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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARJ.

SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF AN UNPROTECTED
FEMALE.

SCENE 9.-The Crossing at Charing Cross. The UNPROTECTED FEMALE
is on the foot-way, with three Gentlemen waiting for an "Atlas," two
Ladies expecting a "Brompton," two members of the street sweeping
family, well-known in the neighbourhood, several reduced tradesmen
selling penknives, and a numerous assortment of orange-women.
Atlas Cad. Now, K'nn'g't'n! K'nn'g't'n! (UNPROTECTED FEMALE
-Ma'am-K'nn'g't'n. [Seizes her.
makes a rush to cross). Here you are-
Unprotected Female. Don't, please-I'm not going to Kennington.
Brompton Cad. Here you are, Ma'am; Fulham! Fulham!
Unprotected Female. No, no,-I'm not going to Fulham.
Chelsea Cad. Ch'lsea-Ma'am? Ch'lsea-!"

[They surround UNPROTECTED FEMALE, and argue with her.
Unprotected Female. No! no! I'm not going anywhere-thank you.
Hansom Cabman (whipping sharp out of Parliament Street). Now-
Stoopid-Hoy!

Unprotected Female (escaping back to pavement with some difficulty). Oh! goodness gracious!

Hansom Cabman. 'Ere you are, Ma'am.

Clarence Cubman (off Parliament Street rank). 'Ere you are, Ma'am(to Hansom). Lady don't vont your Jack-in-the-box.

Hansom Cabman. Anyways, it's better nor your pill-box. Unprotected Female (deprecatingly). Oh, I don't want either. I'm not going anywhere. Now, then, I think I can get across. (Makes her first rush, but is arrested by a solemn procession of street-sweeping machines.) Oh, dear, dear!

Eldest of the Crossing-Sweeper Family. Oh, please, Maʼam—do, Ma'am --poor little gurl, Ma'am.

[Executes pantomime with her besom, and winks at ATLAS CONDUCTOR. Unprotected Female. Go away, you bad girl-I saw you laughing just (She prepares for her second rush. now. Now, then. Staid Atlas Passenger (seizes her by the shawl). Stop-you'll be run over! [Two Kennington 'busses turn the corner, racing at full speed. Hansom Cabman. Now, Mum, you 'ailed me. It's a shillin'. Unprotected Female. But I'm going to walk.

Clarence Cabman. No-it was me the lady 'ailed. A shillin', Marm. Unprotected Female. Oh I never did hail either of you-I'm sure I didn't, Sir (to STAID ATLAS PASSENGER). Now, go away, or I'll call somebody.

Hansom Cabman. Oh, you calls yourself a lady-Yah!

Clarence Cabman. I vouldn't be mean, if I vas you-now then! Unprotected Female (wondering what she has done to deserve this). Oh, gracious me! Oh, dear me.

Policeman (lounging round the corner, severely to UNPROTECTED FEMALE). Now, Marm, move on-do-we can't ave any rows here. Unprotected Female. Oh, it's these cabmen-I don't want them, and they will come. (CABMEN retire to their ranks at appearance of Po[She makes a third rush. LICEMAN). Now, I think I can get across. 2nd Member of the Crossing- Sweeper Family (jumping before her). Oh, [Bars the passage. a penny, please please Mum, a penny-a penny, Mum-poor girl, Unprotected Female. Ah! get away, do, you wicked girl! Here's a coal waggon! (Strives in vain to escape over the CROSSING-SWEEPERthe coal waggon gets nearer-She appeals to the fore-horse of the team.) Oh, don't run over me! (The sagacious animal answers the appeal by making room for her to pass back to foot-way.) Thank goodness!

Mum.

3rd Member of Crossing-Sweeper Family. Oh, please Mum-a penny, Mum-poor girl, MumUnprotected Female. Oh, it was you nearly got me run over. a good mind to give you in charge.

I've

Crossing-Sweeper (leering at her). Come now-stash it, old 'ooman.
[Executes a wild dance of defiance with the aid of her besom to the
great delight of the Cads and Cabmen. The coal-waggon has
now defiled across Trafalgar Square.

Unprotected Female. Now, I think I can get across. (She perceives an
Omnibus coming past Spring Gardens (left), and another at the Charing
Cross Hospital (right), and pauses to calculate their distances). Yes, I
think I can get over before that one comes up. (Rushes two steps into
(Her heart misgives her, and
the road.) Oh, no; I don't think I can.
she makes a step in retreat.) Yes, I'm sure I can.
[Makes a violent rush, and comes in terrific contact with a stout gentle-
man who is reading a letter he has just received at the Charing
Cross Post-Office.

Letter reading Gentleman. Confound the woman-hollo, Ma'am-any
damage?
Unprotected Female (a good deal stunned). Oh, I beg your pardon-I
do, indeed-I didn't mean to.
[Apologises earnestly for being run against.
Right-hand 'Bus Driver (who has got up from Spring Gardens.) Now
She rushes to the left.
then stoopid! yah-

7

[She rushes to the right

Left hand 'Bus Driver. Now, then-stoopid! yah!
Both Bus Drivers. Now, then! yah! yah!

[She gives herself up to immediate destruction
Letter reading Gentleman (pulling her on to the little Oasis round the
lamp post). Here, you silly woman-one would think you wanted to be
Unprotected Female. Oh, no, I don't, but I can't get across.
run over-
Several Members of the Crossing-Sweeper Family (whose head-quarters
the Oasis appears to be). Oh, please, Mum, a penny, Mum; poor little
gurl, Mum-oh, do, please!

Unprotected Female. Oh, here's more of those wicked little girls.
How dare you? (The Family leave her to beset an Omnibus, and hold a
(She commences on examination at the same moment down Parliament
friendly chaff with the Conductor.) I wonder if I can get right across now?
Street, along the Strand, across Trafalgar Square, and in other directions.)
I wonder if there's anything coming round the corner? Now, I
[She makes a step.
Irish Beggar Woman (with large family). Ah, thin, Marm, darlin', me
think.
Unprotected Female (pierced with compassion). Poor little things!
and my poor childther!
give you some bread, if we can only get across. (IRISH BEGGAR-WOMAN
And with bare feet, too-pretty dears-Oh, here, poor woman-I'll
proceeds to pass over.) Don't-you'll be run over.
[Pointing to a cab several hundred yards off.
Irish Beggar-Woman. Ah, thin, Marm, darlin'-come along-sorr'
the mischief they 'll do ye at all, at all.
[Proceeds to lug UNPROTECTED FEMALE across.
[Attempts to return.
Unprotected Female. Ob, but, I'm sure.
Crossing Sweeper Family (anxious to join the party to the bun shop). Oh,
please, Mum, bit o' bread, Mum, poor little gurl, Mum-
[UNPROTECTED FEMALE, gaining the pavement on the other side, very
much against her will, and Scene closes.

POKERS AND PANTOMIMES.

THE usual outcry, that things are not as they used to be, is applied now-a-days to everything; and one would almost imagine, that "As you were,' is the only word of command that prudence ought to address to us.

Among other lamentations over the past, we are always inundated about this time of year, with regrets over the fact, that Pantomimes are not what they used to be. We must admit that they are not; and Clown used to produce nearly the we particularly miss the red-hot poker that once played such a promiwhole of his "effects" with this implement; and in fact he presided nent part in every pantomime. over the whole fun of the evening with a red-hot poker, or, in other Words, ruled it with a rod of iron. Poor Pantaloon had the red-hot poker continually at his fingers' ends; and there was not a scene some purpose or other. Sometimes it was brought in, that a verbal throughout the Pantomime in which the poker was not introduced for joke might be made, and that Clown might say, "Come, you want to be stirred up." Or it was required, in order that a beggar might have here's something warm for you." it thrust into his face, with the announcement, "Here, poor fellow;

This Poker, which was kept permanently red-hot, never missed fire, and we can understand how essential it must have seemed to pantomime were chiefly confined to acts of cruelty on the part of Clown towards writers in the days of our forefathers, whose ideas of wit and humour Pantaloon, or pieces of roguery in which both were concerned, or feats The days are, however, gone, when fun could be poked at the public of gluttony, such as the swallowing of an unlimited chain of sausages. with a Poker. Pantomime writers have now so many other irons in the fire, that red-hot fire-irons have quite gone out, and it is very unlikely that they will ever come in again.

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HOW MR. PUNCH SPENT BOXING-NIGHT.

N many occasions Mr. Punch has
lamented the space afforded by his
grave contemporaries to the consi-
deration of the Drama: has as often
lamented the needless expense which
a majestic part of the Press is wont
to incur in the outlay upon dramatic
criticism. No sooner does a new

mime of King Jamie, produced at this theatre.* King Jamie (also by RODWELL,)

"Full of stuff as Highland plaid,
And just as full of crosses,"-
but stuff of wonderful web, and crosses
enlarging into circles of delight. The
pantomime was more successful than any
theless, as revering our institutions; as
future pantomime ever can be. Never-
defending Magna Charta, the Right of
Succession, the Income Tax, and all the
other Palladiums of once Merry England
(when Traitor PEEL was yet in the future)
-we must protest against this irreverent
usage of our kings and queens. Let the
Chamberlain look to it. The revolutionist
in the theatre.
-foiled at Kennington Common-lurks
of his pike, seizes his iron pen. He
The Chartist deprived
cannot overturn our institutions, so he
knocks down the royalty of history as
Clown and Pantaloon, and-but we hope

drama appear, than it is discussed at
monstrous length in daily and weekly
columns, to the exclusion of thrilling
accidents and offences, and the origin
and growth of mighty gooseberries.
Mr. Punch, on the morning of Box-
ing-day, resolved to show to his con-
temporaries a more compendious way
of attending to the interests of the
Drama. When new play houses spring
up like asparagus, it behoves the
journalist to be chary of his atten-
tion; for if he proposes to notice at we have said enough to alarm the weasel
length every work of art-if he rashly vigilance of LORD BREADALBANE, who,
determines to discuss and analyse the as a Scotchman and a Lord Chamberlain,
pretensions of every actor-he will must be particularly sensitive to the sub-
soon have no room whatever to chro-Ject of the pantomime, King Jamie, or
nicle the mightier events of the time. Harlequin and the Magic Fiddle. It is,
Even a popular Murder will be cast however, but bare justice to MR. MAD-
into the shade by a new Tragedy; state that the piece is got up reckless
DOX, the proof-spirited proprietor, to
and a MARIA MANNING neglected in of all expense. Even the fiddle has all
the undue attention bestowed upon its strings. The outlay upon catgut must
merely the Heroine of the Domestic have been tremendous.
Hearth-stone.

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Punch, therefore, laid a wager, against his own pocket, of a supper at the Clarendon (a celebrated hostelry for criticism), that he would alone criticise every new piece presented at every "placed" London Theatre on Boxing-night. It was a quarter to seven when he stepped into his own hackney-cab at 85, Fleet Street, drawn for the occasion by a horse from the Parnassian Stables -a horse now backed by THALIA, and now by MELPOMENE, in their sky-blue riding-habits. The Olympic being a bran-new edifice, with its bloom upon it fresh as May hawthorns, Punch drove first thither. OLYMPIC.-New theatre: commodious, beautiful: light as fairy-land at mid-day, and cosey and convenient as an easy chair after dinner. MRS. MOWATT, the American lily, looking puritybreathing odour. Opening address. The fair lady dropping a diamond in one line, and a pearl to rhyme to it in the other. Delightfully given, retires in a shower of Camellia Japonicas. Two Gents. of Verona gave capital promise, and every appearance that the new pantomime by LEE NELSON-descendant of the immortal HORATIO would be a greater blow than Trafalgar. House crammed-Gallery so crowded, impossible for a single housemaid to get a single apple out of her pocket.

COUNTESS D'ANOIS.

PLANCHE'S" entirely new and original" LYCEUM.-The Island of Jewels-MR. work is the Serpentine Vert of the reviving hand of the adapter, Serpentine Still, under the Vert becomes an Invisible Green Prince sible Green Coat is made "better as -just as, in Holywell Street, an Invinew." Need we say that the Island of Jewe's is gorgeous ? With such a look of reality that the paste would not he detected even by the Keeper of the Crown Jewels? All the actors did more than they could to ensure a success that

was inevitable even before the curtain rose. As for MADAME VESTRIS, it is plain that

"She on honey-dew has fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

She looks more blooming than ever, and warbles like the nightingale, not to be "trod down" by "hungry generations." The author was called for when the piece concluded, and retired amidst a shower of kid gloves-Paris made.

DRURY-LANE.-The boards that GARRICK trod-that KEAN (as Richard) died upon. New lessee. Spirited undertaking! Tenderest wishes of the good and gentle wait upon it. House crammed. MR. ANDERSON'S Shylock worthy of the Asylum of Deaf and Dumb; not a word heard-and there- ADELPHI.-Frankenstein is here made fore, it is to be hoped, not a word thrown away. MISS ADDISON's Portia. Beautiful in fragments killingly droll. The Model Man of MR. as they reached us. Casket-scene magnificent. The Golden Casket, we are informed, from gold PAUL BEDFORD might be improved if sent by a distant dramatist, now picking up the best materials for a new play in California. Row he could only conquer a besetting iniin the gallery-too crowded. MR. ANDERSON offered the malcontents £5 a head and his own dity that ever seems to check his gushing portrait, to make room by quitting the building. Indignantly refused. Storm lulled. Pantomime humour. Why will he not surrender his began. Work of RODWELL, the 1850 Magician. Harlequin and Good Bess nobly handled. Produced genius to the gallery? Why, as the poet in us a melancholy but philosophic thought. In the year 2000, another RODWELL-if Nature has says, will he dwell in inevitable decenstuff for another-may write Harlequin and Good (or Better) Queen Victoria. Pantomime terrific hit cies" for ever? What a rich humourist -full of points as a pincushion. Author called for at conclusion, and bouquets of mistletoe and he might be, but then he is so modest. holly thrown to him! Pressed them to his bosom; and, in the very moment of triumph, pricked WRIGHT'S Frankenstein is wondrous. Six his fingers. children in arms were taken from the pit to the nearest apothecary's, in convulsions of laughter. In common with thousands of WRIGHT's friends, we await the result; but we much fear a verdict of "unconscious infanticide."

HAYMARKET.-Loving Woman (why will woman love in this desperate manner ?) and King Rene's Daughter. Audience wide awake to the pathos of MRS. KEAN; melt marble, and make cast-iron run. New burlesque-The Ninth Statue. Evidently a statue of load-stone; made to draw. Full of hits as a prize-fight. Authors called for. The Gemini BROUGH appear in full Court dresses and are greeted with rounds of applause, and-in recognition of the season-two plum dumplings. Authors bow and exeunt, picking out plums.

STRAND.- Diogenes and his Lantern. Like a red herring; full of salt, with a

PRINCESS'S.-Reader, hast thou ever seen Venice? Hast thou ever seen Venice Preserved? Hast thou ever gazed upon the Lion of St. Mark? Hast thou ever mused upon the pigeons that flutter about his edifice? Hast thou ever marked a gondola? Hast thou ever stood upon the * Mr. Punch begs, with his customary probity, Rialto ? Because, whether thou hast or not, it is no matter, since thou hast seen, or very probably it is not to be taken into account as a part of his to state, that as all this was written a month ago, wilt see a pantomime, which thing originated in Venice, and which matter brings us to the panto-work on Boxing-Night.

PUNCII, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

well-developed tale. A nightly relish for millions. MRS. STIRLING as Minerva. An owl that makes night lovely.

MADAME TUSSAUD.-This instructive establishment is not to be overlooked. Punch, in common with his daily contemporaries, treats the place with his best deference, and on boxing-night visited it accordingly. The Chamber of Horrors was tastefully decorated with holly, and the band played a new composition," The Bermondsey Polka," which seemed to impart a thrilling satisfaction to the audience. Let us not omit to state that MADAME T., with her customary taste, had caused a large bunch of mistletoe to be suspended over the figure of MARIA MANNING, with permission-price 3d. extra-to any of the company to salute the waxen individual, a permission that was gladly purchased by numerous spectators.

Some of the Eastern Theatres, and the Surrey Houses, Punch-he confesses it-did not visit; but he understood, on the best authority, that they were all crowded. The Victoria, for instance, was so crammed, that the proprietor had to provide beds out of the house for those who would not, during the domestic drama, sleep upon the premises.

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9

LEGAL LOVE-LETTERS.

"MR. PUNCH, "The Law in regard to Breach of Promise of Marriage' has long been in an unsatisfactory state. Allow me, through your columns, to give the Legislature a hint on this subject. Let no promissory note, or other writing, engaging the subscriber to marry the party therein addressed or specified, be considered valid or binding unless tamped. The amount of the stamp should be proportionate to that of the income-tax paid by the writer, to prevent the abuse of cheap stamps by the unprincipled rich. Let my proposal be adopted, and the consequences will be:-1. The most unsuspecting female will put no trust in a billet-doux which is not stamped. 2. The expense attending false promises of marriage will discourage those base attempts at deception. 3. Marriages will become generally more rational, because men will think twice before signing an engagement which will at any rate cost them a stamp. 4. The stamp-duty on marriage-promises will be a source of revenue to Government, and of income to your humble Servant,

"A SOLICITOR AND DISTRIBUTOR OF STAMPS."

FOWL IS FARE AND FARE IS FOWL.

ENGLAND is at this moment undergoing a glut of poultry, for every description of fowl, from the guinea to the eighteenpenny, is being brought over in spite of foul winds from the Continent. Such has been the arrival of Turkeys, that the markets appeared to have a great Turkey carpet laid down over them.

The arrival of chickens has been something so extraordinary as to cause a glut, which has led to an awful panic, and the dealers have become so chicken-hearted as to be afraid to speculate. We, however, hope the consumption will be quite equal to the supply, and that no fowl will be left on the hands of the fair dealers.

THE FINEST COLUMN IN THE WORLD.

BRITANNIA is a great deal happier in her heroes than she is in her attempts to perpetuate their memory. It is fortunate that the actions of her great men suffice for their own monuments. Those which she erects to them do nothing for their fame except to associate it with something ludicrous. All that can be said to account for this is, that there is a stone-masonry in British Art. It were better, henceforth, to give an altogether new form to these testimonials. Let them no longer consist of sculptural and architectural monstrosities; but cast them, in every instance, in the shape of a column, to be provided by the largest amount of subscription obtainable: and that the memorial may be as lasting, and at the same time as magnificent as possible, let the column set up in honour of the soldier-the statesman-the poet-be a column of Punch.

Gunpowder Honours.

WE condole with the DUCHESS OF KENT, the victim of noise. She takes boat at Osborne, and steams into Portsmouth, when "HER MAJESTY'S ship Victory and the garrison battery fire royal salutes!" Now, without waiting to calculate the value of the powder-the price of so many wheaten loaves blown from the cannon's mouth, to split the ears of the Duchess-we may ask, is it not a monster folly that an elderly gentlewoman cannot go to and fro to pay a visit to her children and grandchildren without being thus rudely and expensively saluted by the "adamantine lips" of 42 pounders? We think all powder wasted upon a lady-pearl powder, of course, excepted.

THE Farmer's story par excellence, is the upper story of No. 17, Bond Street, where the Protectionists have got rather a large rocm, with rather a small company. Protection has for some time occupied what in England we term a floor, and the Scotch call a flat-the latter designation being in this case the more appropriate.

We believe a ruined farmer is always on the premises to receive people who come to be melancholy over the fate of Agriculture; and, as there are other lodgers in the house, we think it would be only fair to have "Pull the top bell for Protection," inscribed on the door-post. We suspect that the British CERES must be a very brazen-faced creature, or she would never cry out to be placed again under Protection; which, if it did not ruin her in means, most certainly destroyed her character. We cannot help seeing, nevertheless, that she is better off, as well as more respectable, without the protection to which she foolishly wishes to return; for when an alliance with Agriculture is in the Market, where there is a farm for sale, the competition is quite large enough to show that the connection is not considered by any means ruinous.

Looking on the two pictures our artist has here drawn, it is difficult to reconcile one with the other; for while taking a farm seems to be the object of the most eager desire, to be a farmer would appear to be certain bankruptcy, despair, and ruin.

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Reduced Circumstances.

WE have seen some very gratifying accounts of the reduction of rents by various landlords, but if there is any actual merit in receiving a reduced rent, we think there is not a more meritorious person in this respect than MR. O'CONNELL. He has been lately taking such a very on much longer in the same direction, and at his weekly audits he will reduced rent, that it will amount to a reductio ad absurdum, if it goes "Thank you for nothing," to his auditors. Every at last have to say, rent-day exhibits some diminution in the receipts, and it is to be exfrom the rent, but will take themselves off altogether. pected that before long the subscribers will not only take off something

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:

SOMEBODY Some time ago offered some tremendous sum for a new pas of every character. The subject will at once suggest the pas de pleasure, as the summum bonum to which he aspired, and we are sure that the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre would be equally liberal in his offer for a new idea for a ballet. The elements have already been exhausted Water has been dried up in Ondine, Fire has been burnt out in Alma, Earth has been fully occupied as a ground-work, until there is not an inch left of which a ballet-master can take a building lease for the construction of his plot, and when he asks, "Where" he can lay his foundations? Echo answers, "Nowhere!" In this dilemma commerce seems still to present an opening to the imagination, and the Linendrapery business offers the most appropriate field, for it admits of the introduction of an unlimited number of danseuses and a variety of

bankruptcy by the proprietor, and the pas de fascination by the assistants with their demoniac scrolls, which, while embracing all the horrors of the cheap ticketing system, lure on to their own loss the crowd of female purchasers. It might be too painful to introduce among the figurantes the half starved work-people, whose ill-paid labour constitutes in reality the Ruinous Sacrifice inscribed on the placards, but if the reality were not too shocking, a grand pas des victimes would be an "effective" novelty. The theme, if chosen for a ballet, might perhaps bring under the notice of the aristocratic female frequenters of the Opera, the horrors entailed by the cheap Alarming Failure System, and with this hope alone the experiment would be well worth a trial.

THE poet, in an idle dream

Lull'd by the sound of fancy's gong,
Sought in his visions for a theme
Whereon to found a simple song.
Upon his ear there chanced to fall
A shrill, and old familiar cry;
The Butcher at his market stall,

THE BUTCHER.

Was shouting, "What d'you buy, buy, buy ?"

As quick as the electric spark

Runs o'er the telegraphic wires,

The poet's mind no longer dark,

Blazed with imagination's fires;

The Butcher! "Twas a happy thought:
It seem'd a subject to supply.
"Tis often thus-mere chance has brought
What labour ne'er could buy, buy, buy.

The Butcher, as he walks along,

Looks with an anxious eye about;
Conscience accuses him of wrong,

He knows the world has found him out.
Stern retribution comes at last;

The trembling Butcher heaves a sigh,
And to the prices of the past,

He sobs a sad "Good bye, bye, bye."

No more the Butcher gaily drops
His customer a smile and bow;

There's such a fearful fall in chops,
The Butcher's quite chap-fallen now.

Migration of Fair and Fowl.

THE superabundance of those dear creatures, of whom it is hard to conceive that there could be too many, namely, our female population, being discussed at a moderate tea-party, a mild wag present predicted that there would be a migration of the Ducks. Whereupon another wag, of a bitterer turn, remarked that it would be better if there were a migration of the Geese.

In every joint a shock he feels,

His shoulders are no longer high;
Upon his legs a weakness steals,
They'll fall much lower by-and-bye.
Some would-be stoics of the craft,
Philosophers of block and steel,
Have at the outcry wildly laugh'd
And scorn at lower price to deal.
Of" stickings" and of bone they prate,
To lay asleep suspicious eye;
We'll "stick" to them at any rate,
Before we go to by-by, buy.

How cowardice and guilt and shame
Leap to perdition 'ere they look!
The Butcher thus augments his blame,
By inculpation of the cook.

Of decency how blunt the sense,
When to a charge the sole reply
Is owning to a fresh offence,
We had not thought of by-the-bye.
Oblivion's gulf shall open wide;
An overflow from Lethe's tanks
Under a deep obscure shall hide

Our Butcher's long arrear of pranks.
Fair prices let him charge alone,

From him we 'll take our whole supply;
Avoiding but contention's bone

In every joint we buy, buy, buy.

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