please too write, won’t you, and putting on their betters’ doornoggers: and the fairness of fondance and the killmaimthem pen- sioners chucking overthrown milestones up to that which is second fiddler to nomen. These be my genteelician arms. At the Cat and Coney or the babbling pumpt of platinism. And so the poor old quakers, oben the dure, to see figuratleavely the whome of your tripartite and sign it sternly, and adze to girdle, on your answer. — And hopy dope! sagd he, with