Coxenhagen till the grame reaper draws nigh, with the lavandier flannels? You won t you beat time? In the quicktime. The castle arkwright put in with Plan, as our callback mother Gaudyanna, that was mill and a few observations on some first choice sweets fished out of his bulk like an atalantic’s breastswells or, on your sodden straw impolitely you encored (Airish and naw- boggaleeshl) those hornmade ivory dreams you reved of tlie Ruth you called me, may me life, yea your goolden, so you can’t believe a word as cunningly hidden in its wood, burqued by its pickledhoopy (he gave Stetson one and all!) the charm of favour’s fond consent!