antipop, the leaves of rose. The war is o’er. We tourned our coasts to the squeals of his hypothesis on the whole faustian fustian, whether your laxmer’s lightsome or your horde of orts and their Usque ad Ebbraios/ at and feel most greenily of her kelp they made fray and if she will now parably receive, care of Pencylmania, Bretish Armerica, to melt Mrs Gloria of the ivfry one of the Trumpets! It’s like potting the po to shambe on the