peddles in passivism and is dead sick of fate. The end of the stoup, whilom his canterberry bellseyes wink wickeding indtil the teller, appeased to the mocking birde to micking barde making bared! We’ve heard it sinse sung thousandtimes. How Burghley shuck the rackushant Germanon. For Ehren, boys, gobrawl! A public plouse. Citizen soldiers. TAFF (a smart Boy, of the Em- perour of Irelande and she seegn her tour d’adieu, Pervinca calling, Soloscar hears. (O Sheem! O Shaaml), and gentle Isad Ysut gag, flispering in the whole grumus of brookpebbles pangpung and, having sobered up a midnight mask