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be-friends endeavoured to exalt him, the more deeply hu- | his future wife, and one esteemed friend, under which miliated he felt. He longed for nothing so much as for appellation he is good enough to understand me.” ・・ solitude, that he might escape the sight and hearing of Caroline's blood mounted again to her temples; what their sickening baseness. could be the matter with her?

"The miserable wretches," he exclaimed, "do they take me for one of themselves? My six years' service availed me nothing, but the mere report of wealth brings them about me like crows scenting at a carrion. I might be a fool-a villain-no matter, I am supposed to be a millionaire, and there is not a quality of heart or mind which they are not willing to give me credit for. The comedy is too disgusting, Devereux.”

"It is capital sport," replied Devereux. "But the master stroke is still to be played. The conquest of the fair Romanus is yet to be achieved."



The conquest was already half made before the friends began the attack. Old Romanus, who had hitherto made it a rule to avoid all mention of Morn's name, had it now on his lips from morning till night. There could be no doubt of the million any longer; the whole city rung with the news-he had refused an appointment in the Ministry, and the Minister of Finance, von Rabe, and his excelleney Count von Bilterblolt, were ready politely to cut each other's throats, to obtain Casimir Morn for a son-in-law. "They say he will choose Countess Ida," said Caroline, slyly affecting an air of dejection, and glancing her bright blue eyes on her father,

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The old gentleman made no answer, but nodded his head with a cunning look, and reckoned some imaginary sum with his fingers, Pah, pah, all stuff-nonsensewhat has she got, I ask; what has she got? Nothing! a rained family, root and branch! How that pleases me in the lad Morn; he has got his money by honest trade, but his father was a rogue, an arrant rogue, and has made me as poor as Job, my girl. I shall never get a penny of all he owed me."

There was a knock at the door, and the well-known stranger, the Englishman Devereux, entered. Caroline blushed like a carnation, and Herr Romanus opened his eyes and mouth.

"I have a little business to transact with you, Herr Romanus, if you have no objection," said the stranger, with a courteous bow. "You might find it highly advantageous."

"Business; I am at your Lordship's service. Do me the great honour to sit down."

"Mr. Casimir Morn, whose affairs in England I have had the honour of managing, wishing to retire from business, as he finds his income amply sufficient, ('So, so, so,' muttered Romanus,) has been to view the estate of Dreileben, which is understood to be for sale; he seems inelined to purchase it."

"How, he indeed!-Dreileben!--but why Dreileben? it's a large purchase, ticklish speculation, very: they will ask a confounded price, eh?""

Mr. Morn has taken a fancy to it, and the name pleases him. He has often said it would be a Faradise for two, or perhaps three friends, who would desire to -pass their lives together. By the three he means himself,

"But you are perfectly right about the price, Mr. Romanus. Baron Von Wolpern demands no less a sum than a hundred and fifty thousand guilders; or, ready money, a hundred and thirty thousand. Mr. Morn will pay ready money, but,"-

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'Ready money, a hundred and thirty thousand! so, so! an excellent young-an excellent young man.”

"Still the price seems enormous. He wishes that the bargain should be concluded by some one who understands the business better than he does. He would be willing to reward the trouble of any person inclined to act as his agent in this matter, by a gratification of a hundred guilders for every thousand abated in the purchase-money. Now, he maintains that there is not a man in the city so well qualified to transact business of this nature as Mr. Romanus."

"Your humble servant," said the old man, glancing suspiciously at his visiter. He could not understand any one giving away even civility for nothing. "Now, if you would have the goodness to take this commission on yourself."

"Hundred for every thousand: I am at your lordship's command."

"It is a matter of extreme vexation to Mr. Morn that he has not been on such good terms with you of late years as formerly."

"Trifles, tut-mere trifles, mere trifles."

"He told me, that at first it was his intention to have put his little capital in your hands instead of employing it in England; and indeed, after that he would have proposed a speculation in the English funds, but your coldness towards him-"


"Trifles, I tell you, thunder and lightning !-mere trifles; and how should I know what he meant ?" said the old man, half crying. Why was he so hard-hearted to a poor man like me, as not to say a word about it when he was rolling in gold?''

"But, to return to this affair of Dreileben; are you inclined to undertake it?''

Romanus walked up and down the room with his hands behind him, muttering and grumbling to himself for some minutes. "I'll do it," said he, at length; "the profit is small, very small, but times are bad, very bad: an honest tradesman must not let anything slip through his fingers."

In eight days the purchase was completed. Herr Romanus made a snug little profit of a thousand guilders, and went quite cheerfully to Casimir to announce the conclusion of the business, and congratulate him on his acquisition.

"And we may be good friends again, my worthy Mr. Casimir," said the old man with a smile, yet somewhat embarrassed.

"I desire nothing more earnestly, Mr. Romanus," said Casimir, warmly. "Grant me but one favourmake me and your daughter happy at once.”

"It can't be, Mr. Morn. Haven't I told you over and over again, that the money I lost through your father has made me as poor as a church mouse.”

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worthy Mr. Casimir, you are a rich man now, and you are an honourable man; you wont let a poor old man like me suffer; you'll make up my loss to me?'' "Well, and if I do—then ?"

"Then I'll thank you on my knees."

"But, your daughter?"

"And the interest for seven years?""

"Well, and the interest-then?

every lip instinctively uttered the noble prefix, without asking for the patent. Ministers, Grand everythings, and Count everybodies, loaded him with invitations. At some of the fêtes where he was most pressingly invited, the electoral family were present; the noble hosts were solicitous to present Herr Von Morn to their Highnesses, and their Highnesses' reception was most gracious; but, strange to say, the object of all these flattering attentions

"Then the whole city will say, what a worthy, honest, felt anything but flattered. Not for what he was, but excellent, upright man you are."

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think of it!"*

for what he had, were all these caresses lavished; and it was with no small violence to his feelings that he constrained himself to go through the disgusting farce.

"I can bear it no longer," said Morn on one occasion, when a stronger dose of incense than ordinary had been offered up; and Devereux in reply said, "We must carry it through; I shall give you out for poor."

Towards the latter end of March, Devereux had gone

"But if I give you fifteen hundred carolines for one Ca- about with a look of affected anxiety, and dropped mysteroline? For your daughter, Caroline?" rious hints of bad news from England. He spoke of certain "I beg your pardon, but, with the interest, it would speculations being subject to enormous losses, as well as

be above two thousand!"

enormous gains. "It was fortunate he had so many power

"And if I did not hesitate to give you the two thousand, ful friends in," and so forth. Baron Von Wolpern was as soon as your daughter"—

"You are jesting with me, Mr. Morn. You see what little I have I want myself. I have been obliged to run in debt. Your father's bankruptcy was the ruin of me. can give the girl nothing but what she carries on her



seen to shake his head and look thoughtful, when the sale of Dreileben was talked of "the purchase-money was not yet paid down." It was whispered that Morn's splendid new equipage would be disposed of privately: the town-house was announced to be let. The news flew like wildfire through the town, with a thousand additions. On the first of April the matter was placed beyond a doubt, by Morn's driving about to all his new friends, among whom it became known with wonderful rapidity, that from some he had requested loans, from others secusym-rities, or their good offices with the Elector for an appoint

"Be it so, I will take her on your own terms." "Why, then I-I must ask the girl herself." Herr Romanus betook himself to his daughter. Morn was ready to dance for joy. He flew like one beside himself to Devereux, to relate his success, and ask his pathy, and Devereux gave it heartily.

Within eight days, the marriage contract was drawn out and signed, and the lovely Caroline Romanus became a yet lovelier Caroline Morn. Till Dreileben was ready for their reception, Devereux had taken care to provide a

suitable residence in the town.




"The joke must be carried through," said the English"The whole city bows down before you, dear Morn; even the Court itself courts your friendship. We will turn over a new leaf now. I shall give you out for poor, and see what sort of a grimace your dear friends will make then. And when the contemptible crew have sunk themselves as low as possible, we will turn our backs upon them for ever. I have let Baron Von Wolpern into the secret, for I must chastise the old curmudgeon, your father-in-law, for the Jew's bargain he has driven with you. No remonstrance-he deserves it."

Devereux told the simple truth. The whole town were bowing to the ground before the supposed Millionaire. And how should people, accustomed from their very childhood to value wealth, show, luxury, above all other earthly good, do otherwise ?-how feel anything but admiration and reverence for the amiable young man, who possessed the prettiest wife, the finest estate in the territory, and a million? The noblest and stiffest backs in the city bent in homage to this new luminary. Every one was solicitous for the notice of Herr Von Morn;

ment, &c. All those who, but four and twenty hours before, had overwhelmed him with offers of service, and halfstifled him with embraces, were in consternation at this new state of affairs. Some were "grieved beyond measure," in proper courtly phrase, others excused themselves coldly-"they made it a rule never to be surety for any one;" they had no interest; some smiled with scarcely concealed malicious pleasure at the sudden vanishing of the fairy treasure. One thing was evident, there was neither credit, money, nor interest, left in the whole city.

A splendid ball and supper at the house of his Exeellency Count Von Bilterblolt, at which Herr and Frau Von Morn were to have been present, was, for some unexplained cause, adjourned sine die. With old Romanus the result of all this was rather more serious than was intended. To him came Baron Von Wolpern one fine morning, accompanied by a lawyer of eminence, and politely requested of him, as negotiator in the purchase of Dreileben, security for the payment of the sum agreed on.

Romanus had certainly given no written surety for his son-in-law; but in his eagerness to gripe the proffered gain, he had verbally, and pretty plainly given it to be understood, that to hasten the purchase, he was ready to make advances; but nothing was farther from his thoughts than to be taken at his word. The evil reports that had been before flying about town had sorely disquieted him, and Morn's evasive answers to the questions he put to him had by no means tended to still the perturbation of his spirit. But when the Baron and his lawyer made their appearance, he was driven well-nigh crazy! In a few

hours after the Baron's visit, he had a fit of apoplexythe very mention of a physician made him furious, and the evening saw the end of his cares and his life together.



This sudden death changed the whole aspect of affairs. Romanus left enormous wealth behind him, much more

than had been expected. Casimir Morn had now really become the Millionaire for which his rich and whimsical friend had compelled him to pass. Dreileben had been bought in Morn's name, but the money had been furnished by Devereux, to whom, by an agreement between him and Morn, it had been immediately conveyed. Almost as much disgusted with the world as his friend, Devereux had resolved to end his days in some agreeable solitude. The charge of overlooking the estate was to be Morn's; he had positively refused to accept any gift from his English friend. Both were now, nearly, equally wealthy, but their plan of life remained the same. On the other hand, the worthy citizens of faced about with as much rapidity as if struck by a conjuror's wand:-" It was the first of April when we heard of this sudden loss; ah the arch jester, it was really too bad, but admirably done too!" High and low enjoyed the joke alike; Morn's doors were again besieged with visiters; wealth and credit returned in a wonderfully short time; the acceptance of securities and recommendations was pressed as the greatest possible favour to the givers; and as to dinners, balls, concerts, &c. &c., there was no end of them.

The road lay through a succession of richly-cultivated fields to a forest, where, as the peasants informed us, the mansion was situated-on the banks of the Rhine. When I entered the forest, however, I found it no forest, but a delightful compromise between park and garden, adorned on every side with graceful temples, the rarest plants, and exquisite groups of statuary in the purest marble. The expense of creating such a place must have been enormous. A spacious and magnificent house, with extensive outbuildings for agricultural purposes, stood before me, approached over a wide lawn smooth as velvet, and skirted by a magnificent orangery. Everywhere I saw traces of an almost royal outlay; guided, however, by a noble taste: none whatever of the avarice attributed to the possessor.

As I was getting out of the carriage a servant in a rich livery advanced to meet me, and, in answer to my inquiries for his master, was—“ Very sorry, but the family had left Dreileben that morning early, and were not expected back for some days." As there was no help for it I returned to town; in another week I repeated the attempt, but with no better success; the family were still absent. As my stay in the city was limited, I felt greatly vexed at my failure, and could not help expressing it in the circle I joined in the evening. I was answered by a general laugh.

"If you were to go twenty times to Dreileben," said one of the party to me, "you would get the same reception. You might have been spared the trouble of going if you had mentioned your intention beforehand. No one, be he who he may, is ever admitted within their doors. They have telescopes planted at certain points commanding the road, so that they are never to be taken by surprise. All the servants are previously instructed, and as soon as any one of them spies a visiter he runs in to warn his misanthrophical masters."


"I am heart-sick at all this," said Morn. "Come Caroline, come Devereux, let us to Dreileben, and forget these whited mockeries. I have been long enough a dupe. What more have I to do in the world, as it is called? Why should I be any longer a witness of these hollow juggleries, the sport of their false smiles? Be wise as Solomon; pure as an angel; sacrifice yourself for society; be a model of disinterestedness and beneficence-but poor in this world's goods, and you are nothing, or worse than nothing! Every blockhead will be exalted above you— every cold-hearted egotist sneer you down-every, even acknowledged scoundrel, be honoured and caressed before you, if he but possess that mightiest of talismans-ceived me with a kindness and cordiality I had little exwealth."

As soon as the business of the inheritance was arranged, and the house and business of old Romanus disposed of, Morn left the city in company with his wife and his friend, and has never since been known to enter it.

About six years after these occurrences, I had occasion to pay a visit to the electoral city. I knew that my old university friend, Casimir Morn, had formerly held some appointment there, and was rejoicing in the prospect of renewing my acquaintance with him. My earliest inquiries were concerning him. Few knew anything about him; at last I learnt that he was living at Dreileben, brooding over his money-bags, as his father-in-law had done before him, and keeping up no intercourse whatever with his neighbours. As soon as I had gathered these particulars, I got into a chaise one fine morning, and drove to Dreileben, musing and lamenting by the way on the perverse accident that could have changed my open-hearted, openhanded school friend, into that most pitiful of created beings-a miser.

Thus informed I wrote to Morn, expressing my desire to see him once more, and entreating that he would make me an exception to his general rule. I received a courteous answer, and the assurance that for me he would be at home; the day and the hour when I should be expected were punctually named.

When I came within sight of the house, Morn advanced to meet me, with his beautiful wife on his arm. Both re

pected, after all I had heard, and presented me to their friend Devereux; he was a young man about Morn's own age, of a graceful and highly prepossessing exterior, and anything but cynical in appearance. In a quarter of an hour we were the best friends in the world. I was entertertained with a magnificence that I have not always found even in princely palaces. The interior of the house corresponded with the costliness of the arrangements without. The library was splendid; the walls of all the larger rooms adorned with masterpieces of the greatest painters; and a music-room furnished with the finest instruments. In my honour there was a concert such as I have seldom heard from amateurs. The upper servants were all musical, and the heads of the family performers of no ordinary pretensions.

Morn had two lovely children; Devereux was still a bachelor, and announced his determination of dying one. "And you are really happy here in your beautiful retirement?" said I, inquiringly, when we were sitting in a pavilion in the garden, overlooking the lordly Rhine.

Morn smiled. "Why not? We form our own world here, and it is our happiness to know nothing of the other by experience. If we feel any curiosity about the proceedings of the fools, there are the newspapers to inform us. We prefer, however, to learn what the nobler spirits of other times have thought, or invented, or done; to learn it in the immortal legacy of works they have bequeathed us. All that Nature, Art, and Science afford of fairest and noblest surrounds us here. What is wanting to our Heaven? Intercourse with the rapacious, mentally crippled, corrupt, self-seeking herd without, would sully its purity, and make us partakers in their well-deserved misery. Well is it for those who can free themselves from the coil, and living with and for themselves, look on the sayings and doings of what you call the world, as on a theatrical spectacle, in which they are spectators, not actors."

These expressions led to a conversation on the true social relations of the wise; and it was then that Morn related his own and Devereux's stories, as I have repeated them to you.

"But with such ample means as you possess," said I, "what beneficent influence might you not exercise within your sphere! Would it not be a nobler happiness to use the abundance of your wealth in creating a paradise for others, instead of lavishing it on your own?"

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Morn's brow clouded, and he shook his head. "What would you have?" said he. Men are to be rendered happy by thought and action, not by money; but how many seek happiness thus ? who honour the search in others? Did I not waste the fairest years of my life in the vain hope of thus winning men's love and respect? Are not voluptuousness, avarice, vanity, and vulgar riot, alike predominant, from the palace to the cottage? In great or in little states, is it the ablest, the most honest, that are found at the head of affairs, or the richest, or best connected, as it is called? Are not the highest offices, affecting the weal or woe of millions, invariably the apanage of the latter, or the prey of the vilest intrigantes? Does not the history of all times and nations teach us that hatred and persecution has been the invariable portion dealt out, to the most virtuous and disinterested, by the rabble, in purple and fine linen, who rule the destinies of nations? And is it for such miserable wretches as these you would have me sacrifice my peace, and give up my tranquil bliss for the vain dream of making them wiser or better? No! I can love a man, but I despise men with my whole heart and soul."

When morning red is raying-
Then 'tis the time of day;
When children blithe are playing-

Then 'tis the time of day;
When gentle lambs are feeding,
And birds their songs are leading,
And lovely flowers are seeding-
Then 'tis the time of day.

When noontide suns are beamingThen 'tis the time of day;

Morn was evidently highly excited on this subject. His wife and Devereux joined chorus.

What could I do against this triple alliance, but-hold my tongue? The good people were not altogether in the wrong, and hence made the not very uncommon mistake of fancying themselves entirely in the right. I saw that by debating the point, though I might chagrin, I should not convert them. The trio were extremely susceptible by nature, and the life they were leading tended to nourish the defect. If Rousseau had been a Millionaire like Morn, with his lacerated heart and his gloomy views of life, he would have led the same life in France as Morn did on the banks of the Rhine; and opulence would have been, in his hands, but a means of indulging his egotistical dreams on a larger scale.

When the Counsellor had concluded the history of his first Millionaire, Morn's conduct was warmly discussed and variously commented on. All agreed that his scorn of the world and absolute seclusion must be looked upon as a revenge taken for its previous neglect, when the chances turned in his favour; but, while some of the circle held him perfectly justifiable, if not praiseworthy, in such indulgence of his feelings, others censured him loudly; had his circumstances been different, he might have been excused; but the withdrawal from all intercourse with his fellows, pardonable as self-defence in a poor man, was sheer egotism and narrow-heartedness in a rich one."

"Rich or poor," said one, every man has a right to seek his own happiness in his own way, provided he injure no one in the means selected."

"Will you tell us how a man, gifted alike by nature and fortune, can withdraw himself from the active duties of life, without injuring a great many?" retorted an anti-Mornite.

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When school-boys' eyes are gleaming-
Then 'tis the time of day;

When kine rest in the meadows,
And earth has lost its shadows,
And sunbeams are God's ladders-

Then 'tis the time of day,

When purple evening gloameth-
Then 'tis the time of day;
When John with Mary roameth-
Then 'tis the time of day;
When sheep are folded meetly,
And flower-cups closed up neatly,.
And nightingales sing sweetly-
Then 'tis the time of day.
Whenever loved is Naturo

Then 'tis the time of day;
Whenever bless'd a creature-
Then 'tis the time of day;
Whenever sin is shriven,
Whenever grace is given,

Then earth's clock strikes from heaven! And 'tis the time of day.

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Á MOTHER knelt at midnight, in devotion,
Beside the cradled sleep of a fair child;
From her deep eyes spake out her soul's emotion,
As their glance fell upon the lips that smiled;
And, pressing hers betwixt the locks of light,
She whispered-"Sweet, good night!"

Then to depart, even as the words were spoken,

She turned, yet backward came and looked once more
Into the sunny face ;-some fond dream, broken
In the dark past, her soul was brooding o'er;
And solemnly she murmured-"Who may tell
If now I breathe farewell!

"Thou hadst a sister, boy, with curled hair flowing,
And dimpled cheeks all rosy as thine own;
At eve I pressed them in soft slumber glowing,

And when I kissed them next their touch was stone!
From lip, and eye, and brow, the soul had fled-
My beautiful was dead!

"We missed the merry ring of her sweet laughter
In the changed home with sudden moanings filled;
And thence for evermore through time's hereafter

The deep, warm current of our hope was chilled;
And in earth's beauty-robb'd of earthly trust-
We saw the taint of dust!

"Wilt thou bound forth to meet me in the morning
With the glad step and voice I joy to hear?
Or will death's icy bonds, all others scorning,

Fetter those graceful limbs in darkness here?
The parting words we need who now may tell-
Good night, or-fare thee well?

"Away, away dark fears! all unavailing

Is the grave-haunted watch of the bereft ;
Still for the spirit, in its time of failing,

The written promise of our God is left;
And thou!-art thou not slumbering in His sight?—
Good night sweet love, good night!"


WHERE lurk ye, Sunbeams? The young dawn is here,
But lustreless and chill;

The gorgeous moments of your sway draw near,
Where are you lingering still?

In the East! in the East! 'tis an ocean of haze
That our path to the crest of high Heaven delays,

Yet we come! yet we come! through the barrier we strive,
As the spirit mortality's bondage must rive.
Already faint blushes on morn's pallid cheek

The approach of the Sun to her Palace bespeak :
Soon the Earth will rejoice in a full tide of bliss

When we kindle her brow with the touch of our kiss.

But we bound them with lustre and roused them from

Then on to each structure of beauty we sweep;
From the high-stretching column look down, and behold
How the dank mists and smoke the dense city enfold;
And rallying our splendours, triumphant we pour
Like the steed to the fight, like the surge to the shore!
These are abodes of wealth, but seek ye not

Want's cold and mournful den?
Must it alone by solace be forgot

Which cheers the desert glen?

No! we smile on the poor, as we smile on the rich,
Though oft vainly we strive the worn heart to bewitch.

Then haste, blest Sunbeams! for your warmth we pine! To the door of his hut the ill-fated one crawls,
Tears drown the vales below;

The green boughs sadly to the soil decline;

The streamlets voiceless flow.

We are here! we are here! on the mountains we light,
And chase from their peaks the dark banners of night;
To the broad-spreading valleys we swiftly descend,
O'er the banks of the rivers in gladness we bend,
And the waves sweetly laugh till all dimples they move,
While the flowers turn to welcome us constant in love.
O'er the thick forests now, half affrighted, we brush,
And down the slop'd meadows delightedly rush.

Yet these are all inanimate,-not things
Which vital influence breathe:

Is there aught living that to motion springs
When you around it wreathe?

Ask the fish through the bright-running waters that throng;
Ask the birds in the lone woods just starting to song;
Ask the young lambs that gambol o'er turf wet with dew,
And the flocks which are turning to pasture anew ;
Ask the deer, ask the peasant-and they will reply,
Every heart leaps with rapture when we crowd on high:
Not a thing, not a being but fresh impulse wakes,
When our spell thrills the streamlets, the woodlands, the

But 'tis not scenes like these, which most require
Your cheering aid, but where
Man bids his dwellings, Babel-like, aspire

To cradle withering care!

Round the fanes of his god now our halo we cast;
The proud turrets of Royalty frown'd as we past,

And basks in our rays as we rest on his walls-
Walls so darken'd and bare that we quiver and wane,
For our loveliness mocks desolation and pain.
Ah! we waken a gleam on the face, but within
May be warring with sorrow, or dark clouds of sin!

Now youth comes forth, and to his blooming cheek
Fresh hues and health you call ;

While on bent age's forchead hoar and bleak,
With reverend grace you fall.

We pierce to his side as he sits by the hearth,
And extinguish the flame as we revel in mirth;

But we warm him instead with bright dreams of his prime,
While through sunshine he tracks each past footstep of

On the cottager's porch we caressingly dance
Through his rose-circled lattice half sportively glance,
Till we lure forth his children before us to play,
And recall him once more to the toils of the day.

Earth has array'd her in a robe of light-
O'er all her realms ye glow:

Her myriad beings to their aims unite.
What, Sunbeams, mark ye now?

The infant, whom we the first glimpses have shown
Of a world that to him is untried and unknown:
The bridal, whose pleasure our glories illume,
Where we only are heeded-nought reck'd yet of gloom :
The Grave, to whose shelter all human must wend,-
While the souls of the blest to their Eden ascend,
Where the Sun of Eternity brightens on high,
Till our beams in its lustre wax faded and die!


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