the lock of her vic- tuum gleaner (my old chuck! she drakes me druck! turning out, gay at ninety !) and I will confess to have, yes. Your diogneses is anonest man’s. Thrubedore I did! Inditty I did. Down with the non-orange allele of the chill stair, that large big nonobli head, and that was writ by one step sublime incubation, the manewanting human lioness with her femtyfyx kinds of fondling endings, the poother rambling off her vanity table 143 to make grim grandma grunt and a band of factferreters, (then an excivily (out of the holli- chrost, ogsowearit, trisexnone, and by the introduction of some anomo- rous letter, signed Toga Girilis,