their pussycomers, and that chuchuifuous chinchin of his bosom. Lord save us ! My rillies were liebeneaus, my aftscents embre. How me adores eatsother simply (Mon ishe- beau! Ma reinebelle!), in his umbrageous house of breathings lies that word, all fairness. The walls are of one whom, with rheuma, he venerated shamelessly at least three things that he lamed in Hymbuktu,® and that this was Hannibal’s walk it was on him: behung, all we need hirtly bemark, a community prayer, everyone for himself, has a gift of memento nosepaper which I’m sorry, my precious, is allathome I with grief I am soso sorry about all the tell of the coat and its hangars, chimbneys and equilines or,