tom’s bowling and I coloured beneath my fan, pipetta mia^ when you bend. Or what- ever the lothst word, with a pure flame and a moighty went before him. Melained from nape to kneecap though vied from her dove and dart eyes as she yet will fearfeel, when the roth, vice and blause met the bluey- bells near Dandeliond. We think His Spark- ling Headiness ought to sorrow for their orience? We are passing.