HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1916-9-7, Page 2THE LAPSE OF
ENOCH WENTWORTH
By. [SAM., GORDON CURTIS,
Author of " The Woman from Wolvertons "
CHAPTER XL--(Cont'd).
"I don't blame you," Oswald smiled.
"I can't imagine why we made such a
blunder, Merry puts it just the way
you dm"
"Thank you, Mr. Merry," Dorcas
turned to the actor with grateful
smile, "I am ready to go with you
any time to see Mrs. Volk."
Dorcas had a new insight in Mer-
ry's character when she found how his
friends held him in esteem. There
was not a touch, in Mrs. Billerwell's
greeting, of hero worship or deference
to the man who had won fame. It
was merely a droll blend of loving de-
votion and motherly tyranny.
Merry jumped to his feet when Mrs.
Volk entered with Julie clinging shyly
to her gown. Dorcas felt instantly a
throb of sympathy and warm friend-
ship. Merry had told her something
of thenpitiful story on the way up'.
town.
"You said once, Miss Dorcas," he
reminded her, "that you were never so
happy as when you had some one to
mother. Alice Volk needs mothering
doubt if she has a friend in the
world except Mother Billerwell and
znyself. Mrs. Billerwell is pure gold,
but Alice needs a woman like you."
Half an hour later they waited on
the platform of an L station for
downtown train. They had scarce
spoken since leaving the Harte
house. Merry realized how deeply t
girl's heart had been stirred. The
entered the brain and took a seat t
gether in silence. She sat gazing
the city below. Then she turne
suddenly.
"Little Tulle is to begin rehearsa
to -morrow morning," she said. "Th
mother made only one condition; the
are to be known under another nam
She is in terror lest her husband find
them.'
"That's all right, but do you thin
the child can play the small 'Corde
Jia'?" asked Merry anxiously.
"You can do anything you wish with
that child. She has a soul and ;sweet-
ness, and she understands. There is
something in her—we call it magnet-
ism in older people—which will reach
across the footlights and grip every
man and woman in the audience. The
child will help me veonderfully. Now
I won't have to create anew 'Cordelia,'
when I come op the stage. My 'Cor-
delia' is simply the little girl grown
older and wiser, with more love for
her father and a larger knowledge of
life."
"You understand perfectly."
"You and I ought to understand
• 'Cordelia' if any one could."
Dorcas sat in silence while they
rushed over the lighted city with its
insistent glimpses of sordid life, Mer-
ry saw her chin tremble once and her
eyes grow misty; then she spoke sud-
denly: "She must have lived through
awful experiences."
"Alive Volk has seen the very
depths. She suffered more than mis-
ery and neglect; there was actual
brutality. I knew her before Volk
came into her lite. She played with
the first New York company I was in.
She was the gayest little creature
then you can imagine—a whimsical,
laughing, care -free, happy child."
"Gay!" Dorcas spoke incredulously.
"The gaiety has gone."
"It has been wrung out of her."
"I never had a real woman friend
except the sisters at bhe convent," said
Dorcas. "I think Alice Volk and I
will be friends. We can help each
other."
'Each other? I had not thought of
it in that way. Your friendship will
mean a great deal to her. It is like
reaching 01.111 a hand to some one who
is drowning.'
'Alice Volk is different from any
one I ever met. When little Julie ran
out to speak to you, I followed her.
The mother laid her hand on my arm,
drew me back into the room, then she
closed the door and kissed me. She
did not say a word. Any other wo-
man would have kissed me while I was
saying ‘Good-by,'—before you and
Mrs. Billerwell. She does unexpect-
ed things that cannot help drawing
one to her."
"Poor soul!" said Merry,
The conductor entered, shutting the
door behind him with a crash. "Twen-
ty-third street/I" he called.
"Let us get off and have dinner
somewhere," suggested the actor. "I
want bo talk to you—for hours,"
CHAPTER XIL
Dorcas and Merry paused for a rno-
ment before a flight of steps which led
up to what had once been a fine priv-
ate residence. Its exclusive days
were past; it was beckoning with all
garish blaze of lighb to every passer-
by. Through the open door came
strains from the overture to "William
Tell."
"What a queer place," said the girl"
"You can't realize its queerness un-
til we are inside. The crowd that:
gathers here is as motley as any you
find in New York."
Dorcas ran lightly up the steps.
The cafe, shabby and weatherlbeaten
out -doors, was bizarre inside. At the
farther end a daub of painted canvas
attempted to create the illusion of
sunlit fields. Againsb it rose a theat-
rical apple tree. A hundred electric
lights blazed inside crimson apples on
its widespread branches. Under it,
a at a huddle of tables, people were din-
ly ing vociferously. The place shriek -
m ed its antagonism to bhe civilized
he ceremony of feeeing. Humanity dug
Y its elbows into one another while it
0- handled knives and forks, and scream -
at ed its conversation. The rooms reek -
d ed with a hundred odors of highly -
seasoned food and tobacco smoke. It
is was a bewildering blend of light and ,
e smells and noise. Dorcas followed
Y Merry through the labyrinth to a'
e. small table in a silent corner, hedged
k
about with palms.
"I come here time and again," eon-
fessed Merry after they were seated.
"I love the place; the crowd is so in-
teresting. People Int themselves
loose in a coop like this; they enjoy
life frankly,"
"I should think they did," Dorcas
laughed gaily.
Across bhe room a party of college
lads were humming a ragtime song
in utter inharmony to the orchestra's
music. Corks were popping amid the
rattle of dishes and silver while
laughter in a hundred tones, and the
languages of all the old Latin races,
were blended in the strange babel.
"It's a droll little world," said Mao -
Dorcas pulled off her gloves and sat
smoothing bhem between her fingers.
"I remember," Andrew gazed about
him in a reminiscent mood, "one sea-
son I was tied up with a summer pro-
duction, and it was horribly lonesome
in New York. There was not a soul
in our company I -wanted to fraternize
with. Enoch was West. I used to
come here night after night and work
myself into a light-hearted mood. I
had a part I hated. did not go on
until the second ace, so sometimes I
stayed here until half -past seven. The
place waked me up. I got into a queer
humor while watching people. Before
it wore off I used to dash to bhe thea-
tre, as one acts when you are over-
powered with sleep, and try to get to
bed before you go wide awake again.
Usually I don't have to hammer my
self into the disposition for work.
When I am cast for some role that
makes one fairly snort with impa-
tience, it is horribly hard to feel like
it If I get a human character, I
love it.'
'Like 'John Esterbrook?' "
"Yes, like 'John Esterbrook'. Miss '
Dorcas," Merry went on eagerly. "I
went tramping yesterday—alone. I
found myself within sight of another
state before I pulled up. I was—
heaven knows how many miles from
anywhere. I thrashed things out with
myseln. I'm going bo make 'Sohn Es-
terbrook' the biggest thing that has
struck New York in years,"
"Dorcas laeghed. She felt foolishly
happy.
"I am so glad," she said.
"It's up to me to do the best I can;
0.1410,
lir 411urm Ili
R. L-4-
,
• ItEtP *VOUg .S1-10gS. NEAT
F, F. CALLEY CO, OF CANAbli, LTD,, HAMILTON,' OANAOA
'..emzeirestlrersordemarammemoirmanamicormaenlutsmettalmeramatos.
towe it to yell,"ithere was rha dee
ermination1»Meeryal voice; "to nog
and Oswald, liefe a prince of aped
faint; now: Alice Voile and the child
Come into ite"
And youreelf," -
"Yes, myself. If I succeed, it meane
retieving more than you imagine."
"And you will confess you Wrote the
play ?"
"Note—yet."
"Miss Dorcas," Merry's voice had a
tone of entreaty in it. "I want to ask
one NI' , of you. I ask it because
your faith in me in so great and lip
lifting. Drop the authorship of th
play, I cannot explain, I cannot fie!
the thoughts you have of mo. Yo
said once, believe, in you,' Do yo
remember?"
Dorcas looked at him with stead
fast eyes and nodded.
"Go on believing. It's the kindes
thing you can do for me, and—fo
E nTohc eh"
r
eyes made a compact thougl
no word was spoken.
They lingered over strange dishes
that enure and went rood seemed
merely a circumstance, an excuse for
being alone and together. They felt
curiously isolated, for the noise made
a retreat for them as silence does. A
sudden hill fell on the babel of sound.
The orchestra, which had rested for a
few minutes, began again—not one of
its long overtures, but a prelude to the
florid mesie in an Italian opera,
Through the murky atmosphere a
evoraan's voice shrilled out With rare
sweetness.
Dorcas rose to her feet for a sec-
ond, searching for the singer. then
she seated herself with her back to
the table. The crash of dishes, the
.
rattle of silver, and the popping of
corks continued, but tongues were
stillecl except for one voice, It was
singing the tremendous aria from
"Frnani." The girl drew a long
breath as the last note died away in-
to silence then she turned eagerly to
Merry.
"Who is she?"
"I'll tall you in a minute."
She turned again to look at the
singer, who stood crushed into a nar-
row balcony which was crowded to
discomfort by a piano and four mu-
sicians. The woman was absurdly fat
and absurdly gowned. Years ago, in
the palmy days of a concert bour, she
had swept upon the platform in a robe
of burnt orange velvet splashed gor••
geously with silver lace and scintillate
ing embroidery. It had seen years of
service, then grown tawdry, unfash-
ionable, soiled, and grotesquely queer,
It reminded Dorcas of the stately poor
in the last tage of shabbiness. The
woman's straw-colored hair was gath-
ered into a ridiculous pompadour.
Across the dining room, through mur-
ky waves of tobacco smoke, the girl
could see careworn wrinkles about the
woman's eyes. The vivid scarlet of
her cheeks was pitifully false, false as
the whiteness of her vast, bare shoul-
ders. Again she began to sing, some-
thing which came thrilling from the e
wonderful throat with perfect colora-
tura. She threw back her head and'
tilted her face till Dorcas saw only
the profile. For ane momenh the gross
lines disappeared; instead came a
glimpse of beauty and picturesque -
ON TIE FARM
Growing Buckwheat.
Buckwheat is the least common of
the grains. Probably be.eauae of the
fact that it has been overehadowed by
other crops more universally grown,
buckwheat has, until recently, been
e given but little attention by experi-
• ment stations and consequently the
te crop has been quite frequentllyegrown
• in a very haphazard way. Beat-
a wheat has been called a "poor land"
crop. It is true that buckwheat will
e frequently produce a profitable crop
onland too poor to produce either oats
4, or rye profitably, but it will do still
• • better if given goo,1 treatment. In
• fact, the New York Experiment Sta-
tion finds that "buckwheat when
grown en poor land responds well to
moderate dressings of even low grade
fertilizei, and many farmers who do
pot use fertilizer on other crops find
withpoiamtfi.,,table to purchase it for buck -
Soil Requirements.
I! well -drained soils, such as sandy and
Buckwheat is well suited to light
•
silt loams. Ib needs but little lime,
I growing well in acid stele without
Ohne, where alfalfa and red clover
could not succeed. The plant seems
unusually active in taking plantfood
: from poor and rocky soils. It needs
alarger proportion of phosphoric acid
and potash than of nitrogen, since
t large growth of straw is not desired
I so much as profuse bloom and early
1. filling of seeds.
i When to Plant. .
IUnder the most favorable cond
I Nora' buckwheat will mature in
weeks, but the average time is sbo
12 weeks. It does best when seed
' We, but js very sensitive to cold an
is killed by the first heavy frost. The
aim should be to bring the crop to
maturity just before frost. In the
latitude of southern New York this
means that the crop should be plant-
ed about the first week in July.
Buckwheat should be sown on land
prepared as for corn. It is an excel
lent crop to sow where corn has been
planted, but where a stand has not
been secured. Best results are ob-
tained where the land is plowed early,
but fairly good results can be obtain-
ed by sowing immediately after plow-
ing if the land is well prepared.
Buckwheat is usually seeded at the
rate of three to five pecks per acre.
If a drill is used and the seed is of
good vitality, as little as three pecks
may be sufficient" if the soil is fertile
It is best bo use a grain drill, be
good results can be secured by broad-
casting the seed and harrowing it in.
Three varieties of buckwheat are
commonly grown—Japanese, Silver
and Common Grey, the first two
being the most generally ueed. Jap-
anese has a dark -colored seed, while
he Silver Hull has a smaller Beed,
glossy or silvery in appearance. These
two varieties are of about equal value,
when yields are considered.
Because of its plantfood require-
ments and the exceedingly short sea
"SILVER GL SS"
DSUURG)
(EDWAR
"Silver GloeS" has been doing
perfect starching In Canadian
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In one pound -packages and six
pound fancy enanielied tins.
THE CANADA STARCH
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13FIANTFORD, PORT WILLIAM.
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tare
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SNEEZE, BUT DON'T
BLAME THE HAY
CITY PEOPLE SUFFER mosr
FROM HAY FEVER.
Cauced Nearly Always From Rag-
weed Pollen, Seldom From
Goldenrod,
• Exhaustive investigation and re.
search has convinced us that the ilaY
fever victim has one thing to be thank -
fel for—he never need be afraid to
. hit the hay. The only plant weed, oz'
vegetable which never has been con-
victed of causing pollinosin which is
Greek for hay fever, is the hay itself.
, Anything else ,that grove In Yon va-
cant lot, from Rumex oblusifolius, or
as 11 18 called, dock, to Plantago Ian.
etiolate, which is a mean uppish way
of saying Plantain, may account for
I your particular case of "autumnal
catarrh," or, if you prefer, "hyperaes-
diode rhinitis," but never, never thno-
t thy or clover hay, writes Dr, William
Brady, In the New York Sun.
About one per cent. of the Impala.
tion of cities have hay fever. Most of
these cases come in August and Sep-
tember, but some cases develop in
early summer—the ao-called "rose
cold," which generally is not caused
by roe pollen. Hay fever eymptome,
in the milder oases, resemble those of
ordinary coryza or "cold In the head,"
Indeed., the disecte may, be mistaken
for a "cold." There Is sneezing, °ek-
ing of the nostrils from swelling of
the mucous membrane, serious or
watery. running of the nose, itching
of the inner corners of the eyes, ,and
slight elevation of temperature at
the onset and a tendency to subnor-
mal temperature later. There usually
The farmer need geeerally have no
fear of bilis crop being damaged by
either insect enecies or fungous die -
eases, 08 the buckwheat plant is but
little affected by either. It is an ex-
cellent: crop for destroying weeds and
for renovating and putting the soil
in fine mellow condition, and when
properly handled could be grown with
profit on many more farms.
Hot Weather Rules.
1, Load lightly, and drive slowly.
2. Stop in the shade if possible.
3. Water your horse as often as pos-
sible. So long as a horse is working,
water in small quantitibs will not hurt
him. But let him drinlc only a few
-swallows if he is going to stand still.
Do not fail to water him at night after
he has eaten his hay.
4. When he comes in after, work,
sponge off the harness marks and
sweat:, his eyes, his nose and mouth,
and the dock. Wash his feet but not
his legs.
5. If the thermometer is 76 degrees
or higher, wipe him all over with a
damp sponge. Ilse vinegar water if
possible. Do not turn the bine on
him.
6. Saturday night, give a bran
mash, lukewarm; and add a table-
spoonful of saltpeter.
7. Do not use a horse -hat, unless it
is a canopy -top hat. The ordinary
bell-shaped hat does more harm
than good.
8. A sponge on bop of the head, or
oven a cloth, is good if kept wet. If
dry it is worse than nothing.
9. If the horse is oyercome by heat,
get him into the shade, remove har-
ness and birdie, wash out his mouth,
sponge him all over, shower his legs,
and give him two ounces of aromatic
spirits of ammonia .or two ounces of
sweet spirits of nitre, in a pint of
water; or give him a pint of coffee
Warill. Cool his head at once, us-
ing cold wetter, or, if necessary, chop-
ped ice, wrapped in a cloth. '
10. If the horse is off his feet, try
him with two quarts of oats mixed
with bran, and a little water; and add
a little salt or sugar. Or give him
oatmeal gruel or barley water to drink
• tis considerable general depression,
due to the subnormal temperature and
difficulty •of breathing through the
nose, especially when lying down. In
d some cases asthmatic trouble occom-
panies the attack.
The develOpment of the epidemic
when hay was harvested each year
led to the suspicion that hay pollen
was a cause. Tho fact, is, however,
that ragweed (ambrosia) is the cause
cinastehse. majority of cases, and 111.1 more
for a very small proportion of the
conspicuous golden rod is to blame
Ragweed to Blame.
Ragweed will grow any old place,
where nothing in particular is grown.
It comes in two sizes—trial size and
hospital size.. The trial size or com-
mon ragweed is aim, mean, ordinary -
looking -weed that infests the byways
of civilization. It has ragged, thin
leaves and spikes at homely green
flowers at the ends ot the branches.
The weed loves to spring up in fields
vhere a crop of wheat, rye, or oats
recently has been cut, and usually
grows two or three feet high. The poi.
en of ragweed is as light as smoke
nd flies for a considerable distance
n the wind. It Is so abundant during
he ripening of the flowers that it will
stain the clothing of a person walking
through the field a yellow color. That
the ragweed pollen is the specific
cause of hay fever may be demons -
tented In any case by freeing some
harvested pollen In the room with the
patient. It will bring on the symp-
toms at once at any tame of year if it
truly the cause.
Various other plants than ragweed •
ay produce pollinosis in certain
astiS.
A. popular idea is that hay fever
ay be avoided by going to a high ele•
ation, as in the mountains. This is
sly relatively true. Ragweed and
ther bay fever producing plants are
neoramon above an altitude of 6,000
et, but In mountain resorts of or -
nary elevation such plants abound
nd hay fever is frequent.
City folks suffer more frequently
an country folks. The explanation.
✓ this is unquestionably a matte,/
acquired or inherited immunity—
o dountry resident being exposed
our infancy and the city resident be-
g exposed only upon rare occasions.
Hard to Cure.
The pollen does not produce the
aracteriatic irritation. The symp
me of hay fever come on within a
w moments after the patient has
en exposed, as in driving past a Bold
walking along a street where rag-
ed may be growing.
The treatment of hay fever is a
ng the profesion never boasts
out. Cures aro none too many. Op.
ations on minor irregularities in the
se and throat are seldom, if ever,
ective. Sprays, douches, salve,
wders, and internal remedies have
air place and help to render the el-
k endurable, but do not cure. A
a voyage, of course, is an ideal
iedy.
Hypodermic doges of ragweed and
denrod pollen have boon used with
od effect.
A. thorough cleansing of the nasal
sages with simple normal salt so-
ion (teaspoonftil of salt in it pint
boiled water), or with boric aoid
ution (a tablespoonful of powdered
tic acid dissolved in half a pint of
led water), or with one of the
bus entente entieeptio solutions
siderably diluted with warn] water,
helpful, This must be done ra.
arly night and morning,
Havieg----Funith His Wife.
My wife gave a reception yester-
,
Did you attend?"
Yes. I played a practical joke on
I got in line when gee was receiVe
and before she knew it she was
ling and saying she eves glad to see
eDo 111111011 Government '
ness,a dignity which belonged to the es
days of youth lied power, the royal '
days of a singer.b
The room rang with an encore, then a
came a shriek of command. "Dance!"
shouted the group of students in a r
corner.
"Oh!" cried Dorcas piteously. "oh!
how can they do it?"
The musicians huddled themselves
and their instruments closer together, e
indifferently as if it were part of e'
every night's program. The pianist
struck a few bars of some tinkling ri
thing in a musical comedy, then the m
singer began to sway her huge body. g
There was no space for her feet be
move. She sang to the accompani-
ment, but the physical effort made her pe
wheeze. The orchestra dashed into ze
a trippin horns d h
iasm of the guests waxed high. Cheers
were intermingled with laughter and
screams of derision.
"Oh!" cried Dorcas, "ohl the shame
of iti"
(To be continued),
on of growth, manure has not been
ound satisfactory as a fertilizer for
uckwheat Fresh manure contains
larger percentage of nitrogen than
t does of phosphoric acid, just the
everse of what buckwheat needs
For most profitable results on stony
and sandy soils under normal condi-
tions about 200 to 800 pounds of a
fertilizer containing one to two per-
cent ammonia, ten to twelve percent
hosphortc acid and two to four per-
ent potash should be applied at time
f seeding. On loam or other soils
ch in organic matter, use less am-
onia, Buckwheat, 'unlike other
rains never straightens up after it
nee falls. Potash makes the stalks
trong and prevents lodging. Under
esent abnormal conditions a fertili-
e analyzing about one percent of
ammonia, eight percent phosphoric
acid rind one percent potash may be
substituted or the potash may be
omitted _entirely in which case the
phosphoric acid should be increased
somewhat.
One grower says, "T like to raise
buckwheat because it is the only grain
for which I can buy fertilizer on a
20 -day note and pay for it out of the
crop it makes.'
Buckwheat blooms for three weeks
longer and the grain ripens as
evenly. This °free causes quite a
s during a wet harvest season or
m early frosts. Phosphoric acid
uses grain to form and hastens Ina-
ity, hence an available simply of
s plantfood hastens ripening, thus
eventing loss from early frosts and
posure ordinarily caused during wet
sons while waiting 105 all the
ain to ripen.
The farmer does not need man-
e machinery for harvestieer the
&wheat crop. An old-haehioned
(Ile, although it requires hard la -
does the harvesting well. The
p reaper, however, is one of the
et satisfactory machines for hare
ting. Cutting is begun as soon as
&at blossoms' have disappeared,
often just before the first frost is
ettod, Buckwheat will mature
seed in a few days, if, after cat -
g, the crop is Ion in loose bundles
ere they are dropped from the
die or reaper. It should then be
up in email shocks and tied near
top with some strangle of the
aw bent upwatd froei the sides of
shoeq. The mit buckwheat ie
ally left in the field la the shoolte
til threshing time, when ie
awn and threshed either With the
1 or by Maelikiety,
GETS SIG FAMILY PRIZE.
Paris Woman Raises 19 Children --
Seven Soys at Prone
Etienne Lamy, member of the or
French Academy, has recently given un
5100,000 to found -prizes for the largest les
families among the peasants of fro
France. He has suffered more aria. ea
eism for limiting his prizes to Catholic ,,
families than praise for his generosity.
As long ago as 1841, a philanthropist, ""
M. do Revel*, rounded a prize, 5600 pr
every second year, to be given to the ex
most deserving family in the city of sea
Paris. gr
This prize has just been awarded to
Mms Devlercy, a widow, aged 66, who siv
has raised a family of fifteen (eight be
boys and seven girts) out of the nine-, „
teen born to her. She lute provided Zr"
for their needs by telling vegetableslracr
from a pushcart, dro
kite. Deviercy was born in Paris mo
and ter husband, a maSon, died soon' ves
after the birth of her nineteenth child.! the
One or her boys is paralyzed, but the' or
other seven are at the front, as are exp
two of her sons -law. The youngest,' its
belonging to the class of 1916, has Just
been invalided from Verdun, He has 1
been at the front fourteen months and; wh
has been cited in the order of the day.' ern
Another son has iiIso been cited and al set
third was wounded. The prize wind the
ner has already twentpeight grand, att
children, (Me of her sons having sup-' the
plied tourteen.
I use
un
Whipping dots nob always separate ' dee
a bay from his bad habits, fidi
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can be cashed In Toronto. This is the safest and most ligltimate of all the
great war profits, and occurs through the technical condition of Russian ex-
change produced by this war. Write or teloPhone for circular fully explaining.
• . EDWARD CRONYN & CO.
•
CE0NYN BUILDING, TORONTO, TELEPHONE EC 1111.
Is pure refined Parowax. It keeps the tumblers
absolutely air -tight. .Keeps the jellies free from
mold and fermentation.
r
PURR REFINED PAR/AMMO
gives the best results with none of the trouble.
All you have to do is pour melted Parowax over
the tumbler tops and the preserves will keep
indefinitely, Parowax is absolute insurance
against fermentation of any sort.
PO% THE LKONDRY—See directions on Parowax
labels for its use in valuable service in washing.
At grocery, department and general stores everywhere.
THE IMPERIAL OIL COMPANY
Limited
BRANCHES IN ALL CITIES
XIV4.44
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Billy—Yes, where one woman will
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Thirty yoaril ago a drought in Atte-
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