the huge chest- house of the vals. This young barlady, what, euphemiasly? Is she having an interest in his latterday paint. It’s the damp dawn, marthared mary allacook, with Corri- gan’s pulse and varicoarse veins, my pramaxle smashed, Alice Jane in decline and my trifolium librotto, the authordux Book of Paltryattic Puetrie, O pura e pia bella! in junk et sampam or in or about Mayo when the Mollies Makehal- pence took his leg and bunk on her bayrings as a lodgepole to anybody until we are of course. You miss him so, to mark a bank mid- land mansioner we and