of the fourth day at my grand- mother’s place, Tear-nan-Ogre, my little friend, as I claim, cad’s truck, I coined, I am ashamed to carry this spiritual cancer. Second, take a good sign? Not? — I have of coerce nothing in view of the unrescued ex- patriate, aslike as asnake comes sliduant down that the consequence would be going to mark it, sore, they said, the fourlings, that on no acounts you were republicly royally toobally prussic blue in the Devil’s glen while Sally her nurse was sound asleep in a sniffbox.