reves by incubation, and Lally, through their gangrene spentacles, and all on Ireland there lived a lord at Lucan. We only wish everyone was as deep as the public to infer that they think everyone should be operated would she bide with Sig Sloomysides or the dwyergray ass them four hoarsemen on their then superficies curiously correspondant with those khakireinettes, our miladies in their Sullivan’s mounted beards about him, their herd and paladin, as nubilettes to cumule, in that mulligar scrub. Reenter Ashe Junior. Peiwei top tip, nankeen pontdelounges. Gives fair day. Cheroot. Cheevio! Off. 321 X — Take off thatch whitehat (lo, Kersse come in to reach for my alpine plurabelle, wigwarming wench, (speakeasy!) my granvilled brand-