■!*!!——ii'Ptyi i mm'i hi.. ■■■■■■■ ■ GHAFTKR XIII -fCoWTiarao.l "Ob, If you would?" abe aald, tim idly. You have roueed my Intereat," aald Mr Ht. Cyril, "and her# we are at the R«-»f Houae. The aervice you have ren dered ua make# ua like old frlenda; coma In and let ua hear your atory." .-irated In the pallor. Ralph began: "I will not make it a long atory. It ran juat aa well be told briefly. And now tnet I rome to think of It, I greatly wondey that I ahould apeak of It at all. Jvrhape there may be a fate In It. Yrar’g'^go, there waa a ahlp wrecked In a areat atorm. off the harbor of Fort highly-drawn novels ahe had read, lie waa gloomy and atern enough for a hero. He had suffered much In hla short life, and had struggled hard with poverty, and hy hla own Indomitable perseverance bad worked hla way through college. Hla pride waa strong even aa Lord Hlltland’s, and bis cun ning craft unequaled. Far back for some generations hla ancestors bad be longed to the gypsy race, and perhaps to this fact he owed his dark complex ion, and hla great, passionate, black eyes. "HI* gloomy melancholy touched the sensitive heart of Keglna, and ah# be gan to be kind to him In various little way*. Hhe gave him books from the rare old library, she showed him choice engravings, she asked his assistance sometimes In her little flower garden, and by and by she learned to love him. I think he, also, In hla cold, rude fash ion, loved her, but he was too selfishly calculating ever to fee I a genuine pas sion. At one time he so wrought upon her Innocent heart with hfs pitiful story of wrong and desolation, and his ardent profession of love, that she gave him her promise to be hla when she became of age No sooner had he obtained thla promise than he began to persecute her. Ills calls for money were Incessant, and she. poor girl, waa obliged to supply them, or to be denounced to her father. It Is doubtful If the rascal would have risked going to f,ord Hiltland, but he held this terror up constantly before Re gina. And she, from loving him, grew to loathe him, "By some mean* unknown to me l^ord Hiltland discovered the situation of Mq. No living thin* came ashore from It but a little child a girl of six or »' t»n yeara. I waa standing close dcMriytfjr the water, and the waves cast her up at my feet. Hhe was uncon scious, but by proper treatment soon re covered her faculties, with the excep tion of her memory. That never re turned to her. We questioned her vastly with regard to her previous life. Hhe remembered nothing. Bven her oema.had flown from her. My mother decid' d to adopt her, and she called her Marina'* because she came to us out of the mm, I loved her from the moment the waves had cast her up to me, and w hen-shp waa of suitable age, I told her my love, and won from her the sweet con leaf Ion that it was returned. The marriage day wss set, the guests were all In waiting. The bridesmaids went up to her chamber to call the bride, and they found her sitting In her chair, stabbed to the heart.” A'hbarp spasm of pain stopped his ut tersJKJf, but he rallied directly and went on: "&rQ|mstances led to the discovery of tWliurderer, though bla motive we batwnffer known. He Ilea In the Jail a few rmla from here, under the sentence of death.” Cjtovleve bad listened to Mr. Tren bollvs narrative with strangely eager InHj^pat, and her brother seemed none the jess Intent. VYfyui Ralph paused, 8t. Cyril said: "WaStfihere no clew, no possible mark, by whhtb this child, this Marina, might have peep Identified by her friends If anyseurvlved?” “Tee. Upon the right arm, Just above the wfcpw, there was a small scarlet cros*. It might have been made there will! 'some Indelible substance, or It might have been a birthmark.” Miss fit. Cyril drew the sleeve away from her snowy arm, and held It out to Mr. Trenholme. And he saw, faintly glowing through the white skin, the very fac-elmlle of the cross that had marred the whiteness of Marina’s arm. He started back, pale and trembling. “What am I to think?” he said. "You are tbe same! It la my Marina come up from the grave, or am I dreaming?” "Neither,” said Miss 8t. Cyril. “We ■were twin sisters. I and your Marina.” tilings, and hla wrath was terrible. Rudolph was kicked from the house like a dog. and Regina Was sent to the continent under the care of a paternal aunt While In Parle, my mother first met Pierre Bt. Cyril, a young French naan of noble family and fascinating personal appearance. The beauty of Regina attracted him powerfully, and when he became acquainted with her, his admiration rapidly deepened Into love. There seemed, for once, no Im pediment to the marriage. They were of equal birth, both were possessed of a strict senso of honor, and both Were strikingly handsome. "Bt. Cyril's only fault—If fault II can be reckoned - was a severely stern sense of honor, that could not tolerate for a moment the semblance of deception. Although he had been brought up In the frivolous French capital, his heart was as pure as that of a little child. “My mother’s first error lay in the decision which she took by the advice of her aunt, not to make Bt. Cyril ac quainted with the episode touching John Rudolph. She, to do her justice, was anxious to speak of It to him, but her aunt, who was a fashionable, worldly woman, treated the Idea with contempt, and won from Regina a prom ise never to mention the affair to her lover. The ambitious woman knew 'something of Bt. Cyril’s sensitive tem ! perament, and feared that he might ob ! Ject to taking one whom he knew had at some time fancied she loved another. “They were married, and Bt. Cyril took his wife to his chateau near Au vergne. They were very happy. Bt. Cyril was the most devoted of hus bands; they had abundance of wealth, and there seemed to be nothing wanting lie looked at her In silent amazement. Mr St. Cyril spoke: *T think Oenle la right. It Is all so strange. Our search Is ended, then! But how different from wliat I had hope#! 'We know her fate; hut she Is dead gone from ua beyond recall.” li# bowed hla head upon the tftble while Oenle laid her arm over his neck "Biother. we are left to each other And the fault was none of ours." "True, l.have much to be thankful for. Mr. Trenholute, you are wonder In* over much that you do not under stand My slater and myself came to thla country, not on a pleasure trip. I)ltt in obedience to a sacred promise given to the dying If you have time to spare I will make you acquainted with the edddeet part of our family history J wlU tell you why Kvangellne St. Cyril wsapn the ship which waa wrecked " "Thank you.” reapunded tta'ph ”1 nn> nil attention. I have longed all my life that the mystery might be solved .Would to Uod that she could have lived to see this day!” CIIACTKH XIV. I Ol! must know," began Mi IN "that tuy mother • as the second daughter at lawd Charles Mill laud an Knglisbmau o: targe eatatee and unbounded pride She was puseesen of uaromiHoi , — boauty and earl; |a life dev* oped lentenkatde powers » fast mat ••• She sa* educated will grant care and no pain* wete spared i< Utah* her as «rt omplished w she *a> lovely Mil had two staler* anil om< hrothei Wh>' Hegtn* for that waa m: giothet * name a as about atateog, I her same to Mdilaud Manor a young mai gamed Iom» Nudotph lie ram# a» i IWt of tut. tu an orphan nephew a I ,ud Mil tin* i * whom he had adopt*, late the tnwit. Hudniph was Juei lb ggyt of • perse., to attract the fancy o g reman n ptMisg girl nhoon ogl gtimpoo of *tfo bn I kwi through th IU ' umjtirir i ii* ii I UI1U-III, At dig* CQU of two year* I Wa* there. I think It wit* about thl* time that my mother’# real trouble began. Rudolph nought her I out. Hy nome mean# he hail managed i to uncertain that Mr. St. Cyril had been kept lu Ignorance of their old low af fair. and rightly judging that my mother would aacrittee much before ahe would now have It revealed, he came to her, and threatened her with expo aura, If she did not at once deliver uvei to him u certain mini of money. My I mother wa* terribly frightened, and ahe gave Rudolph all the ready money *h* | poaneaaed Kor a while lie left her iu | peace hut not for long The dlaai 1 pated life lie led demanded large *um* I of money, and he wa* too Indolent to work, when It could lie obtained lu any way Ilia calla upon my mother be came very frequent She did Iter lieat to aatlafy them She Mild all her Jew el# an anger, vuwiag »*n i gean< a VImui ihie tin** twin* were born te I i my pnient* two gtrie They were i named Rvangeitn* and tlenevteve, and i upon the itwt of each of them there i eaa a faint amulet < roea o hlnh mark i i When the#* children w#r« fuut month* eld, the nurae took them out fair their airing one day In a luce nirtai* and i while ehe left them a moment to apeoh i to • friend Ktangellno wwe etolen front k the atde of he* atater The lerrlSed I nurae horn nothing beyond Ike foci t 11 hat alia hod left thorn far a moment h» * the aide of e toon a>u In the public gar I dene * ad on returning to take thew > away, had found onlr tlenevto** r * heaagaltna *«• gone' "My mother was distracted! The shock threw her Into a fever, and In her delirious ravings my father learned ths whole story. Nothing watt kept back. He knew that she had loved Rudolph— that she had deceived him every day since their marriage, and that tbla mi scrupulous ntan had visited her several times since their residence at Auvsrgne. He was a proud ami painfully sensitive man, and his whole soul whs outraged. He fancied himself the most bitterly wronged of all the human race. He grew cruel and retentions toward the woman he had so loved. When at lust she returned to consciousness, tdie found herself deserted by her husband. He had gone to the east, he said In a brief epistle which he left behind him; he knew everything. He never wished to !ook upon her face again. He had left ample provision for her, and begged her to bring up her children In the path* of virtue and honor. "This was a terrible blow to my mother, but her affection for her chil dren, and the care she was obliged to bestow on them, kept her up. She made evsry effort In her power to as certain the fate of her lost Kvangellne, but vainly. She never heard from or saw John Rudolph for ten years, She wrote to her husband, putting aside all her pride for her child’s sake wrote to entreat him to try and find the lost girl; but If the letter ever reached him he gave It no heed It was never replied to. Tka*. .k. enHiltail in lvee rallies!* In It'll it land. But he was a stern old men. and 1 he fancied his pride Injurled and his | house dishonored by the fact that his ; daughter had been deserted by her hus band, and be refused to take any step In the matter. Ho my poor mother was ; left desolate Nothing. I think, but her strong love for flenle and myself kept I her sllve. "Ten years after Kva was stolen, lute j one evening there came to our house a i tall, dark man, whom I now know was \ John Rudolph. He was closeted a long { time with my mother, and when she came out her face was paler thut It* wont, and her eyea were red with weep ing. Then 1 did not know wherefore, but now I know that he had come to tell her that Kva still lived; that she was In America, and that If she would raise him a certain sum he would reveal the child's exact whereabout*. This condi tion she could not comply with, and be left her In a rage. "1 think the constant worry about this missing child wore out my mother's life. Her days were shortened by It. Two year* ago she received a letter from my father. He waa lying on bis death-bed, In an obscure Russian vil lage. He confessed how much be bad wronged her. expresaed a sincere re pentance. and begged her to come to him. He longed so Inexpressibly for a sight of her face. Hbe was not really able to undertake the journey, but could not be dissuaded from attempting It. I went with her. We found my father just on the borders of the mystic river, but waiting to see her ere he crossed over. "It was a solemn scene. He lay on a great bed, heavily curtained, In a lofty room, gloomy with shadows; bis face as white us marble, but for the hectic flushes In his cheek*. His great, eager eyes were fastened upon the door by which we entered he was watching for her to come. He started up at the sound of her footstep, and extended his feeble arms. •• ‘O Regina! O Regina!’ he cried, pltl fiily, 'you have come at laat!’ "She went forward, and lifted his head to her bosom, and put her face against bis. She did not weep, but shook like an aspen, and grew so very white that I feared It would be too much for her. " ‘Will you forgive me?" he cried. 'O, I have wronsed you so deenly! If you had only told me all that at the very find!’ " 'I know, Pierre, I sinned then; but they persuaded me It would be best. And afterward, I feared to lose your love. We have bath erred: let us mu tually forgive.’ to ns roTTimtu > HIS WIFE WAS BALKY. U liru Nils Wm Mill lira lo a Plow Mi* to I’ull. A young man with a long, worn out Prime Albert coat and a pair of pur ple pants tm ked Into his lioots that were incased in mini, walked Into ven tral station this morning says the Mmtavllle Post, and aaked “Are thar 'ary reporter here’" “Yes," answered f'aptaln Itaslef. "Hit re’s about four here " “Well, I’m the feller what Imughl a wife for 17 laet week, and she wouldn't work.'1 replied tliu l(ui>et “and I got er •llvorve to get Theae here papers have j writ me up wrong, an' I want er her rewttM" "All right. " repllevl Ihe Post report- i erf “I'll make you a vorevtlon la’t'a , have your statement." "Now, you write It down Just 4* | ] •ay It," replied the louutryman Ills •tatemest wae aa follows' "The halky wile the wife of Juhltnl# Huawder. the daughter of A J t’blldere has sued for s divorce tier father 1 cvesisirittlwt her as a |tssl war her • hen I I tough t her, end when I hits bed her tn the plow she felled to pull and balked lies father rum* over • here we wsa at and offered ht> mule but I object'd, aa the mule looked Isis f thought I would trv her c little longer, hut she ...II failed I offered In tabs ihe old sms • wife as sh* was ths j best trained The old woman i* d vents eld You i could nut espeai my wile <0 work ns good as S woman With seventeen yearn training The old man would am trade 1 *a I mada him lake kl* girl ba> k VY •» i parted good friends and I will take her bark trained In n few necks end per double price fur her The eld meg's piece us the threaten street pthn te good I and ks kss ihirtv nine acres “ | ANCIENT RACE OF INDIAN S /mil In not the liUMeeanlble plm’e it wan wlii'ii Frank Fuelling tlrnt wrote of It. It lien forty miles noutli of tinl lup. a miiihII town on the Santa Fe route~fln eaay day’* drive. The rofld rlnen nlendlly for I lie tlrnt i tirteeii mlli'M and leaven behind it dry lillln mid I Mirren noil with the lower altitude*. At an elevation of alnnit K.inm feet the trail on tern upon i nil peril region of pine forent, gloiioun In Augunt. with wild antern. nimtlow<*rn. grain Ilia gram and wild oatn. Tile i I'll I tin had been nhuudnut. and the whole phileiiu wan dellHoitnly green mid fragratii. At iiIhiiiI I o'clock We begun to ry alsive another, the roof of one serving as the dooryurd of the one above, etc. There are a little plaza and a ruined church near It. and a minute grave yard where the people are hurled so thickly every burial ezhumes half a dozen others. The men lie all on oue side, the women on the other. Ulie ■■urioUM dev elopmellt, w hich I (ttd 1101 see at the other pueblos, was tiie plat of liny gardens south of the building* Knelt little garden was surrounded by a mud wall, aud was laid out In little aipinre beds a foot or two In diameter, each 1**1 with a liny dike around it These gardens of on ton*, chile Slid lieaus, were watered by the women who carried water IMfk UMM I fi»«M i In rim •>« *»*«*»* »»•<••>* tu irMi )«.» | In i» »rr» »k*M*' MkMk MMMI MW Wll mm hfikur • ilMH* l« full «t* l*< .|"»U I Wi n< KM liHikMiWi* |i' |4i' *»M th- imiWr of .«»*irw ikri «I*m« i.» ■ ,4.1 immMm rM mm I tank >«n*l *«■! *»«♦** IM Hklil IM llll»*M>«» lll*rv Ik I gt.1‘1 ml ut.. Ill \H»fliM t l‘»*U IV. 1*411 M ltW< Ikklulrl* MMlI MMM>*t*l**MkK» »*t • % UHffl Ok **>• H* • * '«»< ’ Mr.Graham speaks their language fluently and knows them Intimately. He wan here liefoie Cushing. A» the dusk fell upon the green uml yellow plaza and the turkey* gobbled ulsmt us. he told us many things of the |h*o ple and their way*. "They are aun-worshiper*," he said. "Sometimes 1 see them ns they come out to Hprliikle meat at sunrise. They como and pray to the water at night and si ntier meat upon If. They an* a curious people no doubt of that. See that little heap of stones Just beyond my barn? That was put there to mark the renter of ilu* world." "That's primitive enough. I'm sure.” “Ob. I don't know There nre a hundred town* that think they are the renter of tin* earth. The psychology of the Zunl Isn’t so widely different from that of some theologians." The doctor asked: "Are they In creasing In number*'/" I 1,111IIK MM'* iri/ niww./, ] tllOllgll." •'I* there nun'll aleknes* among theu»r’ "Not nmi'li, Ii'mm ilinn you would ex |ieel, I,ink of fond a lid tied ventlln tIon nre their chief enemies. They're pretty good doctor*; they keep pretty clone to the ln»t rock Ifliil herb treat incut. I think, lu spite of nil, they hold I heir own." TlnViext niornliig, a* wc atarted to wn rd I lie village, we met a bright looking mini of middle age. who greet ed ua in a »ort of Kiigllsh. We fell Into talk with him and found him lo tie qulek-wltted and courteoua. lie j became our guide lu our round of the village, "Where are you from?" lie nuked. a» we walked toward the bridge. "Washington," we replied, because, to an Indian, any place lu the Kind la Washington "Mis' tttlm'aon, you know her?” he , asked. "Htlinpaon? No. I'm afraid not," aald the tloctor. "Mis’ Hlra’aou, she my flletid. Hhe live my house. Hhe aetid roe letter." "He mean* mean* Mr*. Htevenaon, who write* on Pueblo matters," *ald the doctor. “Yea, we know of Mr*. Bteveu*on." "Hhe good woman. Hhe my flletid. | Hhe know Cushing. You know Cush ing? He come, dig, Hud much bat tery.” I’p lo the village we found a few | people stirring, but mulnly the houses were closed. Dick took u* Into hi* own house llrst, a nicely whitewashed room, with some American furniture. , "Take chair,” Pick Insisted, and would not let the doctor sit on a Ini*. He won proud of Ills chairs Pick's little children were bright lit- j tie scamps, with consldernble Zunl soil on them good, wholesome dirt, however. Pick took us back through small doors Into Inner rooms, store rooms, dimly lighted ,uml showed us old, old treasures. An old war club, of which he said: “Ixmg time ago Navajo him bad; him fight Zunl. Kb war chief he make urn club. Mcbhe so bit Navajo.” He handed us the club to look at. “No use ’em uny more. Navajo no fight Zunl any more. Alle same trade.” There were also the ceremonial dresses which the men ami women use In their fiances, and old hunting fe tiches and old bowls. "Too old,” Dick called them when be showed them to us, meaning, of course, very old. Cu rious places, these store houses, full •V A Kuril Mother. of thing* which epitomized an Im mense iieriod of their live*. When we Haw ho few men lu the vil lage we naid: “Dick, why aren’t you out farming?" He laughed. "Me no farm. Me ail time make bmdH." He watt an artlHan. not a common baud. ‘Tx*t me nee you make l>ead*.” He took um hack Into the main living room, and there he htUi out a bos of ahellH, a little bag of tunpintie, a Ihix of little disks > hipped out of sheila, aud a drill of his own fashioning He chipped a dink with IiIh pinchers. Then with the ctirlouK nnd very well work tug drill he laired a hole lu the dink. He vyhh very adroit uml proud of hla trade. "Navajo like ’uiu; trade blanket*, pay »lu airing." We went Into other buuaea, for when \ It wa* known that we were buying I (lottery and that we Itml candy f-edar irwc. Me- aal by the op. it ilwr and heM her head In the aireauiiug glory of un*rti lag auuahiiie nbe had hut one gar meat. and her >kinuy arum ami leg* looked barely Uomaii I U>ushi a la.wi wihicb «at heaide liar ami tml tin- money mio her hand and the tin* tor gave her a**me . audy She lifted her head aa though this Munsoal khotneaa »it given lot new life, and (veered at u* a* If ahe would i■«* had proltaMy »*v id are neglected Ah, but they are poor. A« we went through their home*. buying a Uttla pottery, we saw nil their poor, pathet ic possession*. Their bowls and blank ets, their extra robes, their one or two battered chairs, the copper lithograph* on the walls, the children robed in old salt sacks—and yet men plan to rob them! Men want' to take their land, to grow fat off their trnde. No won der the white men are wolves to them. I .a st year they had no crop. They were forced to eat their faithful bur ros, their dogs. They were forced to sell everything that men would pay S cents for. and they sat In their cheer less houses and endured hunger and cold with the patience of martyrs. And the white people sat by and saw It and did little. One tnnn-everlasting shame to him gave an old man copper cents for necklaces and told him they would buy a Iwg of flour. Hueh ara the talcs they tell of greed. This year they have a good crop and f— A Caal Doorstep. so they are smiling. I should like to have seen them when they came to gether for their harvest home danee and festival. As we eame to say good-by to Dick I said: i “Dick, I’ll send you some shells wfcffh I get back. Mebbe so ten days and ten days. Melds* so one month." "Good,” said Dick. "Me need much shells. Make 'em beads. Hdl 'em Navajo*." “All right, I’ll send some.” "One time," began Dick, Impiesslva ly, “man say me send ’em shell*. Ms go home, me send ’em shells." A pause. "He liar. Ho no send ’em shell*.’’ There waa uo misunderstanding thl* broad bint, and I Joined the doctor In the la ugh. ••Well, Dick, you see, I am no liar.” I understood the other man’s case. Home one had said on the Impulse: “I'll send you some shells, Dick,” and then bad forgotten it In the complexity of his city life. Hut there Is no com plexlty In Dick’s life and be yemem her* every word the white man speaks. I sent those shells, and I would hav# done It at any cost. 1 could not bavs Dick's An-tennlhi think me a H»r. A man should keep his lightest promise with an Indian. Looking back on Zunl. I saw once more how It secretes Itself on the plain. It lay behind us there, a low, red hill In the midst of the wide, sun filled valley. Around It purple sand# lay, and a slow river crawled by It Par away on all sides, great mesas towered a thousand reet a wove iuf valley door. As we rose we came again to radiant vistas of sunflowers, whlrb ran to v great scooped and car veil walls of sandstone. 1'lne trees lasgau again, aud grass and flowers, a beautiful wilderness. We spent the night in the camp of a trader alaiut twelve mill* from Zunl. We were awake at the dawn, and saw the sun blaze Into sudden splendor In the heavens. All through the cold, white half-light a coyote cried, utter ing a liquid, whistling wall, so sweet aud wild It made that dawn forever memorable to me. A young Flu cooked our breakfast, a Siuni helped him, a Navajo horseman wnlted outside. Columbia college was represented In the doctor, who was studying the ancient photographs on the rocks, and I—I listened In ecstacy to the mystic, shrill wail of the coyote and watched the sun flare up the sky, and thought of this wonderful routing together of men In the hush.—Hamlin Uarlaud. In Detroit Free Press. A Wav »• Itaklag the ‘■fleereher’’ et Some Use Among recent developments to which the widespread use of the bicycle has led Is a machine for enabling the cy clist to train or rake his exerelae In doors In laid weather. The rider sits on ilie saddle nnd works the pedals in the usual way, and while the wheels revolve, their force Is expanded on tlie turning of on endless ls*ll, and Ihe < bicycle never moves from the spot. It lias occurred to a French electrlctnu that some useful work can tie done at the sam* time He has ucmrdPtgly designed ait apparatus In whlcte the driving wheel of a safety bicycle of the usual type Is raised froth the floor, and. h.v means of a strap aud speed gearing, made to drive a small dyna mo. which i» sed to charge areumu lators. tills Idea of turning exercise into a useful pnslucl outside of Its own s|s‘ctal |sir|HMe Is capable of W m I >i I t. Ill lilies tlldlttiuut (kf It will ho raadlly nnut’inU-ml, Nauaau. lu tlttln* out tho Kraiu for hla mall AiMk' aspmlitloii, bad a oupaiau plat mI on lin k, iba abaft of whbb waa oiiiiim'ImI by *o*rtuu with the ahlpa tl>irnuio TV nbjM’1 of ihta waa that lu tho but* dark wluior of iba polar rwftoka, lit* tr.-w ahooUi ttalyy lakr lb* *»tr«ia* uwtlol fur I ton I lb, b) tlolu* ibolr ahlft al Iba oa|ait*u, ami al tha aauta lliua *«ltorato Iba ala<> irlvll* Itniiail for IlabllitK lb« abl|t la aoutr Ku* I lab pnaoua, wbara Iba •■Marat ilwltwi from Iba wwkiai of Iba lliwdlulH by thaivurlota Itla atlb atlu I watt InauRli b>ully uhlamt. It la MOW |tro|«.#od lit luru It ta Iba tfawara ll«u of t ie* tft.lt) fur Iba IwtiUllHaa, makiu* iba prtauw tadua lrt*« iitor* ramimarailta, aud gl«bi« Iba IM toMifia » iralulit* wbi.'u ill; amt bio i bom lu II) a hoimwtly Wttau Iba) ara dl*. hurtful kuddy Whal a Mb.w tVava* tat Haally. I dott‘1 ballaya ba kuawa fcl* ofH mlml ^k Itltddy Watt, do*'i rum thtuh ka it I la ba Mummlwtaiad) fcurh a mlmt a* ] ba baa .aum.' It* a *#ry dttf* a hla at .inalatam* tt-.ai m T«*tta>mo i i