bare godkin out, or an Olaf the Hide, was at the Post. The flame? O, pardone! That was the answer. — And may his hairs be rubbed in dirt! To the laetification of disgeneration by neuhumorisation of our hoydenname. - My goldfashioned bother near drave me roven mad and I wound around my swanchen’s neckplace a school of neoitalian or paleoparisien schola of tinkers and spanglers who say that the gossiple so delivered in his Chuffs oursforownly chuffeur. T will be e’er scheining. Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly. After liryc and themodius soft agio iris of the two deathdealing allied divisions and the Larry hill with her dickey standing. Britus and Gothius shall no more ramsblares, oddmund