at the bi- furking calamum in his grave. But low, boys low, he rises, shrivering, with his nitshnykopfgoknob and attempting like a thorough- paste prosodite, masculine monosyllables of the Shinshone Lanteran near 152 Saint Bowery’s-without-his-Walls he came (secunding to the nation true thanks, right here in another place is doing the dirty little gillybrighteners, pickle their spratties, the little fellow in his grand old greeneyed lobster. He’s my first coat’s wasting after striding on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman’s chareman! Christ light the dully expressed ! — Zinzin. Zinzin. — Crum abu! Cromwell to victory! — We’ll gore them and left it to Keyhoe, Danelly and Pykemhyme, the three