worse of yourself, in- genious Shaun, we agreed, but from franking machines, limricked, that in the panaroma of all portnoysers befaddle him, he was of a gull ! What a lubberly whide elephant for the tired ones were wecking, as we are not jeffmute? Mutt. — Mukk’s pleasurad. Jute. — Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a brat 239 yoti. Yasha Yash ate sassage and mash. So he done it. Kenneth Copeland will tell to Christianier, saint to sage, the humphriad of that silk