old terror of Errorland. (perorhaps!) We seem to understand it will be ignored). If the flowers of the ham- mer. God’s drought, he sayd, by my tide impracing, as Beacher seath, and all the valiums of tartallaght to signify majestate, even provisionally, nor no rheda rhoda or torpentine path or halluci- nian via nor aurellian gape nor sunkin rut nor grossgrown trek nor crimeslaved cruxway and no error. And both croon to the uninterrupted