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THE COUNTRY PASTOR.*

An! knew he but his happiness, of ment Not the least happy he, who, free from broils And base ambition, vain and bustling pomp, Amid a friendly cure, and competence, Tastes the pure pleasures of parochial life. What though no crowd of clients, at his gate, To falsehood and injustice bribe his tongue, And flatter into guilt?-what though no bright And gilded prospects lure ambition on To legislative pride, or chair of state? What though no golden dreams entice his mind To burrow, with the mole, in dirt and mire? What though no splendid villa, Eden'd round With gardens of enchantment, walks of state, And all the grandeur of superfluous wealth, Invite the passenger to stay his steed,

And ask the liveried foot-boy," Who dwells here?” What though no swarms, around his sumptuous board,

Of soothing flatterers, humming in the shine
Of opulence, and honey from its flowers
Devouring, till their time arrives to sting,
Inflate his mind; his virtues round the year
Repeating, and his faults, with microscope
Inverted, lessen, till they steal from sight?-
Yet from the dire temptations these present
His state is free; temptations, few can stem;
Temptations, by whose sweeping torrent hurl'd
Down the dire steep of guilt, unceasing fall
Sad victims, thousands of the brightest minds
That time's dark reign adorn; minds, to whose grasp
Heaven seems most freely offer'd; to man's eye,
Most hopeful candidates for angels' joys.

His lot, that wealth, and power, and pride forbids,
Forbids him to become the tool of fraud,
Injustice, misery, ruin; saves his soul
From all the needless labours, griefs, and cares,
That avarice and ambition agonize;

attack

From those cold nerves of wealth, that, palsied, feel
No anguish, but its own; and ceaseless lead
To thousand meannesses, as gain allures.
Though oft compell'd to meet the gross
Of shameless ridicule and towering pride,
Sufficient good is his; good, real, pure,
With guilt unmingled. Rarely forced from home,
Around his board his wife and children smile;
Communion sweetest, nature here can give,
Each fond endearment, office of delight,
With love and duty blending. Such the joy
My bosom oft has known. His, too, the task
To rear the infant plants that bud around;
To ope their little minds to truth's pure light;
To take them by the hand, and lead them on
In that straight, narrow road where virtue walks;
To guard them from a vain, deceiving world,

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And point their course to realms of promised life.
His too the esteem of those who weekly hear
His words of truth divine; unnumber'd acts
Of real love attesting to his
eye
Their filial tenderness. Where'er he walks,
The friendly welcome and inviting smile
Wait on his steps, and breathe a kindred joy.

Oft too in friendliest association join'd,
He greets his brethren, with a flowing heart,
Flowing with virtue; all rejoiced to meet,
And all reluctant parting; every aim,
Benevolent, aiding with purpose kind;
While, season'd with unblemish'd cheerfulness,
Far distant from the tainted mirth of vice,
Their hearts disclose each contemplation sweet
Of things divine; and blend in friendship pure,
Friendship sublimed by piety and love.

All virtue's friends are his: the good, the just,
The pious, to his house their visits pay,
And converse high hold of the true, the fair,
The wonderful, the moral, the divine:
Of saints and prophets, patterns bright of truth,
Lent to a world of sin, to teach mankind
How virtue in that world can live and shine;
Of learning's varied realms; of Nature's works;
And that bless'd book which gilds man's darksome
way

With light from heaven; of bless'd Messiah's throne
And kingdom; prophecies divine fulfill'd,
And prophecies more glorious yet to come
In renovated days; of that bright world,
And all the happy trains which that bright world
Inhabit, whither virtue's sons are gone:
While God the whole inspires, adorns, exalts;
The source, the end, the substance, and the soul.
This too the task, the bless'd, the useful task,
To invigour order, justice, law, and rule;
Peace to extend, and bid contention cease;
To teach the words of life; to lead mankind
Back from the wild of guilt and brink of wo
To virtue's house and family; faith, hope,
And joy to inspire; to warm the soul
With love to God and man; to cheer the sad,
To fix the doubting, rouse the languid heart;
The wandering to restore; to spread with down
The thorny bed of death; console the poor,
Departing mind, and aid its lingering wing.

To him her choicest pages Truth expands,
Unceasing, where the soul-entrancing scenes
Poetic fiction boasts are real all:

Where beauty, novelty, and grandeur wear
Superior charms, and moral worlds unfold
Sublimities transporting and divine.

Not all the scenes Philosophy can boast, Though them with nobler truths he ceaseless blends, Compare with these. They, as they found the mind, Still leave it; more inform'd, but not more wise. These wiser, nobler, better, make the man.

Thus every happy mean of solid good His life, his studies, and profession yield. With motives hourly new, each rolling day Allures, through wisdom's path and truth's fair field, His feet to yonder skies. Before him heaven Shines bright, the scope sublime of all his prayers, The meed of every sorrow, pain, and toil.

THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.*

WHERE yonder humble spire salutes the eye, Its vane slow-turning in the liquid sky, Where, in light gambols, healthy striplings sport, Ambitious learning builds her outer court; A grave preceptor, there, her usher stands, And rules without a rod her little bands. Some half-grown sprigs of learning graced his brow: Little he knew, though much he wish'd to know; Enchanted hung o'er VIRGIL's honey'd lay, And smiled to see desipient HORACE play; Glean'd scraps of Greek; and, curious, traced afar, Through POPE's clear glass the bright Mæonian star. Yet oft his students at his wisdom stared, For many a student to his side repair'd; Surprised, they heard him DILWORTH's knots untie, And tell what lands beyond the Atlantic lie.

Many his faults; his virtues small and few; Some little good he did, or strove to do; Laborious still, he taught the early mind, And urged to manners meek and thoughts refined; Truth he impress'd, and every virtue praised; While infant eyes in wondering silence gazed; The worth of time would day by day unfold, And tell them every hour was made of gold.

THE BATTLE OF AI.t

Now near the burning domes the squadrons stood,
Their breasts impatient for the scenes of blood:
On every face a death-like glimmer sate,
The unbless'd harbinger of instant fate. [spires,
High through the gloom, in pale and dreadful
Rose the long terrors of the dark-red fires;
Torches, and torrent sparks, by whirlwinds driven,
Stream'd through the smoke, and fired the clouded
heaven;

As oft tall turrets sunk, with rushing sound,
Broad flames burst forth, and sweep the ethereal

round;

The bright expansion lighten'd all the scene,
And deeper shadows lengthen'd o'er the green.
Loud through the walls, that cast a golden gleam,
Crown'd with tall pyramids of bending flame,
As thunders rumble down the darkening vales,
Roll'd the deep, solemn voice of rushing gales:
The bands, admiring, saw the wondrous sight,
And expectation trembled for the fight.

At once the sounding clarion breathed alarms;
Wide from the forest burst the flash of arms;
Thick gleam'd the helms; and o'er astonish'd fields,
Like thousand meteors rose the flame-bright shields.
In gloomy pomp, to furious combat roll'd [gold;
Ranks sheath'd in mail, and chiefs in glimmering
In floating lustre bounds the dim-seen steed,
And cars unfinish'd, swift to cars succeed:
From all the host ascends a dark-red glare,
Here in full blaze, in distant twinklings there;

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Slow waves the dreadful light, as round the shore Night's solemn blasts with deep confusion roar: So rush'd the footsteps of the embattled train, And send an awful murmur o'er the plain.

Tall in the opposing van, bold IRAD stood, And bid the clarion sound the voice of blood. Loud blew the trumpet on the sweeping gales, Rock'd the deep groves, and echoed round the vales; A ceaseless murmur all the concave fills, Waves through the quivering camp, and trembles o'er the hills.

High in the gloomy blaze the standards flew ;
The impatient youth his burnish'd falchion drew;
Ten thousand swords his eager bands display'd,
And crimson terrors danced on every blade.
With equal rage, the bold, Hazorian train
Pour'd a wide deluge o'er the shadowy plain;
Loud rose the songs of war, loud clang'd the shields,
Dread shouts of vengeance shook the shuddering
fields;

With mingled din, shrill, martial music rings,
And swift to combat each fierce hero springs.
So broad, and dark, a midnight storm ascends,
Bursts on the main, and trembling nature rends;
The red foam burns, the watery mountains rise,
One deep, unmeasured thunder heaves the skies;
The bark drives lonely; shivering and forlorn,
The poor, sad sailors wish the lingering morn:
Not with less fury rush'd the vengeful train;
Not with less tumult roar'd the embattled plain.
Now in the oak's black shade they fought conceal'd;
And now they shouted through the open field;
The long, pale splendours of the curling flame
Cast o'er their polish'd arms a livid gleam;
An umber'd lustre floated round their way,
And lighted falchions to the fierce affray.
Now the swift chariots 'gainst the stubborn oak
Dash'd; and the earth re-echoes to the shock.
From shade to shade the forms tremendous stream,
And their arms flash a momentary flame.
Mid hollow tombs as fleets an airy train,
Lost in the skies, or fading o'er the plain;
So visionary shapes, around the fight,
Shoot through the gloom, and vanish from the sight;
Through twilight paths the maddening coursers
bound,

The shrill swords crack, the clashing shields resound.
There, lost in grandeur, might the eye behold
The dark-red glimmerings of the steel and gold;
The chief; the steed; the nimbly-rushing car;
And all the horrors of the gloomy war.

Here the thick clouds, with purple lustre bright, Spread o'er the long, long host, and gradual sunk

in night;

Here half the world was wrapp'd in rolling fires,
And dreadful valleys sunk between the spires.
Swift ran black forms across the livid flame,
And oaks waved slowly in the trembling beam:
Loud rose the mingled noise; with hollow sound,
Deep rolling whirlwinds roar, and thundering
flames resound.

As drives a blast along the midnight heath,
Rush'd raging IRAD on the scenes of death;
High o'er his shoulder gleam'd his brandish'd blade,
And scatter'd ruin round the twilight shade.

Full on a giant hero's sweeping car
He pour'd the tempest of resistless war;
His twinkling lance the heathen raised on high,
And hurl'd it, fruitless, through the gloomy sky;
From the bold youth the maddening coursers wheel,
Gash'd by the vengeance of his slaughtering steel;
"Twixt two tall oaks the helpless chief they drew;
The shrill car dash'd; the crack'd wheels rattling
flew ;

Crush'd in his arms, to rise he strove in vain,
And lay unpitied on the dreary plain.

THE LAMENTATION OF SELIMA.

CANST thou forget, when, call'd from southern bowers,

Love tuned the groves, and spring awaked the flowers,

How, loosed from slumbers by the morning ray,
O'er balmy plains we bent our frequent way?
On thy fond arm, with pleasing gaze, I hung,
And heard sweet music murmur o'er thy tongue;
Hand lock'd in hand, with gentle ardour press'd,
Pour'd soft emotions through the heaving breast;
In magic transport heart with heart entwined,
And in sweet languor lost the melting mind.

"T was then thy voice, attuned to wisdom's lay,
Show'd fairer worlds, and traced the immortal way;
In virtue's pleasing paths my footsteps tried,
My sweet companion and my skilful guide;
Through varied knowledge taught my mind to soar,
Search hidden truths, and new-found walks explore:
While still the tale, by nature learn'd to rove,
Slid, unperceived, to scenes of happy love.
Till, weak and lost, the faltering converse fell,
And eyes disclosed what eyes alone could tell;
In rapturous tumult bade the passions roll,
And spoke the living language of the soul.
With what fond hope, through many a blissful hour,
We gave the soul to fancy's pleasing power;
Lost in the magic of that sweet employ
To build gay scenes, and fashion future joy!
We saw mild peace o'er fair Canaan rise,
And shower her pleasures from benignant skies.
On airy hills our happy mansion rose,
Built but for joy, nor room reserved for woes.
Round the calm solitude, with ceaseless song,
Soft roll'd domestic ecstasy along:
Sweet as the sleep of innocence, the day,
By raptures number'd, lightly danced away:
To love, to bliss, the blended soul was given,
And each, too happy, ask'd no brighter heaven.
Yet then, even then, my trembling thoughts would

rove,

And steal an hour from IRAD, and from love,
Through dread futurity all anxious roam,
And cast a mournful glance on ills to come.

And must the hours in ceaseless anguish roll?
Must no soft sunshine cheer my clouded soul?
Spring charm around me brightest scenes, in vain,
And youth's angelic visions wake to pain!
O, come once more; with fond endearments come!
Burst the cold prison of the sullen tomb;

Through favourite walks thy chosen maid attend, Where well known shades for thee their branches bend;

Shed the sweet poison from thy speaking eye,
And look those raptures lifeless words deny!
Still be the tale rehearsed, that ne'er could tire,
But, told each eve, fresh pleasure could inspire;
Still hoped those scenes which love and fancy drew,
But, drawn a thousand times, were ever new!

Again all bright shall glow the morning beam,
Again soft suns dissolve the frozen stream,
Spring call young breezes from the southern skies,
And, clothed in splendour, flowery millions rise-
In vain to thee! No morn's indulgent ray
Warms the cold mansion of thy slumbering clay.
No mild, ethereal gale, with tepid wing,
Shall fan thy locks, or waft approaching spring:
Unfelt, unknown, shall breathe the rich perfume,
And unheard music wave around thy tomb.

A cold, dumb, dead repose invests thee round;
Still as a void, ere Nature form'd a sound.
O'er thy dark region, pierced by no kind ray,
Slow roll the long, oblivious hours away.
In these wide walks, this solitary round,
Where the pale moonbeam lights the glimmering
ground,

At each sad turn, I view thy spirit come,
And glide, half-seen, behind a neighbouring tomb;
With visionary hand, forbid my stay,
Look o'er the grave, and beckon me away.

PREDICTION TO JOSHUA RELATIVE TO AMERICA.

FAR o'er yon azure main thy view extend, Where seas and skies in blue confusion blend: Lo, there a mighty realm, by Heaven design'd The last retreat for poor, oppress'd mankind; Form'd with that pomp which marks the hand

divine,

And clothes yon vault where worlds unnumber'd shine.

Here spacious plains in solemn grandeur spread,
Here cloudy forests cast eternal shade;
Rich valleys wind, the sky-tall mountains brave,
And inland seas for commerce spread the wave.
With nobler floods the sea-like rivers roll,
And fairer lustre purples round the pole.
Here, warm'd by happy suns, gay mines unfold
The useful iron and the lasting gold;
Pure, changing gems in silence learn to glow,
And mock the splendours of the covenant bow.
On countless hills, by savage footsteps trod,
That smile to see the future harvest nod,
In glad succession plants unnumber'd bloom,
And flowers unnumber'd breathe a rich perfume.
Hence life once more a length of days shall claim,
And health, reviving, light her purple flame.
Far from all realms this world imperial lies,
Seas roll between, and threat'ning tempests rise.
Alike removed beyond ambition's pale,
And the bold pinions of the venturous sail;

Till circling years the destined period bring,
And a new MOSES lift the daring wing,
Through trackless seas an unknown flight explores,
And hails a new Canaan's promised shores.
On yon far strand behold that little train
Ascending venturous o'er the unmeasured main ;
No dangers fright, no ills the course delay;
"Tis virtue prompts, and God directs the way.
Speed-speed, ye sons of truth! let Heaven befriend,
Let angels waft you, and let peace attend.
O! smile, thou sky serene; ye storms, retire;
And airs of Eden every sail inspire.
Swift o'er the main behold the canvass fly,
And fade and fade beneath the farthest sky;
See verdant fields the changing waste unfold;
See sudden harvests dress the plains in gold;
In lofty walls the moving rocks ascend,
And dancing woods to spires and temples bend.
Here empire's last and brightest throne shall rise,
And Peace, and Right, and Freedom greet the
skies;

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To morn's far realms her trading ships shall sail,
Or lift their canvass to the evening gale:
In wisdom's walks her sons ambitious soar,
Tread starry fields, and untried scenes explore.
And, hark! what strange, what solemn breaking
strain

Swells, wildly murmuring, o'er the far, far main!
Down Time's long, lessening vale the notes decay,
And, lost in distant ages, roll away.

EVENING AFTER A BATTLE.

ABOVE tall western hills, the light of day
Shot far the splendours of his golden ray;
Bright from the storm, with tenfold grace he smiled,
The tumult soften'd, and the world grew mild.
With pomp transcendent, robed in heavenly dyes,
Arch'd the clear rainbow round the orient skies;
Its changeless form, its hues of beam divine—
Fair type of truth and beauty-endless shine
Around the expanse, with thousand splendours rare;
Gay clouds sail wanton through the kindling air;
From shade to shade unnumber'd tinctures blend,
Unnumber'd forms of wondrous light extend;
In pride stupendous, glittering walls aspire,
Graced with bright domes, and crown'd with towers
of fire;

On cliffs cliffs burn; o'er mountains mountains roll:
A burst of glory spreads from pole to pole:
Rapt with the splendour, every songster sings,
Tops the high bough, and claps his glistening wings;
With new-born green reviving nature blooms,
And sweeter fragrance freshening air perfumes.

Far south the storm withdrew its troubled reign,
Descending twilight dimm'd the dusky plain;
"Black night arose; her curtains hid the ground:
Less roar'd, and less, the thunder's solemn sound;
The bended lightning shot a brighter stream,
Or wrapp'd all heaven in one wide, mantling flame;
By turns, o'er plains, and woods, and mountains
spread

Faint, yellow glimmerings, and a deeper shade.

From parting clouds, the moon out-breaking shone,
And sate, sole empress, on her silver throne;
In clear, full beauty, round all nature smiled,
And claimed, o'er heaven and earth, dominion mild;
With humbler glory, stars her court attend,
And bless'd, and union'd, silent lustre blend.

COLUMBIA.

COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world and the child of the skies;
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold.
Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time;
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name;
Be freedom and science, and virtue thy fame.

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire;
Whelm nations in blood and wrap cities in fire;
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm; for a world be thy laws,
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star;

New bards and new sages, unrivall'd, shall soar
To fame, unextinguish'd when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind';
Here, grateful, to Heaven with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.
Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And genius and beauty in harmony blend;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire:
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined,
And virtue's bright image enstamp'd on the mind,
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow,
And light up a smile in the aspect of wo.

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display,
The nations admire, and the ocean obey;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,
And the east and the south yield their spices and
gold.

As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall flow,

And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow,
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.
Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd-
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired,
The winds ceased to murmur, the thunders expired;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."

DAVID HUMPHREYS.

[Born 1753. Died 1818.]

DAVID HUMPHREYS, LL. D., was the son of a Congregational clergyman, at Derby, in Connecticut, where he was born in 1753. He was educated at Yale College, with DWIGHT, TRUMBULL, and BARLOW, and soon after being graduated, in 1771, joined the revolutionary army, under General PARSONS, with the rank of captain. He was for several years attached to the staff of General PUTNAM, and in 1780 was appointed aid-de-camp to General WASHINGTON, with the rank of colonel. He continued in the military family of the commander-in-chief until the close of the war, enjoying his friendship and confidence, and afterward accompanied him to Mount Vernon, where he remained until 1784, when he went abroad with FRANKLIN, ADAMS, and JEFFERSON, who were appointed commissioners to negotiate treaties of commerce with foreign powers, as their secretary of legation.* Soon after his return to the United States, in 1786, he was elected by the citizens of his native town a member of the Legislature of Connecticut, and by that body was appointed to command a regiment to be raised by order of the national government. On receiving his commission, Colonel HUMPHREYS established his head-quarters and recruiting rendezvous at Hartford; and there renewed his intimacy with his old friends TRUMBULL and BARLOW, with whom, and Doctor LEMUEL HOPKINS, he engaged in writing the Anarchiad," a political satire, in imitation of the

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Rolliad," a work attributed to SHERIDAN and others, which he had seen in London. He retained his commission until the suppression of the insurrection in 1787, and in the following year accepted an invitation to visit Mount Vernon, where he continued to reside until he was appointed minister to Portugal, in 1790. He remained in Lisbon seven years, at the end of which period he was transferred to the court of Madrid, and in 1802, when Mr. PINCKNEY was made minister to Spain, returned to the United States. From 1802 to 1812, he devoted his attention to agricultural and manufacturing pursuits; and on the breaking out of the second war

In a letter to Doctor FRANKLIN, written soon after the appointment of HUMPHREYS to this office, General WASHINGTON, says: "His zeal in the cause of his country, his good sense, prudence, and attachment to me, have rendered him dear to me; and I persuade myself you will find no confidence which you may think proper to repose in him, misplaced. He possesses an excellent heart, good natural and acquired abilities, and sterling integrity, as well as sobriety, and an obliging disposition. A full conviction of his possessing all these good qualities makes me less scrupulous of recommending him to your patronage and friendship."-SPARKS'S Life of Washington, vol. ix. p. 46.

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with Great Britain, was appointed commander of the militia of Connecticut, with the rank of brigadier-general. His public services terminated with the limitation of that appointment. He died at New Haven, on the twenty-first day of February, 1818, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. The principal poems of Colonel HUMPHREYS "Address to the Armies of the United States," written in 1772, while he was in the army; "A Poem on the Happiness of America," written during his residence in London and Paris, as secretary of legation; "The Widow of Malabar, or The Tyranny of Custom, a Tragedy, imitated from the French of M. LE MIERRE," writ ten at Mount Vernon; and a "Poem on Agriculture," written while he was minister at the court of Lisbon. The "Address to the Armies of the United States" passed through many edi- ! tions in this country and in Europe, and was translated into the French language by the Marquis de CHATELLUX, and favourably noticed in the Parisian gazettes. The "Poem on the Happiness of America" was reprinted nine times in three years; and the "Widow of Malabar" is said, in the dedication of it to the author of McFingal," to have met with "extraordinary success" on the stage. The "Miscellaneous Works of Colonel HUMPHREYS" were published in an octavo volume, in New York, in 1790, and again in 1804. The Works contain, besides the author's poems, an interesting biography of his early friend and commander, General PUTNAM, and several orations and other prose compositions. They are dedicated to the Duke de ROCHEFOUCAULT, who had been his intimate friend in France. In the dedication he says: "In presenting for your amusement the trifles which have been composed during my leisure hours, I assume nothing beyond the negative merit of not having ever writ ten any thing unfavourable to the interests of religion, humanity, and virtue." He seems to have aimed only at an elegant mediocrity, and his pieces are generally simple and correct, in thought and language. He was one of the "four bards with Scripture names," satirized in some verses published in London, commencing

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"David and Jonathan, Joel and Timothy,

Over the water, set up the hymn of the"-etc.,

and is generally classed among the "poets of the Revolution." The popularity he enjoyed while he lived, and his connection with TRUMBULL, BARLOW, and DWIGHT, justify the introduction of a sketch of his history and writings into this volume. The following extracts exhibit his style. The first alludes to the departure of the British fleet from New York.

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