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Rh But hail to thee, Paulding, the pride of the Backwood!
 * The poet of cabbages,33 log huts, and gin,

God forbid thou shouldst get in the clutches of Blackwood!
 * Oh, Lord! how the wits of old England would grin!

In pathos, oh! who could be flatter or funnier?
 * Were ever descriptions more vulgar and tame?

I wronged thee, by Heaven! when I said there were none here
 * Could cope with great Minshull, thou peer of his fame!

D.