIick'., Hicks' mill, De Kalh Co. Ill,
W. W. Wi jx, Osweuo, Kane Co. III.
AxTiioxx Pitzeii, Boonrshoro', Ogle Co. Ill
"The Siren I of Ihr Poor nud the Blood
I he Hrnrr."
BT PAtlK. 11 F.X J A M I V,
"CM i, in its iivt anylsi.i, the mveat iif the
poor and the blixxl of the brave. Jos. IS apolkok.
Waste treasure like water, ye noble and groat !
rtpend the wraith of the world to increase your
Tile up your temples of marble, and raise.
Columns end domes that the people may gaze
And wonder at beauty, so gorgeously shown
By subjects more rich than the king on his throne.
Lavish and squander for why should ye save
" The sweat of the poor and the blood of the brave?"
Pour wine into goblets, a!' crusted with gems1
Wear pearls on your collars & pearls on your hems;
Let diamonds in splendid profusion outvie
The myriad stars of a tropical sky !
Though from "the night of the fathomless mine"
These may be dug at your banquot to shiiie,
Little care ye for the chains of the slave
"The sweat of the poor and the bio id of the brave."
Behold at your gates stand the feeble and old,
Let them bum in sunshine and freeze in the cold
Let them starve: though a morsel, a drop will impart
New vigor and wai mth to the limb and the heart :
You lasle not their anguish, you feel not their pain,
. Your heads are not bare to the w ind and the ruin
Must wretches like these of poor chanty crave
"The sweat of the poor and the blood of the brave!"
An army goes out in the morn's early light,
Teh thousand gay soldiuri equipped for the fight :
An amy comes home at the closing of day ;
Oh, where are their banners, their goodly array 1
Ye widows and orphans, bewail not so loud
Your groans may embitter the feast oftho proud:
To win for their store -did the wild battle rave
"The sweat of the poor and the Mood of the brave."
, Gold! Gold! ill all ges the curse of mankind,
Thy fetters are forged for the soul and tiie mind :
The limbs may be free as the wings of a bird
And the mind be the slave of a look and a word.
To gain thee men barter ctc.nety's crown,
Yield honor, affection and lasting renown,
And mingle like foam with life's swift-rushing wave
The sweat of the poorand the blood of the brave."
, From the Philadelphia Unsket. v
The Battle of Trenton.
IIIOX T1XK MAXl-SCHIPT OIT AX TK W1TSESS.
"Whose bullet on tho night air sung V
. Bride of Afiydos.
I had scarcely put my foot in the stir
rup before an Aid-dc-Camp from the
Commander-in-Chief galloped up to me
with a summoi. to the side of Washing
ton. I bowed in reply, and dashed up
the road. The Gcneral-in-chief was al
ready on horseback, surrounded by his
staff, and on the point of setting out.
He was calm and collected, as if in his
cabinet. I checked my steed on the in
stant, and lifting my hat, waited for his
. "You are a native of this country T"
'Yes your Excellency."
You know the roads from McConkey
ferry to Trenton by the river and Pen
nington the bye-roads and all."
As well as I know my alphabet,"
and I patted the neck of my impatient
Then I may have an occasion for
you you will remain with the staff ah!
that is a spirited animal you ride, Lieu
tenant Archer," he added smiling, as the
jfiery beast made a de mi-volt, that set the
group in commotion. , .
"Your Excellency"- '
"Never mind," said Washington, smi
ling again, as another impatient spring of
1 my charger: cut short the sentence. "I
see the heads of the columns are in mo
tion you will remember," and waving
his hand; he gave the. rein to his steed,
while I fell back bewildered into the
The ferry was close at hand, but the
intense cold made the march any thing
but pleasant. We nil, however, hoped
on the morrow to redeem our country by
KtrikinT a siirnal blow, and every heart
o . , .
beat high with the anticipation of victory
Column after column of our little army
defiled at the ferry, and the night had
scarcely set in before the embarkation
At last we crossed the Delaware. The
whole night had been consumed in the
transportation of the men and artillery
and the morning was within an hour or
two of dawning before the detachment
had been embarked. As I wheeled my
horse on the little bank above the land
inr place. I paused an instant to look
back through the obscurity of the scene.
The night was dark, wild, and thrcarcn-
tng the clouds betokened an approach
ing tempest and I could with difficulty
penetrate with my eye, the fast increas
ing gloom. As I put my hand across my
brows to pierce into darknecs, a gust of
wind, sweeping down the river, whirled
the snow into my face and momentarily
blinded my sight. At hst I discerned
the opposite shore amid the obscurity.
The landscape was wild and gloomy.
A few desolate looking houses only were
in sight, and they scarcely perceptible in
the shadowy twilight. 1 he bare trees
lifted their hoarv arms on high, groan
ing and screaking in the gale. The river
was covered with drifting ice, that now
jammed with a crash together, and then
floated slowly apart, leaving scarcely
space lor the boats to pass. i lie Han
gers of the navigation can better be imag
ined than described for the utmost ex
crtions could often just prevent the frail
structures from being crushed. Occa
sionally a stray fife would be heard shoot
ing shrilly over the waters, mingling lee-
bly with the fiercer piping of the winds
and anon the deep roll of the drum
would boom across the night, the neigh
ing of a horse would float from the op
posite shore, or the crash of the jamming
ice would be heard like far off thunder.
flic cautioners beneath me were draging
a piece of artillery up the ascent, and the
men were rapidly forming on the shore
below as they landed. It was a stirring
scene. At tins instant me uanu oi tne
regiment struck up an enlivening
air, and plunging my rowels into my
steed, I whirled around, into the road,
and went ofl" on a gallop to overtake the
It was now four o'clock, and so much
time had been consumed tliat it became
impossible to reach our destination before
daybreak, and consequently all certainly
of a surprise was over. A hasty council
was therefore called on horseback to de
termine whether to retreat or not. A few
minutes decided it. All were unanimous
to proceed at every peril.
'Gentlemen,' said V r.slungton, after
they had severally spoken, "then we
ill agree the attack shall take place
General," he continued, turning to Sul-
ivan, "your brigade shall march by the
river road, while I will take that by Pen
nington ; let us arrive as near eight
o'clock as possible. But do not pause
when you reach their outposts drive
them in before their ranks can form, and
pursue them to the centre of the town.
shall be there to take them in the flank
tho rest we must leave to the God of
battles. And now, gentlemen, to our
posts. In five minutes wc were in
The eagerness cf our troops to come
up with the enemy was never more con
spicuous than on the morning of that
eventful day. V e had scarcely lost sight
of Sullivan's detachment across the in
tervening fields, before the long threat
ened storm burst over us. The night
was intensely cold ; the sleet and hail
rattled incessantly upon the men's knap
sacks ; the wind shrieked, howled, and
roared among the old pine trees with ter
rific violence. At times the snow fell
perpendicular downwards then it beat
horizontally into our faces with furious
impetuosity ; and again it was whirled
wildly on high, eddying around and
around, and sweeping away on the whist
ling tempest far into the gloom. The
tramp of the men the low orders of the
officers tho occasional rattle of a mus
ket were almost lost in the shrill voice of
the 'gale, or tho deep, sullen roar of the
tortured forest. Even these sounds at
length ceased, and we continued the
march in profound silence, the storm in
creasing as we drew nearer to the out
posts of the enemy. The redoubled vio
lence of the gale, though it added to the
sufferings of our brave continentals, was
even hailed with joy as it decreased the
chances of our discovery, and made us
once more hope high for a successful
surprise. Nor were these sufferings
light. Through the dreadful night noth
ing but the lofty patriotism of a freeman
could have sustained them. Half cloth
OTTAWA, ILLINOIS, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1810.
ed many without shoes, whole compan
ies destitute of blankets, they yet pressed
bravely on against the storm, though
drenched to the ckin, shivering at every
blast, and too often marking their foot
steps with blood. Old as I am now, the
recollection is still vivid in my mind.
God forbid that such sufferings should
ever have to be endured again !
The dawn at last came, hut the storm
still raged. The trees were borne down
with sleet, and the slush was ankle deep
in the roads. The fields we passed
were covered with wet and spongy snow
and the half buried houses looked bleak
and desolate in the uncertain morning
light. It has been my lot to witness few
such forbidding scenes. At this instant
a shot was heard in front and a messen
ger dashed furiously up to announce that
the outposts of the British were being
"Forward forward," cried Washing'
ton himself, galloping up to the head of
the column, "push on, my brave fel
The men started like hunters at the
cry of the pack as their General's voice
was seconded by a hasty fire from the
riflemen in the van, and forgetting every
thing but the foe, marched rapidly, with
silent eagerness, toward the sound of the
conflict. A s they emerged from the wood
the scene burst upon them.
The town lay but a short distance a
licad, just discernible through the twilight,
and seemingly buried in repose. The
streets were wholly deserted, and as yet
the alarm had not reached the main body
of the enemy. A single horseman was
seen llccinga moment through the mist-
he was soon lost behind a clump of trees
and then re-appeared, dashing wildly
down the main street of the village. I
had no doubt he was a messenger from
the outposts for a rc-inforcement : and if
suffered to rally once wc knew all hope
was gone. To the forces he had left wc
now therefore turned our attention.
The first charge of our gallant conti
nentals had driven the outposts in like tho
shock of an avalanche. Just aroused from
l i t i i
siecp, ana taken completely uy surprise,
they did not at first pretend to make a
stand, but retreated rapidly ,:nd in disor
der, before our vanguard. A few mo
ments, however, had sufficed to recall
their reeling faculties, and perceiving the
insignificant force opposed to them, they
lalied, hesitated, rallied, poured in a hea
vy fire, and even advanced cheering to the
onset. Hut at this moment our main ho
ly emerged from the wood, and when mv
eye first fell upon the Hessian grenadiers,
they were beginning again to stagger.
"On on push on, continentals on the
" shouted the officer in command.
The men with admirable discipline still
forbore their shouts, and steadily pressed
on against the now flying outposts. In
another instant, the Hessians were in full
retreat upon the town.
By heavens !" ejaculated an aid-dc
camp at my side, as a rolling fire of inus-
etry was all nt once heard at the dis
tance of half a mile across the village.
there goes Sullivan's brigade the day's
Charge the artillery with a detach
ment from the eastern regiment," shouted
the General as the battery of the enemy
was seen a little to our right.
The men levelled their bayonets, march
ed steadily up to the very mouth of the
cannon, and before the artillerists could
bring their pieces to bear, carried them
with a cheer. Just then the surprised
enemy was seen endeavoring to form in
the main street ahead, and the rapidly in
creasing fire on the side of Sullivan, told
that the day m that quarter was fiercely
maintained. A few minutes of indeci
sion would ruin all.
"Press on press on there," shouted
our commander-in-chief, golloping to the
front, and waving his sword aloft,
"charge them before they can form, and
The effect was electric. Gallant as had
been their conduct before, our brave troops
now seemed to be carried away with per
fect enthusiasm. The men burst into a
.ihccr at the sight of their commander's
daring, and, dashing rapidly into the town,
carried every thing before them like a hur
ricane. The half formed Hessians open
ed a desultory fire, fell in before our im
petuous attack, wavered, broke, and in two
minutes were flying pell-mell through the
town while our troops, with admirable
discipline, still maintaining their ranks,
pressed steadily up the street, driving the
foe before them. They had scarcely gone
a hundred yards, before tho banners of
Sullivan s brigade were seen floating
through the mist ahead a cheer burst
from our men it was answered back
from our approaching comrades, and per
ceiving themselves hemmed in on all sides
and that further retreat was impossible,
the whole regiment we had routed laid
down their arms. The instant victory
was ours, and the foe had surrendered,
every unmanly exultation disappeared
from the countenances of our brave troops.
The fortune of war had turned against
their foes ; it was not the part of the brave
man to add insult to misfortune.
We were on the point of dismounting
when an aid-de-camp wheeled around the
comer of the street ahead, and checking
his foaming charger at the side oC Wash
ington, exclaimed breathlessly,
"A detachment has escaped they arc
in full retreat on the Princeton road."
Quick as thought the connnandcr-in
chief flung himself into the saddle ao-aiii.
.... . O
and looking around the troop of officers,
singled me out.
"liieutenant Archer you know the
roads. Colonel will march his rc
giment around, and prevent the enemy's
retreat, t ou wilt take them by the short
I bowed in acknowledgment to the sad
dle bow, and perceiving the colonel was
some distance ahcud, went like au anow
down the street to join him. It was but
the work of an instant to wheel the men
into a neighboring avenue, and before five
minutes the muskets of the retreating foe
could oo seen through tho intorvcninr
trees. I had chosen a cross path, which
making, as it were, the longest sidii of a
triangle, entered the Princeton road a short
distance above the town, and would ena
ble us to cut off completely the enemy's
retreat. I he struggle to attain the desired
point where two routs intersected was
short but fierce.
We had already advanced halfway be
fore wc were discovered, and though the
enemy pressed with the cagfrnccs of des
pair, our gallant fellows were fired on
their part with the enthusiasm of conscious
victory. As we drew rapidly nearer to
the intersection, wc were cheered to find
ourselves ahead a bold, quick push en
abled us to reach it some seconds before
tho foe and, rapidly facing about as we
wheeled into the other road, we summon
ed the discomfited enemy by surrender.
In half an hour I reported myself at head
quarters as the aid-dc-camp of Col. ,
to announce our success.
The exultation of our countrymen on
learning the victory of Trenton, no pen
can picture. One universal shout of vic
tory rolled from Massachusetts to Georgia
and we were hailed every whereas the
saviours of our country. The drooping
spirits of die colonists were re-animated
by the news ; and the enemy, paralyzed
by tho blow, retreated in disorder toward
Princeton and New Brunswick. Years
have passed away since then ; but I ne
ver shall forget the Battpe of Trkntox.
A sprightly, rosy-cheeked, flaxen-haired
littlu girl, used to sit in the pleasant
evenings of June, on the marble steps op
posite to my lodgings, when I lived in
Philadelphia, and sing over a hundred
little sonnets, and tell over as many tales,
in a sweet voice, and with an air of de
lightful simplicity, that charmed mo many
a time. Mic was then nn orphan child,
and commonly reported to be rich. Often
and often I sat, after a dav of toil and
vexation, and listened to her innocent
voice, breathing forth the notes of pcaco
and happiness, which flowed cheerful
from a light heart, and felt a portion of
that tranquility steal over my heart.
Such was Eliza Huntley, when I first
Several years had elapsed, during which
time I was absent from the city. When
walking along one of the most fashiona
ble squares, I saw an elegant female fig
ure step into a carriage, followed ' by a
gentleman and two pretty children. " I
did not immediately recognise her face,
but my friend, who was by my side, pul
led my elbow, "Do you not remember
little Eliza, who used to sing for us,
when we lived together in Walnut street?'
I did not remember it was herself.
She used to be fund, he said, of treat
ing her little circle of friends with ro
mance and at last she acted out a neat
romance herself. She came out into the
gay circle of life, under the auspices of
her guardian. It was said by some, she
was rich very rich but the amount of
wealth did not appear to be a matter of
publicity ; however the current, and as
wc generally believe, well founded re
port, was sufficient to draw around her
many admirers and among the number
of a few serious courtiers.
She did not wait long before a young
gentleman on whom she had looked with
a somewhat partial eye, because he was
the gayest and handsomest of her lovers,
emboldened by her partiality made her
an offer. Probf.bly she blushed, and her
heart fluttered a little; but they were
sitting in a moonlight parlor, and as her
embarrassment was more than half con
cealed, she soon recovered, and as a wag
gish humor happened to have the ascend
ant, she put on a serious face, told him
she was honored hv his
. I uui
mat mere was one matter which should
be understood, before giving him a reply,
she bound him to his promise.
"Perhaps you may think me wealthy ;
I would not for the. world have you labor
under a mistake on that point. I am
worth eighteen hundred dollars."
Sho was proceeding, but the gentleman
started as if electrified. "Eighteen hund
red dollars !" he repeated, in a manner
that betrayed the utmost surprise ; "yes
ma'am," said he. awkwardlv. "I did nn.
derstand that you were worth a good deal
. i ,
more ; out .
"No, sir," she replied, "no excuse
nor apologies ; think about what I have
said ; you are cmbarrasced now ; answer
me another time," and rising, fhe bade
him good night.
She just escaped a trap ; he went next
day to her guardian, to inquire more par
ticularly into her affairs, and receiving
the same answer, he dropped his suit at
The next serious proposal followed
soon after, and this too, came from one
who succeeded to a large portion of her
esteem, but applying the same crucible
to the lore he oifercd, she found a like
result. He, too, left her and she rejoic
ed in another fortunate escape.
She sometime after became acquainted
with a young gentleman of slender for
tune, in whose approaches she thought
she discovered more of the timid ditliencc
of love than she had witnessed Imforp.
She did not check his hopes and in
process of lime, he, too, made her an
olfer. lint when she spoke of her for
tune, he begged her to bs silent : "It is
to virtue, worth and beauty," said he,
"that I pay my court not to fortune.
In you 1 shall obtain what is worth more
She was most agreeably disappointed.
They were married, and the union was
solmnizcd ; she made him master of her
"I am, indeed, worth eighteen hundred
dollars," said she to him. "but I naver
said how much more ; and I hope never
to enjoy more pleasure than I feel at this
moment, when I tell von mv fortune is
one hundred and eighty thousand."
It is actually so but still her husband
often tells her that in her he possesses a
far nobler fortune,
What is the blooming tincture of the kkjil
To peace of mind, to harmony within 1
What the bright sparkling of the finest eyo
To the Koft soothing of a calm reply ?
Can comeliness of form, or shape, or air,
With comeliness of words or deeds compure 1
Xo those at first tho unwary heart may gain,
Gut these, these only, can the heart retain!
ITlf Country Coutlim.
.1 ' Hast thou a cousin 1
Eird. 'Cousin,' sny'st thoul
Aif. In truth, a gentle being of th v mother's kn,
Whose bright eyes look sweetly on thine 0'.n,
boc lips in dulcet notes entice thine car.
And cull thee 'cousin !'
L'lW. Nooth to sav, I have.
How dear to every one is the nam cof
a cousin. Uur earliest visions ol love,
crowding in upon the memories of after
days, remind us of little blue eyed crea
tures, the companions of our sports and
pastimes, who rejoiced when we rejoiced,
and wept with us whenever sympathy de
manded a tear. 1 line, which obliterates
all else that is past, and buries all other
hopes and aspirations, touches with a gen
tle hand the remembrance of our early
loves, and beautifies the very wreck it has
made ; and th moss-grown tower, stand
ing in its hoary and venerable antiquity
in the midst of a pathless desert, is no
false illustration of the delightful memo
ries which open the dark vista of the past,
and point us to green sunny spots in the
waste of life, whose birds and streams
and waving fields throw around us the
same enchantment which hallowed our
earliest delights. Wc first learn to love
our cousins ; wc lay upon this shrine the
holiest offering of hearts, untouched by
care, unclouded by sorrow ; and wo ne
ver forget that affection, nor become in
different to the charms of our cousins,
until wc hecomo the victims of human
frailty, and arc won by brighter ryes and
sweeter voices than theirs. As the stream
will wander from its fountain in search of
brighter skies and more flowery banks
as the bird will forget its native haunts
and flit away to unknown climes far be
yond the horizon ; so the affections of the
heart, satiated with the enjoyment of long
cherished objects, and painting the dis
tance with hues of illusive splendor, too
often prove ingrate to the tics which bind
them at home, and seek abroad attachment
which can never bo so dear,' so lasting, or
se delightful.' Thus the boy, bred by the
fire-side, accustomed but to the society
of his cousins, soon becomes the youth
ambitious of display, tho beau of the
neighborhood, tho in am orate of some
country belle, and is at last entangled in
the silken net which a pair of black eyes,
rosy lips, and winning words have thrown
aroud his heart. How many apt illustra
tions are there in this world of ours; of
that fovorite nursing-fable of the spidef
and tha flv. . . , M;
Too Thickly Settled
It is related in the life Col. Ds.N-j.ifc
Boon, the Kentucky pionerr, thai he
broke up Ins plantation and removed fur
ther west, as soon as a neighbor came
within forty miles of htm. This was
carrying the principle to an absurd ex
treme but there is much philosophy in
its application to the affairs of mankind. '
Labor is the onlv wealth, and, conse
quently, the only source of happiness
lor wealth is nothing but the means of
gratifying our desires. Of labor, the two
most useful and universal kinds are agri
culture and mechanics. Agriculture pro
vides for the necessities of the physical
frame, and furnishes the means of indulg
ing in the artificial appetites crealed by
the faculty of alimentiveness, which, like
all others in the human species, seek
constantly to improve upon itself. Me
chanics is the hand maiden of agriculture
and can exist in a healthy state only in
those communities where labor is proper
ly apportioned among men, and adapted
to the piomotion of tho general good.
Mow absurd, then, for men to crowd to
gether by thousands into cities, and sweat
and swelter through a short and feverish
existence toiling through long, unwont
ed hours while the surplus fruits of theif
labor we mean all that is over and above
the average amount necessary to procure
the comforts of life, provided all worked
go to swell the coffers of the already
rich, or are squandered by the brainless
It is only in cities or thickly setUed
countries, that the laboring classes ever
feel any thing like real misery or want
The laboror of Missouri or Illinois it in
no danger of starving not he ! ' He can
scarcely comprehend (he distress and mi
sery of the poor wretchpd slaves of Eng
land and the manufacturing districts of
France and the United States. A reason
ble amount of work secures a healthy
competence for his family and himself.
The fruitful bosom of Mother Earth,
unless drained too frequently, contains
ample sustenance for sill her children
She is a kind parent, though her children
love her not, -
There should be but few cities In the
world and these devoted to the purpose
of commerce, and of concentrating intel
lect. They should be emporiums of the
fine arts the diawing-roonis where men
of real genius may meet and converse
together. We .say real genius for
from such the world demands no
physical labor. It is content to be
come the purchaser and rewarder of the
efforts of their higher genius. In such a
state of things, there shall be no place for
quackery, because, the ordinary concerns
of life money getting, speculating, and
like, would find no place men's minds
being occupied quietly upon their farms
or in their shops, while the fevered child
ren of Genius would be left to work out
their beautiful dreams and conceptions un
fettered by the band of want and unwith
ered by the touch of despair which, year
after year, lay myriads of the loftieet and
the purest in an unknown grave. Pn
nant. Pretty Womkn. "Of oil other views
a man may, in time, grow tired, but in the
countenance of woman there is a variety
which sets weariness at defiance.". The
divine right of beauty, says Junius, is the
only divine right an Englishman can ac
knowledge, and a pretty woman the only
tyrant he is not authorized to resist.
Cuir.DrtEN. Miss Sedgwick beautiful
ly remarks, that "Children are like mile
stones set along the road, reminding us of
the distance we have gone on the journey
The ChrWtlun'a Home.
The earth never was designed for the
Christian's home. It is u field in which
he is sent to labor. Here lie spends tho
heat of the day, and he cannot find his
home, until tho evening comes and his
work is ended. If this earth had been
destined for tho Christian's home, it
would have been made a very different
place. Would it have been filled with
so many snares and miseries ? ; It would
have been rendered a peaceful, quiet,
holy habitation. But now God has pre
pared him a better, habitation, ..where
nothing shall ever enter to disturb his
rest, and where he shall feel himself for
ever at home. The Christian, only so
journ here like "a wayfaring hian for i
uight, but heaven is his home, where he
has an eternity to spend. ' Eternity 1 eur
nity '.! 0. tho boundless thought!