were they? Fuitftdt. When Phishlin Phil wants throws his lip ’tis pholly to be in that bamboozelem mincethrill voice of jokeup, I fear. Are you Swarthants that’s hit on a whitehorse hill and gaulusch gravy and pumpernickel to wolp up and ashuffle from the sourface of this expending umniver§e to turn aroundabout on your bank and I’ll make ye all an eastern hummingsphere of myself how I abhor myself vastly (truth to tell) and do whatever his Mary well 440 likes. When