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     The "little unpleasantness" with the "Lo family," at Correctionville, spread as if on the wings of the wind. The whole country for miles around was in a blaze of excitement. The guards especially, were burning to emulate the deeds of fallen heroes. "They smelt the battle afar off." The news spread rapidly—like a snowball rolling down the mountain's side, the farther it rolls the more it accumulates. The most exaggerated reports of the affair were soon after read in the New York journals. The risibles of the guards were uncontrollable when they read these reports, to see how easy it was to become a hero.
     When the report reached Col. Baldwin, of Council Bluffs, he immediately dispatched to our relief a company of "mounted minute men," from Mills county, under commend of Capt. Tubs, who made a forced march, and were soon on the ground, ready to co-operate with the guards in affording protection to the settlers. The guards and citizens of Sioux City gave Capt. Tubs and company a hearty welcome Capt. Tubs was a fine looking officer, and an excellent disciplinarian. His company was made up of Mills county's best citizens, among whom was D. Solomon, a prominent lawyer of Glenwood, several doctors and ministers of the gospel, whose names I now have forgotten. They responded to the order to relieve us of our supposed danger like true patriots and brave men, sacrificing their personal interests and comfort of their families. On their arrival (July 5th) they were agreeably surprised to find the smoke of battle cleared away and the brave guards tranquilly reposing on their arms, with an inordinate appetite for lager which was a slight proclivity of our braves. Our minute friends remained with us two or three days, to recuperate themselves and jaded horses, during which time the hospitalities of the town were extended them. On the 8th, a luxurious dinner was given them at Cassady's Hall, by the citizens of Sioux City, under the directions of the ladies where our Mills county friends were feasted and toasted in a very happy manner. I am sorry that I cannot here give the toasts and eloquent and well-timed responses on that occasion. The next morning they took up their line of march for home, escorted out of town by the "guards" and followed by the good wishes of our grateful citizens, for the manifestation of their magnanimity and patriotism. On the day of their departure, two members of the guards, Thomas Roberts (brother of William, who was wounded at Correctionville) and Henry Corduway, among our oldest and most worthy citizens, obtained a permit from Capt. Trip to cross over to the east side of the Floyd river, to what was known as Hartshorn's Ravine, for the purpose of plowing potatoes that they were cultivating there, taking with them their horses and wagon. The field was in full view of the town. They were ordered to report themselves at roll call in the evening. Roll call came, but not the two soldiers. Nothing strange was thought of this as it was supposed that they wished to complete their work before returning. No alarm was felt by their families, as Roberts was something of a hunter, and it was thought that they had, in all probability, gone in pursuit of elk or other game. But when they did pot come at a late hour in the night, Mrs. Corduway, who lived on the east side of Floyd river, in what was known as " Cole's Addition," became much alarmed as to the whereabouts and safety of her husband, and about 11 o'clock that night the determined to institute some search or inquiry for him. Accordingly, she started for the house of J. M. White, a member of the guards, who lived about three fourths of a mile up the river. Arriving there, she awoke White, who, on hearing her statement, immediately reported their absence to Capt. Trip, who was then camped with a portion of his company in Sioux City, on the bluff just north of G. W. Chamberlain's house. Grave suspicions were now entertained as to their safety. G. W. Chamberlain (Orderly Sergeant) was ordered out with a small detachment of men to make search for the missing ones. They arrived at the field about two o'clock in the morning, where they found the wagon in a twist, with the hind wheels turned upon the side and the harness near by, having been cut off of the horses. The premises gave unmistakable evidence of hostility. The horses evidently had been tied to the hind wheels of the wagon, and having been frightened, turned them up as they were found. The darkness rendered further discovery impossible. They remained on the ground until daylight when evidences of Indians were clearly discernible, but the I missing men were nowhere to be found, and as no traces of I blood were discovered, it was presumed that they had been made prisoners or carried off to some more secret place, and murdered. They had evidently taken the horses. Their trail was soon struck, when the command started in pursuit, leaving J. M.White to report to headquarters, which he promptly did. As I was seating myself at the breakfast table, J. C. C. Haskins appeared at my door, with gun in hand, and narrated in substance the statement above, and that our company was ordered out immediately to search for the missing men. Saddling my horse as quickly as possible, I mounted and was soon on the way with what remained of our company. Arriving at the field, we found J. M. White who had discovered the body of Roberts. Further search being made, the lifeless body of Corduway was found a short distance from Roberts, in the grass near where they had been at work—both lying on their backs, as if they had laid down to sleep. Roberts had his left hand on his left breast, with his thumb under his vest; in his right hand he held a small tin pail, about half full of water. He had seemingly died without a struggle. But Corduway had struggled considerably. On turning them over it was found that they had been shot in the back—Roberts through the lungs, the ball lodging in the palm of his left hand, and Corduway through the bowels. They evidently had been preparing their dinners when they received the fatal shot; so close were the enemy upon them when they fired that the powder burned their clothes. The harness was hastily and temporarily repaired and thrown upon the horses, which were hitched to the wagon in which were laid the bodies of our murdered comrades, which were conveyed to Cassady's Hall, to await the necessary arrangements for burial. Both left families to mourn their sad fate.
     A courier was at once dispatched to Council Bluffs with the startling intelligence to Col. Baldwin. John Hubble, a youth, was selected to carry the dispatch. He mounted a horse and set out on the trip, stopping at Onawa and several other points to procure fresh horses. He reached his place of destination about twelve hours, a distance of 110 miles. Captain Trip, after detailing men sufficient to convey the dead to town, took the remainder of his company and started in pursuit of the enemy. Taking the trail, we went south, across Hartshorn's Ravine, thence southeast for a mile or more, when the trail turned north. Judging, from indications, there could not have been more than two Indians. We soon came upon Sergeant Chamberlain with whom we continued the pursuit, when about noon I was ordered to carry a dispatch to Correctionville, where a small detachment of the guards were stationed, ordering Joseph Buchanan (brother-in-law of the murdered Roberts) to Sioux City. Frederick Borsh accompanied me. Having ridden our horses quite rapidly during the day, my horse gave out before we had gone many miles, whereupon I urged Borsh, as his horse was seemingly good, to leave me and hurry on with the dispatch, which he reluctantly did. I urged my disabled and wearied horse along as fast as it was practicable, and arrived safely at Correctionville late in the evening. There was no house then from Sioux City, or after leaving the Floyd river, until arriving at Correctionville, a distance of over thirty miles. Captain Trip continued pursuit until next day, when he was relieved by Captain Morton, who commanded a small company composed mostly of the settlers of Plymouth county. Morton continued the chase until about four o'clock that afternoon, when for some cause best known to himself; he abandoned pursuit and returned home.
     The alarm had now spread until it had reached every cabin and hamlet on the frontier, and a general stampede seemed inevitable. Many abandoned their homes and fled to Sioux City for safety. Others returned east among their friends until there should be some guaranty of safety to our frontier. In order to check further hostilities and restore tranquility, his excellency Gov. Kirkwood, who had been notified by Col. Baldwin of the state of affairs, ordered Capt. John Mitchell, of Des Moines, to garrison the most exposed points, and afford protection to the settlements. A portion of this company was left to garrison Cherokee. Two brothers (whose names I now have forgotten), citizens of Cherokee county, joined Capt. Mitchell's command, or acted in conjunction with it as scouts. It was during the month of August that these scouts, returning from a scout, late one sultry evening, their horses fatigued from the day's ride, themselves equally so, they sought rest for the remainder of the night in a stock-yard, in or close to the town of Cherokee. Turning their horses loose in the yard, they climbed upon the top of a shed covered with hay, which stood in the enclosure, so that they might be able to keep an eye on their horses. They were armed with minnie rifles loaded with conical balls. They slept alternately, in order to keep a close watch for any approaching enemy. The moon shone brightly, and objects were discernible for some distance around. About two o'clock in the morning, not seeing anything to awaken suspicions of danger to themselves or horses, the watch was gently yielding to the demands of balmy sleep, when he was suddenly aroused by some unusual noise, and on looking in the direction from whence it proceeded, he was startled to see two stalwart Indians in possession of their horses, and leading them toward the bars of the yard. Quietly awakening his brother, each selected his victim, who were now endeavoring to lay down the bars, one of whom was in a stooped position, with his unmentionable in range with the unerring rifle of the scout which at once sent a leaden compliment crashing through him, raking him fore and aft, coming out at the top of his head. The other scout missed his aim; the savage made his escape with the horse. The scouts leaped from the shed and approached the fallen foe, who had not yet taken his departure for the new hunting ground. As they came near him, he struck at them with his gun, when they sent another ball through his heart which safely landed him in the hunting grounds of the great spirit. The victors, no doubt wishing to preserve some memento of their copper-colored prize, not only scalped, but skinned his entire head, which scalp they sent to Capt. Trip's headquarters, at Sioux City, where it hung for several days out on the Captain's tent, which gave it the appearance of the home of a notable brave, when it was afterward forwarded to Gov. Kirkwood, at Des Moines.
     In the latter part of July (1861) a detachment of the guards, under command of Lieut. Millard, were ordered to Correctionville, as a relief garrison at that post. They were T. J. Stone, W. Haley, M. Bruckner, T. McElhany, J. Hipkins, Mr. Lee, Mr. Chapman, N. Levering, and others whose names are now not remembered. Each night a portion of the command was detailed to guard the settlers' stables, for the protection of their horses. This kind of duty the boys denominated "Watch-dog Duty," which we regarded as quite appropriate. We were rendezvoused in a log cabin near the house of J. M. Kellogg, a very excellent man, in whose family resided two young ladies, whose acquaintance Bruckner and Lee soon made, and generally acted as their escort. They were observed one day by T. McElhany, accompanying the young ladies to a grove of timber on the bank of a small stream, about one mile distant, for the purpose of gathering berries. The boys being unarmed, Mac. thought there was a good opportunity for fun, which he lost no time in improving. Hastening to the house of a Mr. Everett, near whose house the parties had gone, he found Mr. Everett ripe for a joke, as he always was. They quickly agreed upon a plan to frighten the unsuspecting by personating the Indian. Accordingly, Everett painted his face and donned a blanket, and Mac., with his gun loaded with a blank cartridge, they hurried off. Arriving at the timber they cautiously crept, unobserved, through the brush on the opposite side of the stream until they were sufficiently near the party, who were busily at work and not anticipating the least danger, when suddenly the report of a gun was heard. The young ladies, on looking sharply in the direction of the sound, discovered Everett, and shrieked (as only affrighted women can), "Indians! Indians!!" and away they bounded for home, through the brush and over the logs, like young fawns, while Lee stood coolly watching the movements of the blanket as if to fully satisfy himself as to whether attacked by Indians or not. Calling Bruckner to his side he said, "Morris, there are Indians over there; don't you see them ? Don't you see that blanket? " Bruckner was a German, but spoke English tolerably well, and was pluck to the heel. Bruckner, after hastily surveying the supposed enemy, grasped the limb of a tree-top lying near him, which he endeavored to break off for a war club, at the same time shouting at the top of his voice, " Vot for you shoots over here ? Shust you stops cat, or I shust comes over there und beats h—1 out you." Getting no response to his interrogatory or threats, he said, " Lee, I shust believes dem are Inshuns, und ve had better leave," and suiting actions to words, they beat a retreat—not, however, without first making a hasty search for the girls. They hurried to the house of Everett, thinking that the girls had fled thither. Arriving there they found the would-be Indians—Everett in the act of washing the paint off of his face, and convulsed with laughter T. J. Stone was standing near Kellogg's house, looking down the road in the direction of the timber, when he saw girl No. 1, bounding up the road at the top of her speed, with bonnet in hand, as if life was at stake. Calling to me he said, " See that girl coming, something wrong. Let's go and see! " Off we ran to our quarters, and grasping our guns, we soon inquired of the young lady the cause of her alarm, and were told that the Indians had attacked the party. "I saw," said she, "one great big Indian with a blanket on. He shot at us, and the ball whizzed close by my head." "Where are the boys? " said we. " I don't know; I left them there." We hurried on, thinking that a bloody fight with Mr. Lo was inevitable. Meeting girl No. 2, her statement was a corroboration of No. 1. Leaving her we hurried forward, when we soon met Bruckner and Everett, who were now looking for the girls whom they feared had been seriously frightened. On being informed of their safety, Everett related the joke, which was followed by roars of side-splitting laughter, all enjoying the joke a hugely.
     Soon after this, and while we were at Correctionville, some of the company concluded to test the fighting qualities of one of its members—Wm. Haley—an Irishman from Monona county, who was regarded by his fellow soldiers as a great coward. The following plan was agreed upon: Tom Flowers, an intimate friend of Bill's, proposed to him one day, that he (Bill) should accompany him on a scout for Indians, which Bill readily agreed to. One of the men was selected to play Indian. Taking his gun and red I blanket under his arm, he quietly slipped out of camp and down to the timber, unobserved by Bill. Flowers, in order that nothing serious might occur by a shot from Bill's gun, proposed that he should load it for him, to which Bill readily assented. Tom took the gun, and stepping aside, loaded it with a blank cartridge. Having done this, they mounted their horses, when their brothers in arms crowded around to give words of cheer, while some shook Bill by the hand and expressed their fears that ere the sun went down, some redskin would possess his scalp. Pat assured them that he would give a good account of himself should they encounter an Indian. They rode down to the timber, when Flowers proposed that they should ride into the river to let their horses drink. While in the river, the crack of a gun was heard. On looking around, a red blanket was seen behind a tree near by. "Indians!" said Flowers. "Run for life! " and spurring his horse, dashed off, saying, "Bill, save yourself:" Bill was not to be bluffed. He dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and was disposed to take matters coolly. Unslinging his gun he said, " Be dad, an' I'm not afther lavin' until I make a howl in yer darty hide." Looking about for his comrade and not seeing him, he shouted, " Tom! Tom! " Receiving no response, he concluded he wanted to see Tom worse than the Indian, and took to his heels, leaving his horse behind. Coming out on the prairie in full view of our quarters, he stopped, looked for a moment at Tom—who was charging about on his horse as if his horse was uncontrollable, then in the direction of the timber, as if determined not to give up the contest—when he shouted, "Come on, Tom, for by the howly saints I'll have a shot at him yet. "Retracing his steps to the edge of the timber, he tip-toed, and stretched his neck to its full capacity, while he peered around for the enemy. His eye soon caught a glimpse of the red blanket through the brush, when Pat whaled away and immediately took to his scrapers, like a quarter horse, until he was some distance on the prairie. Looking toward our quarters and seeing a number of us standing in a group, looking toward him, he pulled off his hat, and waving it over his head, shouted in an indignant voice, "Come down here, you cowardly devils—come down! The woods is full of Ingins." Each one grasped his gun and started on a double-quick. We were soon circled round him, listening to his wonderful adventure. Said he, "Boys, the woods are alive with Ingins. I saw four great big fellers, with red blankets." "See here," he continued, holding up his right hand that had received a scratch in the brush, and pulling open his bosom, which also had received a scratch, "see here where two balls grazed me. Be dad, boys, I'll have a shot at them again." We complimented him for his bravery, and told him that it would be an act of rashness to venture into the timber again as the enemy had the advantage of us. Tom rode into the timber and brought out Bill's horse, when all withdrew from the bloodless field to our quarters, in good order, well convinced that Pat was game, and to fool with him was unsafe. Bill remained in blissful ignorance of the joke for several days, when he incidentally heard of it one day in a saloon, after we had been ordered back to Sioux City. His wrath knew no bounds. He immediately conquered a pint of "red-eye," and then started for camp to conquer the company. It was a bright, moonlight night, when Bill came staggering into camp, roaring like one of the bulls of Bashan. He stamped, he raved, he foamed and frothed, he swore he would whip the Captain, and every "domed" officer and private in the company. He was ordered under guard, but to no effect. It was not until a late hour that, from exhaustion, he succumbed to Morpheus and slumbered away his wrath. These were some of the notable and brilliant feats and strategic movements of the guards, for which they were so justly renowned.



     The Scott County Pioneer Settlers' Association, of Scott county, held their fifteenth annual festival at Davenport, on the evening of January 9th, 1872, on which occasion the Hon. James Grant pronounced the following eloquent eulogy on some of the pioneer dead of Scott county:—
     There is always a sadness attendant on our annual meetings. This association was created to preserve from oblivion the memory of the early settlers of this county, and to make some permanent record of past events, which otherwise would be forgotten when our day and generation had departed.
     We have all lived so many years in this community that we are now old men and old women. Long before our organization was created, a large majority of the settlers of this county—prior to December 1, 1840—had passed out of existence, without a record of even their names, much less their history.
     Every year since our organization we have been called upon to mourn the death of some members of this body whose lives had been passed in usefulness among us, and whose memory was endeared to us by fond recollections. Antoine Le Claire, Ebenezer Cook, Willard Barrows, and Charles Metteer, who had held high positions in society, end been presidents of this body, have all died and been buried by this society, with the honor and respect due to well-spent lives. Never, in the last fourteen years, have we met, in this hallowed congregation, without performing the melancholy duty of funeral honors to some brave men or women, who had periled their lives in the wilderness, and had been coworkers with us in all these honest and honorable labors which made this the garden of the valley, and filled it with intelligence, luxury, and refinement.
     But in the past year, our associates greater in number and personal character and influence than ever before have died; and the year 1871, from its beginning to its close, has gathered from our midst a harvest of death without a parallel in our history. During that period, eighteen men and women—whose lives had been long, useful, and honorable among us—have been taken from earth to a life immortal. They are numbered as follows:—
     Thomas Jones, Leroy Dodge, Jabez A. Birchard, Ebenezer Cook, James Davenport, Rodolphus Bennett, Alanson Noble, Michael Cooper, William Wilson, Isadore Dapron, Jas. Jack, Mrs. Isabella Maclot Wallace, Mrs. Charles H. Eldridge, Mrs. Ephraim Lane, Mrs. Wm. H. Gabbert, Mrs. J. M. Dunn, and Miss Lucy Campbell—daughter of Andrew W. Campbell—and Mrs. Milo Pollock.
     You do not expect me to give a short history of the life of each or any of our deceased friends, but in this large array of names, the mention of every one of which will carry our memories to days long vanished, and recall characters and events which had years been forgotten, there are some who occupied the very front ranks in the march of civilization and order which created this county.
     Thomas Jones died early in the year. Leroy Dodge, James Davenport, Ebenezer Cook, Jabez A. Burchard, and Rodolphus Bennett, all died between the harvest and the fall of the leaves of 1871. They were among the greatest of the great men of Scott county, in days of yore; they continued tall trees in the forest of talent, industry and energy which has honored Scott county since its habitation by the whites. They trod on and literally rubbed out the receding footprints of the red man, when the Caucasian wave rolled its white crest west of the Father of Waters in Iowa.
     Leroy Dodge was, for a long period of his early life, a steamboat pilot and owner, on the river which runs from us to the gulf. He settled in this county and became a leading and prominent farmer, in 1839. He was elected to the legislature in 1852. No man in his township was more intelligent or useful. In private life he was a good husband, a kind father, and an exemplary neighbor.
     Ebenezer Cook has occupied as large a place in the confidence of the inhabitants of this county as any other man. He was first clerk of the district court after its organization in this county. He held various places of trust and honor—was in the constitutional convention of 1845—was alderman and mayor of your city, and was connected with the Rock Island railroad from its organization. He was a banker, and at one time the leading one in the state. As clerk of the court, he signed my license to practice law in Iowa. One of the first citizens of the county that I ever saw—my calling and his own brought us in constant intercourse for over a quarter of a century. He deservedly held a high place in your esteem, and his loss to you, as a people, will be long and deeply deplored. This is not a place or occasion for indiscriminate praise or general adulation, much less for censure.
     We knew Ebenezer Cook as well as any man outside of his own family, and few men have lived a more useful life—few have done more to give this county and this city' the exalted position which they hold in the state of Iowa. In private life, who was his superior? James Davenport was a man who possessed many elements of character in common with Ebenezer Cook and Leroy Dodge. He was a well informed man—perhaps like those early settlers, not well educated; a man of generous impulses, greet prudence end circumspection in affairs. He, with John Sullivan and a few others like them—among them, Dr. Barrows—undertook to build the town of Rockingham, as the county seat of this county, and no greater compliment can be paid to their ability than to say, that for four years they kept it an open question. They contested the palm of place and pride against the most beautiful town site on the river, with a little neck of sand surrounded by a swamp—against all the odds of wealth and talent scarcely inferior to their own, until the whole territory was convulsed with the contest.
     Jabez A. Birchard was of the most intelligent—perhaps I shall offend no one if I say he was the most intelligent farmer that honored the early history of Scott county. In those days it was my privilege to see him often—to know him well. His knowledge not only of farming, but of those general affairs which interest the masses, was very great and very exact. He only lacked the confidence which is needed to make a public speaker, to have been as distinguished in public assemblies as he was the acknowledged deader of his neighborhood.
     Rodolphus Bennett was once connected with a great publishing house in one of the eastern states. He was the first mayor of the town of Davenport, and would have held many places of public trust, but office-holding and office-seeking were not congenial to his nature. If time permitted, I should speak largely on the excellent characters of the other old settlers, men and women, who have died during the past year.
     It has been to us a year of sadness, "days to be remembered, for they shall see many." It comes home to our hearts' core—it follows our waking hours, that death has demanded a hecatomb of offerings from our once numerous but now little, band of pioneers. Our pale faces have erased the land-marks of the red son of the prairies; we have cultivated where he hunted; we have supplanted his wigwam with the dwelling, the church, the seat of justice, and the school; we have banished his barter trade of skins, and made depots for commerce and trade by river and rail; we have built up—with the help of our dead—a little republic, where the plow has superseded the bow and arrow, in earning a livelihood, and where intelligence and virtue have driven away barbarism and vice. And, so far as is proper, we may congratulate ourselves and our children, upon the heritage we have created. But death has stricken both leaders and people of the ancient days. We who live, are being swallowed up and absorbed by a later generation, and we are now on the utmost verge of time.
     When we look over the long funeral array of 1871, we involuntarily look each other in the face, and the anxious thought of who shall go next, betrays itself without utterance. We are old men and women, fast tottering to the grave; we must soon follow the large concourse of 1871. A few years like the past and none of U8 will be left to condole or congratulate.
     In the past history of this society, its members who now survive have been afflicted with many sorrows. Scarcely one among us has not lost a connection or relative—a father or mother, a husband or wife, a brother or sister, a son or daughter. Each one has had the piercing iron of anguish enter into his soul, and his life obscured by shadows, clouds, and darkness. Other misfortunes—the loss of estate, the destruction of business, the waste or loss of labor—have been endured at some time of our now long life, by nearly every one now present and absent who belongs to this goodly company.
     But the clouds do not always flit between us and the sun. Calamity has been the exception, not the rule of our lives. We have been, and those who survive now are, useful men and women. Our lives have been, in the main, happily and profitably lived, and the future has no perils for us beyond what are common to our nature.
     There is a future in this world to the memory of the dead of 1871, and we to-night record it. A life of energy, industry, and truthfulness, has been rewarded in their case by honor and respect in old age and death. Their labors have lived after them. Ours, in common with theirs, will survive U8. We were all, like our county, new men. We began with frontier life, with privations and hardships. Our greatest efforts of either mind or body were little things. We planted a prairie, with a held here and another there; a log cabin in this place, another miles away; we settled a village on the banks of the river; we organized a society first, a neighborhood, then a county, then a village, and then a state.
     We can now behold a county with nearly all its land under the plow. Every township has its village, the county seat the largest city in the state, and the state one of the greatest in a great Union.
     We have lived in the age of progress, and we have kept in the fore-front of civilized advancement. We are not now frontiersmen, cut off from civilization, fighting with savages and wild beasts for the land; but we are in the center of a continent of civilized life. Whatever in the progress of art and science contributes to the usefulness and happiness of man, we enjoy. Railroads, telegraphs, steam engines, machinery, everything that lightens labor and gives it value, is ours.
     We have created the first city and county of the state. We have the best cultivated fields, and the largest number of any county in Iowa; and we have the most comprehensive and best organized system of public education in the state, and one which will bear honorable mention in any state.
     We organized society in the desert. We who survive enjoy civilization in its highest form, and whatever is found to be most useful in the arts. Whatever of happiness there is in morality, and in intelligence, in the school and church, in education and refinement, in constant and easy intercourse with our fellows, in confidence and cheap transit of trade, and sale of products of labor, in the telegraph and printing press—is ours to-day, and to the end of our lives. Most of the old settlers of this county survived the privations, the wants, the perils, and poverty of frontier life. They endured most suffering from 1833 to 1884, but they lived to greet the dawn of a better day for themselves. They saw the bright sunshine of the rosy-fleeced morn of prosperity, and lived to feel its meridian splendor on themselves and their families. "Surely goodness end mercy attended them all their days, and they shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

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