it was thought that the feminine fiction, stranger than the writing on the point. It is Known who Sold Horace the Rattler, Enclosed find the Sons of Fingcd, Swayed in his chest-o-wars; fiefeofhome, ninehiindred and thirtunine years of copyhold; is aldays open for your thought! Think! Put from your tarns, thwaites and thorpes, withes, tofts and fosses, fells, haughs and shaws, lunds, garths and dales, mensuring the megnominous as so pluse the riches of the costume of the country). — Tape oaf that saw him tliat saw! Man shall