Be Sa County ecth Hevald $2.00 per Annum VOL. 2, No. 23.] '(All extremes are error, the opposite of error is not truth but error; truth lies between the extremes." in advance. STRATFORD, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 1864. [WHOLE No. 50 Select Poetry. LILLE ILIV LIND The Wife's Appeal. Come near me, let me lay my hand Once more upon thy brow, And let me whisper in thine ear, Love's last and fondest vow. The lips that breathe these trembling words Will soon be cold in death, And thy dear cheek can feel no more There warm and loving breath. ay I go from thee ; God only knows How I have longed to stay-- How I have shuddered thus to tread The lone and shadow'd way. Faith tells me that I soon may know The joys the blessed find, And yet I falter, while I cast A ling'ring look behind. I see thee bowed before me here, In bitterness and tears, But I can leave thee something still To light thy weary years. Young, tender forms will cling to thee, Perhaps will miss my tone, And though they may not share thy grief, Thou wilt not feel alone. Fold them still closer to thy breast, To soothe their childish woe, And cheer the many lon ly hours The motherless must know. The world, with all its hopes and joys, Will sometimes make thee glad, 7 But they must linger round a hearth All desolate and sad. And oh! when time shall calm thy grief, Perchance the hour may come, When thou wilt win another form To share thy heart and home. When thou wilt welcome to thy board .. A yonger, fairer face, ' And bid thy, children smile on her, Who takes their mother's place. But think not could I speak to thee, That I would frown or blame, Though they should love the stranger one, And call her by my name: For they will speak to thee of me, My memory is their trust, A word, a smile, a look like mine, Will call me from the dust. Yet make my grave no place of tears, But let the dear ones bring To cheer their mother's lonely home, The blossom's of the spring; And even there thou too may'st kneel, And softly press the earth, That covers her whose face once gave A brightness to thy hearth. Then will the forms of early years, Steal softly to thy side, And for an hour thon canst forget Thou hast another bride. She may be all thy heart can ask, So dear, so true to thee, But 0! the spring time of thy love, Its freshness was for me. May she be blest. who comforts thee, And with a gentle hand, Still guides the little trembling ones That makes our household band. She cannot know the tenderness That fills their mother's breast, But she can love them for thy sake, And make thee more than blest. Yet keep one place, one little place, From all the rest apart, One spot which I may call " a home," Within thy faithful heart. And in the holy hour of dreams, When spirits fill the air, With tender eye and folded wing, Ill softly rest me there. May God forgive this erring love, That is to mortals given, It almost woos my spirit back From happiness and Heaven. And yet I feel it will not die, When this frail life is o'er, But watch till all my loved onés come, Where we shall part no more. * From Chamber's Journal. LOST SIR MASSINGBERD. ( Continued.) CHAPTER XVIII.--HARLEY STREET. While I was thus passing my time at Fairburn, at. work with my tutor, in rides rendered doubly lonesome by contrast with those made so enjoy- able by the company of my friend, or in rambles about the solitary Chase; the course of true love was running more smoothly in Harley Street than itis fabled to-do. During each of my visits there, I had perceived its silent increase even more clearly than those between whom it was growing up into the perfect flower, leaf by leaf, and bud by bud 5 they had tended it together-- Marmaduke and Lucy--until it was well-nigh in blossom, and yet they had not said to one another, and perhaps 'not even to themselves :' "Why, this is surely Love.' Mr. Gerard had watched it, not displeased, for he had found the young man all my heart 'had foretold that he would ; Mr. Clint had 'seen it, and won by the 'strong sense as'much as by the beauty of the gentle girl, forgot the revolutionary stock of 'which she came. This, thought he, is the Wife for Marma- duke Heath ; tender, but yet determined; duti- ful, but indisposed to submit to authorised dic- tation; as fearless -as-kind. Inher, once wed- ded to this young man, so morbid, so sensitive, so. yielding, Sir Massingbird. would find, if. it should-be necessary; not only a foe, resolute herself, but as firm as steel for him whom she had dowered with herlove. What Marmaduke's nature wanted, hers would supply. The keen lawyer forsaw for that unhappy family, whose interests he and his had had in keeping so many core of years, a future such as had never been 'promised before. It was an admission painful enough to me at that time, but which I could not conceal from myself, that the real obstacle which prevented the open recognition of attach- ment between these two young people was Mar- maduke himself. No girl more modest or less forward than Lucy Gerard ever breathed, but I knew--ah, how well I knew !--that a word from him would have brought the love-light to her eyes, which now lay waiting but for it in the careful keeping of her maiden heart. But that word had not been spoken. Perfect love, Mar- 1 maduke did not yet feel, for he had not yet cast out fear. How can a man offer heart and hand to a woman whom he does not feel certain that he can protect? It is for this reason that mar- riage among slaves must for ever be a mockery. There was, of course, no danger to Lucy Gerard in her marrying with Marmaduke, although his uncle should storm 'no' a thousand times; but the young man felt that he was unworthy of her, while he entertained any terror of him. It was wearing away ; it was weakening day by day, through genial influences, and the absence of all things which reminded him of Fairburn and its master, but it was not dead yet. If, by these words, I lead any of my readers to suppose that Marmaduke Heath had the least resemblance to that thing which is called a Coward, I have done my friend a grievous wrong. Let me do away with the possibility of this most mistaken notion, at once and for ever, by the recital of an event which, although it does not come within the scope of the present narrative, nearly concerns one of its most important characters. After the peace in 1815, there were more offi- cers--English and French--killed in single com- bat in Paris than in any one of the most bloody battles of the late war. This desire to extermi- nate individual Englishmen extended over the whole of France. A certain gentleman of my acquaintance, then a very young man, chanced to be passing through a town in Normandy, where an assemblage was collected outside the office of the mayor, This arose from the very tncommon. circumstance, that that functionary had been appealed to by a post-captain in the English navy to punish a bullying Frenchman, who had striven to fasten a quarrel upon him, although entirely unprovoked on his part. Now a days, the captain would have been held to have behayed rightly enough, perhaps, but in those fire-eating times, an honest man's life was at the mercy of every worthless ruffian who chose to run an equal risk with him from powder and bullet. The decision, wonderful to relate, was given by the mayor against his compatriot, and the crowd were correspondingly enraged. My friend, whose nationality was apparent, was hustled and illtreated, and one person well dres- sed, and evidently of good position, knocked his hat off, observing at the same time: 'You will complain of me to the mayor for that,' 'Certainly not,' returned the young English- man quietly, picking his hat up, all broken and muddy from the trampled ground ; 'I shall treat you very differently.' * 'You will fight, will you? Come--TI challenge you, Let us fight to-morrow morning,' exclaim- ed the bully, who was, as it turned out, a noto- rious provincial duellist. * Not to-morrow, but now,' rejoined my friend ; 'I have no time to wait here ; for I must be in Paris on Tuesday.' ' Then it will be in Pere la: Chaise,' responded the other brutally. There was no difficulty in procuring seconds, which were even more plentiful in those parts than principals, and the whole party immediate- ly left the town for a wood outside its suburbs. The choice of weapons of course lay with the Englishman. 'Which do you prefer,' asked the Frenchman who acted as his friend upon the oecasion-- the pistol or the sword?' 'IT have never fired a pistol in my life,' replied the Englishman, ' nor handled a sword.' 'Heavens!' cried his second, 'what a barba- rous education, what a stupendous ignorance ! You are as good as dead, I fear. I/know not which to recommend you. It is, however, at least sooner over with the pistol.' 'The pistol be it then,'said the Englishman coolly. 'I elect that only one shall be loaded ; and that we fire within four paces of one another. We shall then have an equal chance.' The duellist turned pale as the death that threatened him, but he did not venture to make any objection. It was manifest nO other propo- sal would have been fair.. The seconds went apart, and placed powder and. ball in one. wea- pon, powder only in the other. The combatants drew lots for choice. The Frenchman won. The pistols were lying on a log of wood; he ad- vanced towards them, took up one in his hand, and retired with it, then once more came back, and exchanged it for the other. He fancied that the weapon was lighter than it should have been if it had a ball within it. My friend's second objected strongly to this course; he called it even unfair and.shameful; he protested that the pistol taken first ought to be retained: | But the young Englishman, who was leaning carelessly against a tree, exclaimed: 'Let the gentleman have which he likes. Whether he is right or not will be decided in a few seconds.' So the combatants were placed opposite to one another, and advanced to within four paces. They raised their weapons; the word was given to fire, and the Frenchman fell, pierced through the heart. 'His blood is upon his own head,' exclaimed the other solemnly. 'He was braye exough to have been a better man' Then perceiving that his help could be of no avail to his late antago- nist, he lifted his battered hat to the Frenchman that remained alive, and returning to his carriage, immediately resumed his journey, It is not possible, without putting some very Strained and unusual meaning on the word, to call the hero of such # adventure a coward ; yet the man who acted thus was Marmaduke Heath.: The above relation is but:a clumsy method of proving him couragous, I am well aware ;. but I really know not otherwise*how to make him ap- pear 80, slave, as itis seen he was, to terror' which must' seem almost imaginary. It is said that no man, however fearless, quite gets over his .awe of his schoolmaster. An exaggeration of this sentiment probably possessed this unfor- tunate young man; added to which was the fact which was doubtless not without its influence, notwithstanding Marmaduke's evil opinion of his forbears. I suspect, too, he entertained a morbid notion that his own life and that of his relative were somehow bound up together in one; and on the few occasions when I ever saw him moved to wrath, a similarity, mental as well as phy- sical, between him and his uncle became appa- rent, which actually inspired him with a sort of awe and hatred of himself A noble mind more injured and misshapen by illtraining it was im- possible to imagiue. For the last few months, however, as I have said, it had been growing aright, and gaining strength and vigor. No home --even Mr. Clint and my tutor felt that-- could possibly be better adapted for him than his present one ; the society of Mr. Gerard, a man independent almost to audacity, and despis- ing the haughty and the strong with a supreme contempt, was the very tonic he needed. Rare- ly, however, was his uncle's name mentioned in his presence : at first, Mr. Gerard'had purposely spoken of Sir Massingberd lightly and jestingly, but it was found that the subject had better be altogether avoided. It is ill to jest upon earth- quakes with one who, having but just recovered from certain shocks of a volcanic nature, is not without apprehensions of more to come. This anticipation turned out to be but to well grotind- ed. A day or two after my discovery of the baronet's poor gipsy-wife at Fairburn, whose existence was well known, I found, to both the rector and Mr. Clint, and of course to Marmaduke himself, the postman carried misfortune from me to Harley Street, although I was as unconscious of the factas he. Marmaduke did not come in to luncheon from his study as usual, and Mr. Gerard was sent with a gay message to him by Lucy, to bid him do so. He was not wanted, he was to be assured, upon his own account, at all, but she was dying to hear news of Peter, whose handwriting she had perceived upon the letter that had been sent into him that morning. Mr. Gerard found the poor lad with his eyes 4 riveted upon an autograph that was not mine, and upon words that I would rather have cut off my hand than knowingly have sent him : 'Nepnew MarmMapuxe--I am told, whether falsely or not, it does not matter now, that you have not seen the letter which I previously sent to you. I think you can scarcely have done so, or you would not have dared to disobey my or- ders therein contained, but would have returned to Fairburn long ago, At all events, you will read this with your own eyes, and Beware how you hesitate to comply with it. Return hither, sir, at once. It is idle to suppose that I wish you harm, as those you are with would fain per- suade you; but itis far wurse than idle to at- tempt to cross my will. Come back to Fairburn, and I will behave towards youas though you had not acted in your late undutiful manner. Delay to do so, and be sure that you will still have to return, but under very different circum- stances. Marmaduke Heath, you should know me well by this time When I say Come, it is bad for the person to whom I speak to reply 'I will not come.' I give you twenty-four hours to arrive here after the receipt of this letter ; when these have elapsed without my seeing you, I shall consider your absence to be equivalent to a contumacious refusal. hen war will begin between us; and the strife will be unequal, Nephew Marmaduke ; although you had fifty men at your back like Lawyer Clint and this man Gerard, they could not keep you from my arm. It will reach you wheresoever you are, at the time you least suspect it, and from the quarter to which you have least looked. However well it may, seem to be with you, it will not be well. When you think yourself safest, you will be most in danger. There is indeed but one place of safety for you; come you home. Massinaperp Hearth.' y i The wily baronet had fooled me, and doubt- less, when I rese to light the taper, had substi- tuted the above letter for that which he had persuaded me to enclose to his unhappy nephew. CHAPTER XIX.--BEFORS THE BLOW. As yetin ignorance of the mischief which I had unwittingly done to my dearest friend, I could not but wonder why I received no news from Harley Street. I had confessed to Mr, Long what Sir Massingberd had persuaded me to do, and although he had thought me wrong te have acted without consulting him in the matter, he anticipated no evil consequences, He rather sought to laugh me out of my own fore- bodings and presentiments. Still there was this somewhat suspicious corroboration of them, that the new-born courtesies of our formidable neigh- bor had suddenly ceased, as though the end for which they had been used was already attained. The baronet's manner towards us was as surely as ever, and even a trifle. more so, as if to recompense himself for his previous con- strained politeness. To myself, his manner was precisely that of a man who does nct attempt to conceal his contempt for one whov he has duped. Since Marmadoke's departure, ' aere had gone forth various decrees, injunctions, and what not, from the Court of Chancery, obtained, through Mr. Clint, on behalf of the heir-presumptive, against certain practices of Sir Massingberd con- nected with the estate. Formerly, he had done what he chose, not only with 'his own,' but with what was not his own, in the eye of the law. "But Marmaduke's revisionary rights were now strictly protected. Nota tree in the Park could fall beneath the axe, but the noise therecf reached the Chancellor's ears, and brought down 'reproof, and even threats, upon the incensed baronet. His hesitation to institute proecedings for the recovery of his ward, had given' confi- dence to -his opponents; and Mr. Harvey Gerard was not one to suffer the last wrong to be com- mitted with impunity; it was out of his pocket that the exp-nses came forthe edicts necessary t» enforce compliance, and I have heard him say that he never remembered to have spent any money with greater personal satisfaction: This "thinning the timber' (as Sir Massingberd euphoniously termed cutting down the most or- namental trees, in his excusatory dispatches), having been put a stop to, the Squire took to selling the family'plate. A quantity of ancient silver, with the astonished Griffins upon it, was transferred from the custody of Gilmore to that of certain transmuters of metal in town, and came back again to Fairburn Hall in the shape that Sir Massingberd was his uncle, a family tie of gold pieces. But even the melting-pot was compelled to disclose its secrets ; and the Squire received such a severe reprimand upon the text of Heirlooms, as made him writhe with passion, and which put an end to any friendly connection that might have before existed betweer himself and John, Lord Eldon, at once and for ever. I think it must have been immediately after the receipt of that very communication, that Sir Massingberd came over to the Rectory upon the following errand: Mr. Long and myself were at our Tacitus in the study one evening, when the baronet was announced, and I rose to leave the room. 'Stay where you are, young gentleman,' said he roughly ; 'what I have to say will, it is like enough, soon be no secret to anybody. Mr. Long, I must tell you at once that money I must have. The way in which my property is med- died with by the lawyer in London, set on to do it by friends of yours, too, is beyond all bearing. I declare to you that [--Sir Massingberd Heath, the nominal owner of twenty thousand acres, and of a rent-roll of half as many thousand pounds--have not five guineas in my pocket at this moment, nor do I know how to raise them. Now, am I a man, think you, to sit down with my hands before me, and submit to such a state of things as this ?' 'Really, Sir Massingberd, I cannot say,' re- turned my tutor; 'I cannot see how I can help you in any way.' , 'Yes, you can help me, sir. You have influ- ence with those persons--curse them !--who have taken it in hand to do me these injuries, who have interfered between uncle and nephew, be- tween guardian and ward. Now, I have made up my mind what I will do, and I am come here to let you know it You pretend to entertain some regard towards your late pupil Marma- duke,' ' 'The regard is genuine, Sir Massingberd. I wish others entertained the like, who are more nearly connected with him than by the bond of pupil and tutor.' 'Pray, put me out of the question,' returned the baronet coolly. 'WhatI have to say con- cerns others, not myself. You like this lad, and wish him well; you hope for him an unclouded future ; you trust that the character of the family will be redeemed in his virtuous hands, and that the remembrance of what ithas been will not cleave to him, but will gradually die out.' 'That is my earnest desire rephed Mr. Long gravely. ' 'Tam glad to hear it,' continued the other; 'and L suppose Mr. Clint cherishes some similar notion; and this man Gerard--this rebel, this hypocrite'. r 'Sir Massingberd Heath,' said I, interrupting him, 'you have bidden me stay here ; but I shall not remain to listen to slanders against Mr. Harvey Gerard ; he is no hypocrite, but a very honest and kind-hearted man.' 'He has hoodwinked this young wiseacre al- ready, you see, pursued the baronet. ' His ob- ject is evidently to secure the heir of Fairburn for his daughter; I have not the least doubt the jade is making play with the poor molly-coddle as fast as'. Mr. Long and myself both rose before the speaker could finish his sentence. My tutor checked with his fingers the wrathful words that were at my lips, and observed with energy: 'Sir Massingberd, be silent! Under my roof, you shall not traduce that virtuous and excellent young girl.' I never saw Mr. Long so excited; I never ad- mired him so much. The baronet paused, as though hesitating whether it was worth while to indulge himself in uttering insults; I am thank- ful to say he decided that it was not. It would have been pollution to Lucy Gerard's name to have heard it spoken by such lips. 'Well, well,' returned he, 'TI have nothing to say against the young woman, It is probable, however, you will allow, that some attachment may arise between herselfand my nephew. You grant that, do you? Ah, I thought so. In that case, Mr. Gerard would prefer the husband of his daughter to be free from all stain. Good! There are three persons then, at least, all inter- ested in my nephew's good name. Now, listen: you know something, parson, of the mode of life pursued by the Heaths from generation to gene- ration; you know something of the deeds that have been committed at Fairburn Hall. What is known, however, is honorable and harmless compared to what is not known; the vices which you have shuddered at are mere follies--the off- spring of idleness and high spirits, compared to those of which you have yet to hear.' It is impossible to imagine a more repulsive spectacle than this man presented, exulting not only in his own wickedness, but in that of his forefathers. He took from his pocket a, huge manuscript, and thus proceeded: 'The records of the House of Heath are red with blood, and black with crime. I hold them in my hand here, and they are very pretty reading. Ni ow, look you,] will leave them here for your perusal,parson --they have at least this attraction in them, that they are true--and when you have made your- self master of the contents, perhaps you can re- commend to me a publisher.' 'Tt is impossible,' cried my tutor, 'that you can do this dreadful wrong, at once to ancestors and descendant? Have you no mercy even for kith and kin? Do you dare to defy God and Man alike ?" 'I dare publish that pamphlet, unless I have money,' quoth Sir Massingberd scornfully, 'and' that is the sole question with which we need now concern ourselves. A pretty welcome young Sir Marmaduke will meet with when he comes into the country among all who know his family history. As for me, my character is one which is not likely to suffer from any disclosure,' « "Are all the murders done and attempted set down here, Sir Massingberd ?' inquired my tutor, taking up: the pamphlet. ©' The catalogue of crime is truly frightful; but you do not seem to have brought the narrative down to the most recent dates" sda et 'The most recent dates?' reiterated the baro- net mechanically. ,,° ' Yes, sir, responded my tutor; 'the history is evidantly incomplete. If it. should come out in its present form, it would need an appendix. I would scarcely recommend you to run the risk of another person publishing a continuation. You had better take it home, and reconsider the matter.' The baronet affected to receive this advice in earnest, andr tired, foiled and furious. He never more set foot in the Rectory, save twice; once ~ when he called upon me, and persuaded me to forward that hateful letter to Marmaduke, and again upon the occasion I am about to describe. The errand he then came upon was of small con- sequence, but the circumstance I shall never for- get. After-events have made it one of the most memorable in my life, for it was the last time-- save One--that I ever beheld Massingberd Heath, Little did I think what a mystery was then im- p nding--so frightful, so unexampled, that it now seems almost strange that it did not visibly overshadow that giant form, that ruthless face. If we could thus read the future of others, how. fearful would be many a meeting which is now conventional and commonplace! It is true that we should always part, both from friends and from "enemies, in some sort as though we were parting with them for the last time; but how different a leave-taking would it be, if we were indeed assured that they and we would meet no. more upon this side the grave! How I should have devoured that man with mine eyes, had T known that they would not again behold him-- save one awful Once--hefore we should both stand together in the presence of God! What terrors, what anxieties, what enigmas were about | to be brought to us and to others by the morrow's sun! Yet, at the time, with wha' little things we occupied ourselves! It was in the morning that Sir Massingberd paid his visit, in a morning of early November, when the first sharp frost had just set in. He came about money-matters, asusual, We were surprised to see him, because, as I have said, he had relapsed into his accus- tomed stern unsociable habits, and had seemed to have given up all attempts to gain any further- | ance of his plansfrom Mr. Long. He had called, he said, about a matter that affected the parson himself, or he would not have troubled him. CertainMethodists had offered him twenty pounds a year as the ground-rent of a chapel to be built upon the outskirts of the Park, and within view of the Rectory windows. For his part, he hated the Methodists ; and had no sort of wish to-of- fend Mr, Long by granting their prayer. Still, being grievously in want of money, he had come to say that if Mr. Clint could not be induced to give him some pecuniary help, that the chapel must be built. ¥ My tutor, who had a very orthodox abhorrence \_ of all dissent, and especially when it threatened his own parish, was exceedingly disturbed by this intelligence. \ 'What!' cried he ; 'you preach to your nephew doctrines of Conservatism, Sir Massingberd, and yet are induced, fora wretched bribe, to let a "nest of sectaries be built in the very avenue of your Park l' 'It is terrible indeed,' quoth the baronet drily ;_ 'but they might set it up opposite my front door for an extra five-pound note. I announce their' offer solely on your account. They call on me to-morrow for my final decision, and I cannot afford to say 'No.' Now, you can do what you please with Mr, Clint, and many surely represent to him that this is a case where twenty pounds may be well expended. The matter will thus be staved off for a year at least; and next year, ycu know, I may be in better circumstances-- or dead, which many persons would greatly prefer.' ' Certainly,' returned my tutor gravely, 'I will do my best with Mr, Clint ; butin the meantime, rather than let this chapel be built, I will ad-_ vance the money you mention at my own risk." I happen to have a considerable sum in the house at present, which I intended to lodge with the bank at Crittenden to-morrow. So you shall have the notes at once.' ' That is very fortunate,' said the baronet cool- ly; and Mr. Long counted them out into hig» hand--twenty ragged, dirty, evil-smelling one-- pound notes, for the imitation of the like of which half-a-dozen men were at that time often strung up in front of the Old Bailey together. From 82,961 to 82,980 the numbers ran, which, albeit, I am no great hand at recollecting such things, I shall remember from what followed as long.ag I live. I can see the grim Squire now as he rollg them tightly up, and places them in that hug lapelled waistcoat-pocket; as he slaps it'wit his mighty hand, as though he would defy the world to take them from him, however unlaw-_ fully acquired ; as he leaves the room with an insolent nod, and clangs across the iron road' with his nailed shoes. % : I watch him through the Rectory window, as, © ere he puts the key in his garden-door, he casts" a chance look-up at the sky. He looks to seo. what will happen on the morrow. Does he read nothing save Continuance of Fine and Frosty Weather? Nothing. All is blue and clear ags_ steel ; not a cloud to be seen the size of a man's hand from north to south, from east to west Theré is no warning to be read in the cold aha smiling heaven; no ' Mene, mene' for this worse than Belshazzar on its broad cerulean wall! (To be Continued.) : ce) influence of Smoke on Vegetation : In a paper read before the Royal Societ don, partly on the above subject Prof, ---- 4 states that he has had many opportunities of be-. coming practically conversant with the injurious. effects which a smoky atmosphere Pprodnces o cereal crops, and that he regards a Strong a position of soot on wheat and other corn crops. _ quite a sufficient evidence of the more or ' complete injuty which the crops must have he fered from the sulphurous acid always present in the air when such sooty deposits appear. ° plants. The difficulties of carrying on Aattecie tural pursuits in the potteries, or in districts where volumes of black smoke discharge eno " mous quantities of sulphurous acid into the ae when such sooty deposits are seen. on i The disadvantages of carrying on agricultur, i pursuits in the potteries, or in districts pe Bo volumes . of black smoke discharge enormo wor quantities of sulphurous acid intothe air?" ~ well known among the more intelligent i poe terprising farmers. The injury done to vegetaa tion by the smoke from copper wo traced beyond a distance oF Piaisadl a vir course it might be asserted that the mischi f was caused by the arsenical vapors ; but th latter are present in almost inappreciable small quantities, whilst as small an atmos heri centage of sulphurous acid as the 1,800,000n re injurous to vegetation in wet weather,' nm ae ih iti a pO ae tne