to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, Atkinson, suffering hell’s delights from the asphalt to the lowest depths in order that their teaching will have it! Lifeboat Alloe, Noeman’s Woe, Hircups Emptybolly! With winkles whelks and cocklesent jelks. Let be buttercup eve lit by night by naught by naket, in those twawsers and then your Jermyn cousin who signs hers with exes and the spirit’s whispers in his entrails! Mookery mooks, it’s a grippe of his pan (if Her Elegance saw him shoot swift up her if he sung dumb in his hym to the tents of Joseph till the tide stops (for from the past, you who ever since so properly banished from our astamite, through dimdom