Decatur Eagle, Volume 1, Number 3, Decatur, Adams County, 27 February 1857 — Page 1

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VOL. 1.

THE DECATUR EAGLE. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING. Office, on Main Street, in the old School House, one Square North o f J. & P Crabs’ Store. Terms of Subscription t Forone yoar,sl 50, in advance; $1 75, w ithin r six months; $2 00, after the year has expired. ILF No paper will be discontinued until all arrerages are paid, except at the option of tlie Publisher. Terms of Advertising: One Square, three insertions, 00 Each subsequent insertion, ffJ-Ne advertisement will be considered less than one square; ever one square will be counted and charged as two; over two as three, etc. JOB PRINTING. We are prepared to do all kinds of JOB WORK, in a neat and workmanlike manner, on the most reasonable terms. Our material for the completion of Job-work, being new and ot the latest styles, we are confident that satisfaction can be given. Law of Newspapers. 1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subscriptions. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance ot their papers, the publisher may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid. 3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their papers from the office they are held responsible till they have settled the bill and ordered the paper discontinued. 4. If subscribers remove to other places with oiit informing the publisher, and the paper is still sent, to the former direction, they are held responsible. ItZThe Court have decided that refusing to take a paper from the office, or removed and leaving it uncalled for is i’Bima facie evidence of intentional fraud. SMOKING AND DANCING. A man may puff his life away Upon a vile cigar; May chew the vile tobacco weed, Yet be n shining star; A chosen one whose ample head Has felt a brother’s touch Compared with whom in wisdom’s way, A layman is not much. But if a girl should spend an hour In whirling in the dance, Her star is set for ever more. She is sentenced in advance. They wait not till the judgment day. These more than learned divines; While hugging their tobacco box, They sweep away their shrines, They bow down to their idol weed, Pho dreams her dancing dream, The mote is in her brother’s eye, The sisters has the beam. Scmelayinan with a curious mind, Though filled with little light, May see no inconsistency, And pick out wrongs from right To such the dreadful sentence passed By learn’d an t gracious seers, Upon a sprightly jumping girl, Injustice ranks appears: And one there is will yet defend And take the dancer’s part, Whose only sin is to show out The feeling of the heart. He will maintain, the graver bands Will look on him askance. The Scriptures in no way proclaim, It is a sin to dance; But all who glance upon their page, These golden letters see— That mercy I to others show. Show others unto me. The Scrip ures have no single word The smoker can advance. , While they contain the cheering fact. There is a time to dance, The incense from a vile cigar Must reach some idol throne; How keea our eyes to others faults How blinded to our own! Thrilling Aitventnre of a Boy. A lad named Tracy, forteen years of age, on Saturday forenoon last, was passing through Colt’s Meadows carrying the dinner of one of the workmen of the armory, anil was passing along where the snow was about a foot deep, when he suddenly found himself going down, down down: he knew not where; but to use his own expression, he thought he was a ‘going to heaven or the other place, sure.’— When he struck bottom be found himself in five feet of water, at the bottom of a forty foot well, with a smooth brick wall ail the way up. Fortunately, in com-I ing to the surface of the water, he found a stout plank, upon which he supported himself for a half hour, calling for help, but no help came. Getting desperate the boy out with his knife, and while holding on with one hand to the plank, cut oil his boots, tore off his coat and vest, and then bracing his back against the wall, and his feet on the other side, he commenced working his way up the wall by inches. After strug gling in this way for half an hour, he succeeded in reaching daylight, completely exhausted, but thankful to escape with his life. His escape from death was remarkable, under the circumstances.— Hartford Corant.

THE ELOPEMENT; 08, Parental Authority Versus Love. BY SYLVANUS COBB, JR. Jacob Von Dump and his wife sat toI gether in one of the private rooms of their j superb mansion. The former was a man ! not far from fifty years of age, short and I bulky in person, with a proper Falstaffian i look and bearing and though he could ap- ■ pear very savage at times, yet it went sorely against Iris grain to be anything else but jolly and good natured. Mrs. Von Dump always did just as her husband did. She was a reflection of her lord and master. She believed Jacob to be j the prince ofjudgment and knowledge and I she felt sure that in no way could she so plainly prove her judgment as-by following his example. ‘Look ye, Cornelia,’ said the old man, assuming a dignified air ‘doyou think that popinjay of a chap has anything to say to our Julia now?’ I ‘I fear he does,’ replied the dame. I ‘lie does, ch?’ He does? —Aha—we’ll see!’ i As Jacob thus spoke he reached forth ! his arm and pulled the bell-cord that hur.g near him. A servant girl answered the summons, and the host bade her send Julia to him. In a few minutes Julia came. She was i a pretty girl—a plump, golden-haired, ' hazel-eyed, laughter-loving maiden, with j lovely dimples in her cheeks and chin, and with smiles almost always creeping about her rosy lips, and sparkling eyes. She was just such a girl as one falls in i love with at first sight, and whose merry laughter and genial smiles are contagious. •Julia,’pronounced her father, in atone which he meant should be very severe, ‘I want you to answer me truly. Have you seen that young rascal—that Fredrick Hosmer—lately?’ ‘I saw him last evening, sir,’ the maiden replied, ‘.Eh?—you did—last evening? And after 1 had forbiden it! What did you mean by it?’ ‘But how could I help it, father? He CH.IIIC Wlie re 1 wblm I had to him.* ‘You did eh? Suppose a robber had come to see you, would you have felt obliged to remain and look at him?’ ‘But Fredric is not a robber, father.’ ‘He is! He is a robber! He means to rob me of my child! But he won’t do it! j Mind—l say, he won't do it! Now look I ye: You know vour hand is promised to • another. You know lam under a sacred obligation to bestow you hand upon Stimpson noble boy.’ ‘How do you know he’s noble, father?’ ‘How do 1 know? Why, his father, before he died, assured me that he was a I noble fellow; and then only last week I [ got a letter from his tutor in Cambridge, and he assured me that young Stimpson j was a pattern youth. He is one of the ; finest fellows living.’ ‘And yet I can never love him—never.’ I ‘But you shall love him! D’ye under-] stand that? I say you shall love him! — |He shall be your husband. Now don’t ye | never speak with Fredric Hosmer again! Will you promise me that?’ ‘I cannot promise,—Oh! I cannot. I love him very tenderly, and I cannot take a promise which would only make me miserable.’ ‘Bah! Stuff! Nonsense! Do you know how foolishly you are acting? Don’t you know that Stimpson was your playmate when you were a little girl?—and don’t you know how he loved you, and tried to make you happv? And then just mind I how much I owed to his father. What ’ should I have been if I’d never known old Stimpson? Instead of being worth two hundred thousand dollars 1 shouldn’t have been worth a penny. He took me into business, and opened the way to me. And now I am not going to have the promise I made him on his dying bed broken Mind that!’ ‘But he lias said he would not marry with me,’ said Julia, rather poutingly.— ‘You know he has said so.’ ‘I know it, but what of that? He shall do it, or I’ll have him hung! I know he said so, I know he means to marry some body else; but mark me, I’ll shoot him if ! he don’t!’ ‘I can’t!—l can’t! O! O ! 01’ ‘But you shall, I say! Now promise me that you won’t speak to this Hosmer again. Promise!’ ‘No, no, father—l cannot.’ ‘You can’t eh? Now mark me again: If you don’t give me the promise I’ll shut yc up in your chamber —I’ll lock ye up there, and keep ye on bread and water till ye come around! i’ll do it, I swear 1 will! Now will ye promise?’ Julia began to be frightened; but still i she was firm. She would not give the promise. ‘Then away you go!’ uttered Jacob.—! j By the Host, we'll see who’s master here! ! Cornelia, take her other arm. Come.’ ! Thus speaking the old man took Julia iby one arm, while her moiher took the

"Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim—Willing to Praise and not afraid to Blame.”

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, FEB. 27,1857.

! other, and in this way they took her to her chamber, which was on the second | floor She was sent into the room; but be- ! fore the door was closed her father asked ! her once more if she would promise. I ‘‘Remember,’ he added, ‘nothing but ! bread and water until you do!’ ‘Never!’ returned Julia, whose spirit was up. ‘I won’t throw away my whole I future happiness.’ ■ ‘Very well. The maid will bring you a crust of bread and a dipper of cold *),> ■er twice a day. ■ 1 hope you’ll come to j yourself before long ’ I On the next momer t the door was closed and the bolt of the lock thrown into its socket. Duringthe long hours between that and midnight, the poor girl sat upon her bed . and moaned, and wept, and soliloquised by turns. She was very indignant at the i treatment imposed upon her, and she al- ! lowed her heart to be very bitter against j her father. Yet she had one source of consolation. Her lover had promised to see 1 her that night. Midnight at length came, and with it i came Fredric Hosmer. He was a noble : looking young fellow, not over two-or- | three-and-twenty, tall and handsomely termed, with dark curly hair, and features jof more than ordinary fairness. In fact he was just such a man as Julia would be most likely to love fervently and truly.— lie came to the little arbor, just beneath the maiden’s window, and whistled. Julia answered the signal, and the youth made his appearance. In a low tone the fair girl told him all that had happened. ‘What?’ cried Fredric, in tones of indignant surprise, ‘keep you shut up on j bread and water? Oh! come to meat once! Flee from such a base imprisonment! Come—l can find a priest at once. Oh! come to my arms, loved one —come and be happy.’ At first Julia hesitated, but at length she began to waver. The youth poured out his love anew—painted the joys to i come, and swore he should die if he had ,to go away alone. The maiden could not ! withstand such strong appeals. Ere long two coverlids were knotted together, and • having stLuicd unv ' stool, she threw the other end out, and thus made her way to the ground. Oh! what bliss was that! For some minutes the lovers remained fixed in each other’s embrace; and all the sorrows of the past were forgotten. ‘Come,’ the youth whispered; ‘we will t away at once. I must have the right to ' protect you now. You will not hesitate?’ How could she? She had gone too far I for that already. ‘You will always love me?’ she murmured. ‘Always. Oh! I would die ere harm should oorae to thee.’ ‘And you will be true?’ •Yes—always.’ And Julia consented to go away with her lover. A carriage was in waiting at l a short distance off, and when they reachjed it they entered, and Fredric at once drove towards a neighboring village. A 1 poor clergyman was aroused from hisslumj bers, and in consideration of two broad pieces of gold, he tied the nuptial knot.— Julia was a Von Dump no longer; and no more could a Von Dump shut her up on bread and water. A short time was spent at the humble cot of the poor clergyman, and then the newly married couple started back. ‘Who is that?’ asked Julia, pointing! quickly to a dusky figure which she saw ■ turning the corner t>f the house. ‘Don’t you think there was a horse be- i hind us all the way coming?’ the wife , asked. ‘Why—yes.—l did think I heard one,’ I returned the bride-groom. But I kept it I to myself for fear of frightening you.’ ‘And suppose— * ‘Pooh! Don’t let us suppose anything, cried the happy husband, clasping the fair being once more to his bosom. ‘Let it be who it may, they can do nothing to harm us. We are man and wife.’ Julia returned her husband’s kiss, and] shoitly afterwards they were dashing off' towards the town they had left. The sun war, just rising as they reached the vil-j lage; and driving at once to the hotel, Fredric ordered his horse put up, and ! some breakfast prepared. They were conducted to one of the private parlors where they sat down and talked over their affairs. ‘But tell me,’said Julia, ‘what made the minister pronounce your name so funnily?’ ‘How funnily?’ returned Fredric, somewhat uneasily. ‘Why he seemed to stick and stammer! at your last name. He said Hosmer plain-1 Ty enough; but then he seemed to correct! himself as though he had made a mis- [ take.’ The young man hesitated awhile, but I finally he said, — •Ah, Julia, I fear you will be very an-, gry when you know the truth. Fredric Hosmer is only my Christian name! The,

5 clergyman called you Mrs. Fredric Hos- [ mer Stimpson!’ ‘What!’ gasped the wife, in a startled I. tone. ‘Padon me,’ quickly cried the youth, t grasping both her hands. ‘I knew" your lather was prejudiced against me.’ t ‘Prejudiced?—My father?’ a I ‘Or he would not have ferbidden me to I ever think of you more.’ 11 ‘Forbidden you?— ’ But before Julia could finish her sen3 : tenoe a heavy footfall was hoard in the hall, and a gruff, well known voice said I—‘Get1 —‘Get out, you rascal! They are my s children! Away with you! Breakfast didyGlisay? No such thing! They won’t 1 eat breakfast here! Mind that!’ 1 ‘lt’s father!’ 1 And so it was; for on the next moment a the door was thrown open, and the huge . rotundity of Jacob Von Dump rolled into t the room. Yet his face did not look sav- - age. No it rather seemed convulsed with ' internal laughter. ‘No, no, no,’ he uttered, after he had t gazed upon the runaway pair. ‘So you’ve >; been and done it, eh? You’ve got hitched -in spite of your prejudices. Why, my i little Julia, I thought you wouldn’t have s Stimpson at any rate.’ t The two young people looked first at 3 the old man, and then at each other. ‘Stimpson,’ whispered the wife gazing i into her husband’s face. ‘And are you - really the one to whom I have so long i been affianced?’ ‘Aye,’ cried the old man. ‘But look 1 ye—Let me explain: When my old friend I died I know he died happier because he -; felt sure you two would be man and wife, i He wanted his only son to have my littie t daughter for a wife. Well—first, I be- - gan to see that Miss Julia didn’t like the . idea of being given away in that fashion. » Next I heard that Master Stimpson had sworn that he wouldn’t have a wife of i somebody else’s choice. So thinks I, 1 they’ll get all warped and beclouded with ) prejudice, and the old plan ’ll be knocked 1 in the head. I pondered on it and finalt, ly hit upon a plan. 1 knew you were r both young and full of spirit, and I gues- ; sed you wouldn’t stand much ordering. ! jnef oif'C r»nd va-witoa cb lottor 1 to Mr Stimpson informing him that he can’t have my darter. 1 told him that I j had highet aims for her—that I couldn’t i think of having her marry with such a f poor, good-for-nothing scape-grace. I just wound off' by telling him I'd see him 1 dead and buried before I’d see my darter > his wife. ’ ‘But this wasn’t all. I got a friend to r put the finishing touch on. Old Jones who was one of your father’s best friends, - agreed to help me. So we just sits down and puts on the clincher by telling Master i Stimpson that old Von Dump had made bis brags that he wouldn’t have Julia for a wife. Then the old chap tucked in a little addition byway of telling what a 1' beauty the gal was, and advising the .! youngster, if he did come to throw off his • ; last name. Ho, ho, ho. Did’t I know i how ’twould work? Didn’t I know the young rascal’s blood? Didn’t I know how my darter’d take to locked doors and . and bread and water? Didn’t 1 know how • she’d relish being kept away from the > man she loved? Ho, ho, ho.’ I Fredric afterwards confessed that he : should never have come to see Julia but for the haughty command which the old I man sent him to keep away. He had j brooded over the idea of marrying with j I her so long in the light of a destin} which j he could not escape, that his soul rejected [the alliance. He had not seen her for i ten years, so of course he had no directl [ love for her. | And Julia was placed in the same pos-1 1 sition. She felt averse to being bartered ' i away as a mere pledge, and she didn’t 1 mean to have it so. She knew nothing i about Freilrir.’s having a middle name, so she was the more easily deceived. But they were not at ail angry with [ the old man for what he had done — They saw that they had gained a mutual I blessing—that they had been led into a path where the flowers of joy and happi-! I ness grew richly and luxuriantly, and into which they would not have come but i for the little deception which had been practised upon them. The whole thing furnished not only blessings and joys for all concerned, but it furnished Jacob Von Dump with a source of laughter that could not be exhausted.' He had only to call to mind those two coverlids at the Window; the escape of Ju-! lia from her prison; and the midnight drive for the old clergyman’s, and he could laugh until his great round belly seemed ready to shake to pieces. j •Gen. Washington Getting a Curtatn ILectcre.—Mrs. Kirkland* in her late [ ‘Life of Washington,’ says that a guest at ■ Mount. Vernon, lyirg-n.. ake one night, heard Mrs. W. deliver a very animated rebuke to her husband—dn fact, she seclded , him severely. Gen. W. listened to all in profound silence; then with a sigh, gaily i said—‘Now good night to you, my dear.’

- ! Virtue And Austerity. ‘lf good people,’ says a recent writer, 11 ‘would but make goodness agreeable, and instead of frowning in their virtue, how ~ many would they win to the good cause! 1 r: There is a vast deal of wisdom in the above sentence, very selfevident to most people, i butpreversely disregarded by a large class j of the community. It will be discovered (some of these days, that people can’t be i made virtuous by austere condemnation -' of harmless pleasure, and that the way to 3 [ make converts to goodness is not to set up 1 rigid, stern, and frightful examples of it • for emulation. Our exemplary, pious, t religious, and virtuous, neighbor Mr t Tomkins is always plunged in the blues, is excessively fond of wholesale denunciations upon the sins ot the world, and t frowns with all the austere severity of a s saint upon the shortcomings of human > beings. On the other hand, our neigh- - bor Mr. Jones is very far from being pious i and occasionlly is something of a sinner. We have really known him to swear 1 sometimes. He goes to the theatre. He s i plays with his children in the park on I Sundays. He likes a game of whist. He r j takes once in a while a hot whiskey night--3 cap. He prefers a ramble in the fields, Ito the Rev. Mr. Prosy’s fifty minutes t sermons, In brief, he horrifies Mr. Tomp- ' kins. Now if called upon to judge be- ' tween Mr Tompkins and Mr. Jones, wa II should say that Mr. Jones’ sin agreed ; with him a great deal better than virtue ! agreed with Mr. Tompkins—for Mr. Jones r is a fat, merry good-natured, happy, al greeable man, and Mr. Thmpkins is a bil- : ious, sour, shrivelled, melaneholy, solemn . and distinguished member of the well : i known ‘Serious Family.’ If goodness produces results so melancholy in the case : of Mr. Tompkins, and sin operates so fa- . vorably with Jones, can an observing, I happiness seeking world fail to note the l difference and make its own conclu- , sion? We once heard a laughter-loving i friend declare, very blasphemously we 1 admit, that if all the blaek-coaled, psalm- ■ i singing-through-the-nose, melancholy, ; | and groaning folk were to go to one place, - and the rest of the world to the other, he .'.didn’t know but he would rather take r i hio «h»noo with the merry fellows down 3 below! !■, The fact is, there is nothing inconsistt; ent with morality in a meny heart. The d virtues will flourish quiet as well in the midst of laughter as groans, and when the i pious world comes to recognize this prin- ■ ciple practically (for the theory is so self--evident they all acknowledge that') the > world will stride on ail the more rapidly i to the Millennium. She Made Happy. A plain marble stone in aVew England churchyard bears this brief inscription— • ' “She always made home happy.’’ ( This epitaph was penned by a bcreav- ■ ed husband, after sixty years of wedded ■ life. He might have said of his departed [ wife, she was beautiful and accomplished, and an ornament to society, and yet not I have said, she made home happy. He I ! might have added, she was a Christian,! and not have beeu able to say “She always made home happy.” What a rare combination of virtues and graces this wife and mother must have possessed? How wisely she must have 1 ordered her soul? How self-dening she must have been? How tender and lov- ! [ ing? How thoughtful for the comfort of all about her! Her husband did not seek happiness in I public places, because he found purer and sweeter enjoyments of home. Her children, when away did not dread [ return, for there was no place for them so , I dear as home. There was there mother [thinking for them, and praying for them, I and longing for their coming. When tempted, they thought of her. I When in trouble, they thought of her [kind voice and her ready sympathy. When sick, they must go home; iney [ could not die away from their dear mother. This wife and mother was not exempt from the cares common to her place. 1 She toiled; she suffered disappointments and bereavments, she was afflicted in her ! ! own person, but yet she passed away, | ! leaving this sweet reraemberance behind] her — ‘She always made home happy.’ A cotemporary, speaking of the late an-1 uual meeting of the Edito’’ : al nation,' isays; i “Altogether we are at a ioss to know j whether the merits of the Convention were owing to the fact, that a great many , Editors stayed at home, or to the fact that a goodly number were in attendance.” The public will be pretty apt to think I they “were owing” to both facts. J [Zanesville Courier. :' If you meet with a man that is a man, , ior a woman that is a woman, and nothing : else, you may find something human about them; but the quibbles and quirks, I the hypocracy and meanness, the bearti lessr.ess, treachery and sordidness of what: ■. is denominated ‘good society,’ are scani dalous beyoud all names lor scandal.

- _ .. ———— A Curious Incident.—The fact we are about to relate has the very rare merI it of truth combined with the pleasant ex- • -citement of wonderful; so slate the Phil- ‘' udelphia Evening Jovrnal. S metime ago a friend of ours purchas* ed a number of picture frame, tastfully i made of acorns, and handsomely stained [ and varnished, and placed them in his lisibrary at his country house, which rei mained closed and untenanted. The sea- > son was an unusually damp one during > their absence, and upon their return it was deemed advisable to have their rural i homestead aired and dried by constant fires in ail the rooms, before inhabiting ,; it again. Orders to this effect were [ therefore dispatched, and the opening be- [ gan under the direction of the old housei keeper. Windows and doors were flung II wide open one after another, letting in 1 the sunshine to mildewed walls and hang- ; ing-s, until the ‘household corps’ arrived .j at the library, when as the first pair of •.shutters swung back, the breeze flut- [ tered in and played on the walls with a , sound as of rustling foliage’ causing a i universal and rather startled movement ' of eyes in the direction of the mysterious ,' sound. That the astonishment of the ga- >. zers was by no means lessened when they ■ I beheld the cause of the rustling, our readers will easly credit, when we inform ) [ them that several acorns on each picture ! j frame had sprouted, and a grove of tnin- : j iature oaks were gently waving their tiny ij boughs and fluttering their dark green ■ leaflets around the maj<stic brows of • . Washington, and Franklin, and Adams, i ! and half a dozen others of our veneralble I , fathers of the republic. Nature herself •J had broken through her accustomed laws :| to crown these patriot heroes with her I own wreaths of honor, and otter, even in [ her dying struggles, beautiful tribute to i their memory. I Now, is not this fact worth all the fa- • bles of Sheerezade or Swift, a hundred times ever?— Cincinnatti Times, An Odd Affair.—A cotemporart gives an amusing account of a very curious affair that recently transpired in the vicinity of Newburg,'in this State. [lt seems that ten years ago a wealthy | farmer became impressed with the idea that he would die on the 20th of August, 185 G. So strongly did this impression take hold of bis mind, that he regarded his death at the time mentioned as a matter of certainty. He ordered a tombstone, bought his Coffin, selected bis grave, and camly made all the necessary preparations . for his death and burial. Ou the day 1 mentioned he called his friends together [ sat down with them at a sumptuous meat and after having partaken heartily he -shook hands all around, and went to bed j for the purpose of giving up the ghost. But to bis astonishment he couldn’t die. [He tried his best, but the ghost refused I to be given up, and at last he was compelj led to acknowledge that he had been tho [ victim of a powerful but absurd hallucination. He dismissed the undertaker who was present, sent back his coffin, counterniandcd his tombstone, but found it [ difficulty; we presume, to return the par j ting farewell of his friends. He will not | again yield himself readily to such an illusion, we’ll be sworn. An INCIDENT OF THE FUEL FAMINE AT Chicago.—The Chicago Democratic press ! tells the following story and vouches for i its truth: ‘There was a crowd in the office of tha city marshal yesterday, where that goodnatured official was selling wood to tho poor. ‘Stand back, all of you, and let I the woman with a baby have a chance.’ The crowd complied, and again and i again women after women, each with a babe in her arms, kept pressing forward .to the desk. The marshal took it coolly fr.w n varl-.iln mil tinnllptko infunf to assume a familiiar look, and an examination was had, when it turned out that i the mother was lending her baby to her 1 acquaintances, to secure for them the I immunities which she herself enjoyed.— [ There was a laugh all round, and a fresh start. Jim avers that the last borrower of the baby pinched it to make it excite i additional sympathy. j A Fast Town. — A correspondent of ' the Ohio Patriot, writing from Omaha’ . Nebraska Territory, relates the following I incident in illustration of the activity of that smart little town; •Last night a man slept with a women. I and didn't know it. The lady came to the Douglass House in the afternoon and being crowded the clerk gave her his I room. This victim of the wantof instinct | had occupied an adjoining ruom the night before, with another man, and by mistake got into bed with the women—-got up first in the morning, and did not dream of such proximity tonight caps or gowns till informed by the cleik’ ot whom sho : asked, ‘what fool was that iu my bed last night? No one will question the activity ' of Omaha after this,

NO. 3.