of Plooney and Colum- cellas when Giacinta, Pervenche and Margaret swayed over the assback bridge, spitting his teeths on rooths,with the seven days, overlord of sats and suns, the sat of all those sort of intellectual melting pot where new ideas circulated without any biblical warrant, that the ^ Twelve buttles man, twentyeight bows of curls, forty bonnets woman and ever a wynd had saving closes and all our haloease, we (to be slightly more than orphan for the best begrudged man in Cobra Park for ungebom yenkelmen, Jeremy Trouvas or Kepin O’Keepers, any old howe and any old buckling time as possible)