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diff --git a/old/69938-0.txt b/old/69938-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9fc1d0a..0000000 --- a/old/69938-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1384 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Told in the twilight, by F. E. -Weatherly - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Told in the twilight - -Author: F. E. Weatherly - -Illustrators: M. Ellen Edwards - John C. Staples - -Release Date: February 3, 2023 [eBook #69938] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT *** - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: Told in the Twilight] - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT] - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - TOLD - IN THE - TWILIGHT - - by F. E. Weatherly - - Illustrated by - - M. ELLEN EDWARDS - & - JOHN C. STAPLES - - NEW YORK - E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY - 39, WEST TWENTY THIRD STREET. - - - - -[Illustration: _TWILIGHT LAND._] - - The day is done, the day is done, - And all the troubles of the day! - The long last crimson of the sun - Is melting into silver gray. - The old world slowly fades from view, - Within another world we stand, - And all is strange and all is new, - For this, for this is Twilight-land. - - - - -[Illustration: _THE TWILIGHT HOUR._] - - Children, who read these little rhymes, - Out of the Twilight-land sent clear, - There’s many a one in these hurrying times, - Has not the time, like you, to hear. - - But, children, this is your hour indeed; - And this is its beauty, this its power, - That all you love and that all you need - Comes to your hearts in the twilight hour. - - This is the hour when dreams come true, - And life has never a tear or care, - When those you have lost come back to you, - And all your castles are strong and fair. - - Then, children, who read, and I who write,— - Shall we not pray with all our power, - That whatever we lose of the world’s delight, - We lose not the peace of the twilight hour? - - - - -[Illustration: _CONTENTS._] - - _TITLE PAGE_, 1. - - _THE OLD PICTURE BOOK_, 48. - - _BELL’S DREAM_, 10, 11, 14, 15. - - _BELL’S DREAM_, 10, 11, 14, 15. - - _LONDON RIVER_, 17. - - _THE ABBEY SWALLOWS_, 19. - - _THE MISGUIDED LAMB_, 21, 23. - - _THE MISGUIDED LAMB_, 21, 23. - - _THE POET AND THE PRINTER_, 32, 33. - - _THE POET AND THE PRINTER_, 32, 33. - - _MINNIE’S CALCULATIONS_, 27. - - _DREAMS_, 28. - - _SORROWS_, 31. - - _HARRY’S SOLILOQUY_, 35. - -[Illustration] - - _THE DEAD RABBIT_, 37. - - _THE UNAPPRECIATIVE KITTEN_, 39. - - _THE DONKEY AND THE CHILD (picture)_, 40. - - _SUMMER TIME (picture)_, 41. - - _THE CAT’S SOLILOQUY_, 42. - - _TOBY’S LESSON_, 44. - - _SELINA’S DESTINY_, 46. - - _THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID_, 49, 50, 51. - - _NO THANK YOU, TOM_, 53. - - _A BUNCH OF FLOWERS_, 55. - - _THE CHILDREN’S SONG_, 58. - - _CHRISTMAS (picture)_, 57. - - _THE CHILDREN’S SONG_, 59. - - _A BOUGH OF HOLLY_, 61. - - _THE END_, 63. - - - - -[Illustration: _BELL’S DREAM._] - - It was the little Isabel, - Upon the sand she lay, - The summer sun struck hotly down, - And she was tired of play, - And down she sank into the sea, - Though how, she could not say.— - - She stood within a dreadful court, - Beneath the rolling tide, - There sate a sturgeon as a judge, - Two lobsters at her side; - She had a sort of vague idea - That she was being tried. - - And then the jurymen came in, - And, as the clock struck ten, - Rose Sergeant Shark and hitched his gown, - And trifled with a pen, - “Ahem—may’t please your Lordship, - And gentle jurymen! - - “The counts against the prisoner - Before you, are that she - Has eaten salmon once at least, - And soles most constantly, - Likewise devoured one hundred shrimps - At Margate with her tea.” - -[Illustration] - - “Call witnesses!”—An oyster rose, - He spoke in plaintive tone, - “Last week her mother bought a fish,” - (He scarce could check a moan,)— - “He was a dear dear friend of mine, - His weight was half a stone!” - - “No oysters, ma’am?” the fishman said, - “No, not to-day!” said she; - “My child is fond of salmon, but - Oysters do not agree!” - The fishman wiped a salt salt tear, - And murmured “Certainly!” - - “Ahem—but,” interposed the judge, - “How do you know,” said he, - “That she did really eat the fish?” - “My Lud, it so must be, - Because the oysters, I submit, - With her did not agree!” - - “Besides, besides,” the oyster cried - Half in an injured way, - “The oysters in that fishman’s shop - My relatives were they: - They heard it all, they wrote to me, - The letter came to-day!” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - “’Tis only hearsay evidence,” - The judge remarked, and smiled, - “But it will do in such a case, - With such a murd’rous child.— - Call the next witness!” for he saw - The jury getting wild. - - And then uprose a little shrimp: - “I am the last,” said he, - “Of what was once, as you all know, - A happy familee! - Without a care we leapt and danced - All in the merry sea!” - - “Alack! the cruel fisherman, - He caught them all but me; - The pris’ner clapped her hands and yelled— - I heard her—‘Shrimps for tea!’ - And then went home and ate them all - As fast as fast could be.” - - The foreman of the jury rose, - (All hope for Bel has fled,) - “There is no further need, my Lord, - Of witnesses,” he said; - “The verdict of us one and all - Is _Guilty_ on each head!” - -[Illustration] - - “_Guilty_,” his Lordship said, and sighed, - “A verdict sad but true: - To pass the sentence of the court - Is all I have to do; - It is, that as you’ve fed on us, - Why, we must feed on you!” - - She tried to speak; she could not speak; - She tried to run, but no! - The lobsters seized and hurried her - Off to the cells below, - And each pulled out a carving knife, - And waved it to and fro. - - * * * * - - But hark! there comes a voice she knows, - And some one takes her hand; - She finds herself at home again - Upon the yellow sand; - But how she got there safe and sound, - She cannot understand. - - And many a morning afterwards, - Whene’er she sees the tide, - She still retains that vague idea - That she is being tried, - And seems to see the sturgeon judge - And the lobsters at her side. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _LONDON RIVER._] - - All day long in the scorching weather, - All day long in the winter gloom, - Brother and sister stand together, - She with her flowers and he with his broom. - - And the folks go on over London river, - Poor and wealthy, busy and wise, - Will nobody see those white lips quiver? - Will nobody stop for those pleading eyes? - - The old bridge echoes the ceaseless thunder - Of crowds that gather and stream along, - And the stranger child shrinks back in wonder, - She cannot sing in that hurrying throng. - - She thinks of her home across the ocean, - With its deep blue sky and its vineyards green; - But who will heed, in that wild commotion, - The pitiful sound of her tambourine? - - Flow! flow! O London river, - Carry thy ships from the mighty town, - Smiles and tears in thy heart for ever, - Smiles and tears as thou hurriest down! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE ABBEY SWALLOWS._] - - The year was late, the days were cold, - The swallows long had gone, - Two only by the Abbey door - Still doubting lingered on. - They hovered, wheeling round and round, - Beside the porch in fear, - And as they lighted on the ground - A little child drew near. - - Close to her feet the swallows came, - And twittered gay and glad, - She broke her little crust for them— - It was the last she had. - Then blithe and gay they flew away, - She to her corner crept; - There was no one now in the world to care - Whether she smiled or wept. - - With summer back the swallows came, - Flew to the Abbey door, - But no one stood to watch for them, - The child was there no more. - She had gone away on the angels’ wings, - No more in the world to roam, - For the love that she gave those helpless things, - She has found in her Heavenly Home. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE MISGUIDED LAMB._] - - There were two little girls who had - A fond devoted Mammy, - But spent their warm affections on - A most ungrateful lamb-y, - - For spite of all the care of Ruth, - And all the love of Mary, - This lamb was a misguided youth, - Most crooked and contràry. - - On Sunday, when they went to church, - And wished to be without him, - He used to wander up the aisle, - And stop and stare about him. - - And when the parson and the clerk - Looked stern at Ruth and Mary, - They wished they did not own a lamb - So crooked and contràry. - - He used to bleat most piteously - When they came up the mountain, - As if to say “I am so dry, - I’d like to drink the fountain!” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - But when they drew a pail for him, - (You really scarce might think it,) - He wagged his tail and winked his eye, - And simply wouldn’t drink it. - - It chanced one day they went to pay - Their morning salutation, - But though they called, he never came, - Much to their consternation. - - They sought him high, they sought him low, - But no! they could not find him, - They said “He will, he must come back, - And bring his tail behind him.” - - They sought him up the windy cliff, - And down the ferny hollow, - And still they said “He can’t be lost!” - And still their feet did follow. - - Alas! they found him dead at last— - Alas! for Ruth and Mary: - But then, you see, he always was - So crooked and contràry. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _MINNIE’S CALCULATIONS._] - - Said Minnie with pride, - As she counted her chicks, - “When they’re grown a bit bigger, - I’ll sell all the six. - And as each ought to fetch - At the least half a crown, - I can quite well afford me - A new Sunday gown.” - - Alas for our castles! - How soon they all slip! - The cat ate one chicken, - And one got the pip; - And while mourning their brother - And sister, the four - Were crushed by the carter-boy - Slamming the door. - - _Don’t reckon your chickens_ - _Before they are hatched_, - Is a proverb some fancy - Can never be matched. - But I think that this other - Deserves to be told:— - _Don’t count on their value_ - _Until they are sold._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _DREAMS._] - - Sometimes, beneath the brightest skies, - The children pause amid their play, - With parted lips and earnest eyes - In silence looking far away. - We may not know, we cannot see - The wonder-world whereon they gaze; - Heaven grant, whate’er their dreams may be, - They find them true in after days! - Dreaming sit the children, - Pausing in their play, - Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet, - Because, because so far away. - - And we too have our dreams, our own, - Amid the rush and toil of life, - Our dreams of days and things long flown, - That come like peace comes, after strife. - Old hands we feel, old eyes we see, - Within our ears old voices ring; - They are but dreams, maybe, maybe, - But oh! the blessing that they bring. - Dreaming like the children, - We dream from day to day, - Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet, - Because, because so far away. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _SORROWS._] - - There are sorrows, little children, - That you cannot understand, - As you watch our tears in wonder, - As you take us by the hand. - There are sorrows, little children, - You cannot bear them yet, - But you nestle close beside us, - And you help us to forget. - You comfort us, my darlings, - And yet you know not how; - You show us Heaven is near us, - Though our tears may blind us now. - - There are little ones in Heaven, - Gone a little while before, - And they stand, to watch us coming, - Beside the golden door. - There are little ones in Heaven, - They are calling you and me, - When our hearts have grown forgetful, - And our feet would wayward be. - We can hear them, if we listen, - We may meet them all one day, - When our tears shall fall no longer, - And the shadows flee away! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE POET AND THE PRINTER._] - - Two little girls—I met them once, - But quite forget their name, - You’ll find them on page twenty-four, - The printer is to blame, - The picture ought to face the words, - But there! it’s all the same. - - Two little girls, as I remarked, - They left their snug abode, - Because they thought their dinner must - Taste better on the road, - For forks and spoons and tablecloths, - They really incommode. - - The ditch is far, far pleasanter - Than any high-backed chair, - I’m sure you will agree with them - If you’ll observe them there; - And when they’d finished, off they trudged - All thro’ the summer air. - - At last they reached a bridge (the bridge - You’ll see on twenty-five), - And on the bridge those little girls - Are hanging all alive; - It’s marvellous how hanging - Will make some children thrive! - -[Illustration] - - They pondered which was best, to be - Upon the bridge or under, - And what they’d do suppose the bridge - Were just to split asunder, - But as they couldn’t settle that, - They gave it up in wonder. - - Now, had these children dined at home, - I think I may explain, - We never should have seen them here - At dinner in the lane: - Unless when they had dined at home - They’d dined out here again. - - And had the bridge been never built - I think it must appear - These children ne’er had found it, though - They’d sought from year to year; - So, how they could have hung on it, - Is not exactly clear. - - And had I said, when I was asked, - “I cannot sing in winter, - I’ve run my throat against a door, - And spiked it with a splinter;”— - It would have put the artists out, - And much annoyed the printer! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _HARRY’S SOLILOQUY._] - - “There’s ne’er a kitty so sweet and so pretty, - There’s ne’er such a kitty I’ve seen in my life; - “I’m certain,” said Harry, “if ever I marry, - I shall only want kitty, a house, and a wife.” - - “This dear old barrow is nice, though it’s narrow, - It will do very well to take us about; - For my income of course is too small to keep horses, - But that doesn’t matter, we’ll manage without.” - - But alas! for the dreams of the barrow and kitten, - His father’s old pointer came back from the wood; - And the poor little pussy with terror was smitten, - And scampered away as fast as she could. - - And the gardener returned from his evening ablution, - And trundled the barrow straight off to the shed; - And Mary arrived, and with stern resolution - Just carried off Harry and put him to bed. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE DEAD RABBIT._] - - Weep on! he has a happier fate - Than many such as he, - To lie there in the gentle snow, - And die so quietly: - To feel your warm tears fall on him, - To feel your tender hands. - You _know_ he feels as well as you, - You _know_ he understands. - - He might have now been dying - Shot by a cruel gun; - With panting heart and glazing eye - For life he might have run. - E’en now he might be hanging - Above your larder shelves, - And you, you might, indeed you might, - Have eaten him yourselves. - - Weep on! you will not better it; - Or change the world’s old way, - For men will hunt and course and shoot, - Though you should weep for aye. - Weep on! be not ashamed of it, - You’ll own in after years, - That _you yourselves_, if not the world, - Are better for your tears. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE UNAPPRECIATIVE KITTEN._] - - “Did e’er you see a flow’r like that, - So exquisitely pretty?” - Said Mabel to her Kitty-cat; - But not a word said Kitty. - - Perhaps it was in her delight - Mabel contrived to squeeze her, - For though Kit stared with all her might, - The sunflow’r did not please her. - - “Well, well, why don’t you answer me? - Why don’t you say it’s pretty?” - But still she could or would not see,— - She was perverse, was Kitty. - - “Sweet mistress, pray restrain your ire,” - Said Kit in trepidation; - “Why must I say that I admire, - When I’ve no admiration?” - - “Don’t ask me that, you stupid cat,” - Said Mabel in a passion; - “You must, you shall admire,—because, - Because it is the fashion!” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE CAT’S SOLILOQUY._] - - An open cage, some feathers fair, - Two little maidens crying, - And Pussy seated on a chair, - The mournful scene espying. - - Tear after tear rolls down each cheek, - Sob after sob arises, - While Puss, as well as she can speak, - Calmly soliloquises! - - “If they would keep a bird in cage, - They should not leave it undone; - For that’s the tale in every jail - From Panama to London. - - Their ducks and chicks they pet and feed, - And yet I’ve often noted, - They eat the very birds indeed - To which they’re most devoted. - - Then wherefore look so cross and sour, - Why make this sad commotion? - Why should not I a bird devour - For whom I’ve _no_ devotion!” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _TOBY’S LESSON._] - - A was the Alphabet Toby must say, - B was the Birch that made him obey, - C was the Collar he wore to explain, - D the Disgrace he had got in again, - E was the Evening when Toby was gay, - F was the Fate that befell him next day, - G was the Grave look on Muriel’s face, - H was the Hist’ry of Toby’s disgrace:— - I was the Ink that he spilt on the floor, - J was his Jump to get out of the door, - K was the Kick that he got as he past, - L was the Lesson—alas! not the last, - M was the Milk that he stole from the cat, - N was the Nap that he took after that, - O was the Owl that gave him a fright, - P was the Poaching he went for at night, - Q was his Queer look all dirty and worn, - R his Return somewhat early next morn, - S was his Smile that would not avail, - T was the Twitch of his terrified tail, - U “Understand me” he tried to assert, - V, his Vain effort his fate to avert, - W, the Whip which he saw held on high, - X, the Xpression that rose in his eye, - Y was his Yap when at last the whip fell, - Z (like his feelings) I’ll leave you to tell. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _SELINA’S DESTINY._] - - Selina Sophonisba Ann - Had a soul above a frying-pan, - And, when her mother to cook began, - She took to her heels and away she ran. - - Selina Sophonisba, she - Stood all day long ’neath the apple tree, - Till she became most dreadfull_ee_ - What is commonly callèd hungar_ee_! - - Selina Sophonisba Ann - About her dinner to think began, - But the voice of a little Fairy-man - Said, “Don’t go back to the frying-pan, - - “Stay here beneath the apple tree, - And you will find your destin_ee_, - A prince is coming of high degree, - Who will make you queen of his fair countr_ee_.” - - The prince came not: and the moments ran, - And her thoughts to supper to turn began, - So Selina Sophonisba Ann - Went gladly back to the frying-pan. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE OLD PICTURE-BOOK._] - - It was an old old picture-book, - Full of the merriest tales - Of mermaids fair with golden hair, - And ships with silver sails; - Of fairies light who danced at night, - Of goblins on the stair, - And many a knight in armour bright - Who fought for ladies fair. - It was only a battered picture-book, - But ’twas worth its weight in gold, - For it spoke to the children’s tender hearts, - And its tales were never old. - - It is an old old picture-book, - Battered, and torn, and brown; - But why does the mother sit and sigh? - Why do her tears run down? - She listens through the long long eves, - She waits for the opening door, - But the little hands that turned the leaves - Will turn them again no more. - It is only a battered picture-book, - But she cannot lay it by, - For hearts may change, but a mother’s love - Is a love that cannot die! - - - - -[Illustration: _THE LOBSTER AND THE MAID._] - - He was a gentle lobster, - (The boats had just come in,) - He did not love the fishermen, - He could not stand their din; - And so he quietly stole off, - As if it were no sin. - - She was a little maiden, - He met her on the sand, - “And how d’you do?” the lobster said, - “Why don’t you give your hand?” - For why she edged away from him - He _could_ not understand. - - “Excuse me, Sir,” the maiden said, - “Excuse me, if you please,” - And put her hands behind her back, - And doubled up her knees, - “I always thought that lobsters were - A little apt to squeeze.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - “Your ignorance,” the lobster said, - “Is natural, I fear, - Such scandal is a shame,” he sobbed, - “It is not true, my dear!” - And with his pocket-handkerchief - He wiped away a tear. - - So out she put her little hand, - As though she feared him not, - When some one grabbed him suddenly - And put him in a pot, - With water which I think he found - Uncomfortably hot. - - It may have been the water made - The blood flow to his head, - It may have been that dreadful fib - Lay on his soul like lead: - This much is true,—he went in gray, - And came out very red. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _NO THANK YOU, TOM._] - - - They met, when they were girl and boy, - Going to school one day, - And, “Won’t you take my peg-top, dear?” - Was all that he could say. - She bit her little pinafore, - Close to his side she came, - She whispered “No! no, thank you Tom,” - But took it all the same. - - They met one day the selfsame way, - When ten swift years had flown; - He said, “I’ve nothing but my heart, - But that is yours alone.” - “And won’t you take my heart?” he said, - And called her by her name; - She blushed and said “No, thank you, Tom,” - But took it all the same. - - And twenty, thirty, forty years - Have brought them care and joy, - She has the little peg-top still - He gave her when a boy. - “I’ve had no wealth, sweet wife,” says he, - “I’ve never brought you fame:” - She whispers “No! no, thank you, Tom! - You’ve loved me all the same!” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _A BUNCH OF FLOWERS._] - - It was only a bunch of flow’rets wild, - Gathered by children one morning fair; - And it went away in the twilight gray - To the mighty city’s din and glare. - And the great grand flow’rs in the market smiled - At the little bunch of flow’rets wild; - And the crowding passers had but a care - For the many flow’rs that were rich and rare. - - A mother stopt in the market place, - She saw the flow’rets shining there, - And she thought of her child, with his wan, thin face, - Pining all day in the London square. - She left those lordly, blazing flow’rs, - She thought of her far-off childhood hours; - She took that bunch of flow’rets wild— - Her dearest gift to her crippled child. - - And she spoke to him of the thousand ones - Who toiled in the city hour by hour, - Who never had seen the country suns, - And never had plucked a country flow’r, - And a new light shone in his mournful eyes, - He hushed his sad, complaining cries; - For that little bunch of flow’rets wild - Had changed the life of the crippled child. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE CHILDREN’S SONG._] - - What is the song the children hear, - O pealing bells, O Christmas bells, - Echoing high and low, - When skies are dark and winds are drear, - What is the song the children hear - Across the winter snow? - _Christ is born_ (the joy-bells ring) - _Christ is born to be your King,_ - _Christ has come from Heaven to bring_ - _Peace to earth below._ - - What is the song the children sing, - A carol sweet all hearts to greet, - Good news for high and low? - What is the news the children bring, - What is the song the children sing - As through the streets they go? - _Christ is born_ (the children sing), - _Christ is born to be our King,_ - _Christ has come from Heaven to bring_ - _Peace to earth below._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _A BOUGH OF HOLLY._] - - He sat on Christmas morn alone, - No friend to bid him cheer; - He missed them not, though all were gone, - Who loved him yester-year. - And gaily rang the Christmas bells, - Their wondrous tale of old; - He heard no meaning in their sound, - He sate and hugged his gold. - - He watched the happy folks go by, - He scowled to see them glad, - And then a little maid drew nigh, - A holly bough she had. - She lifts her pleading face to him, - She begs in accents wild: - What is it makes his eyes grow dim? - Why does he call the child?— - - He seems to see his mother’s face, - Who died long years ago, - And the holly bough he knelt to place - Upon her grave of snow. - He listened to the Christmas bells, - He felt their meaning then: - Peace upon earth, and in his heart - Peace and good-will to men! - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: _THE END._] - - - The old milestone is reached at last, - And night will be upon us soon; - The western light is changing fast, - And slowly climbs the crescent moon. - - The path that we have trod erewhile - Stretches behind us, growing gray, - And here we stand beside the stile - That ends our journey for to-day. - - Our twilight talks have gone so fast, - Like all things glad, it so must be; - The old milestone is reached at last, - That means good-bye for you and me. - - But we will have no mournful chimes, - Sweet children, no, we shall not part; - For while you listen to my rhymes, - You cannot ever leave my heart! - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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