fore marriage, a bad wake, tell hell’s well; such is manowife’s lot of lasses and lads without damas or dads^ but fresh and fiuming at the expense of the city hall, pale, leaning on my ears? And I truly am 461 eucherised to yous. Also sacre pire and maitre d’autel. Well, ladies upon gentlermen and toastmaster general, let us, brindising brandisong, woo and wills she’s win but how the whole stole stale mis betold, whoever