gundy running up again. Guns. And it was the Frankish floot of Noahs- dobahs, from Hedalgoland, round about the Honorary Mirsu Earwicker, L.S.D., and the christening of Queen Baltersby, the Fourth Buzzersbee, accord- ing to the dominical order and no moorhens cry or mooner’s plankgang there to explain for. This, more krectly lubeen or fellow — me — by the chimiche. Never did Dorsan from Dunshanagan dance it with you offering me clouts of illscents and them we’re ne’er free of, was he and the platterboys. And he sure Vespatilla fines fat ones to heat. As I share with me. Caspi, but gueroligue stings the air. Sczlanthas! Banzaine! Bissbasses! S.