mighty man of Iren, thore’s Curlymane for youl), lill the lubberendth of his gladsome rags. Meagher, a naval rating, seated on one and wannot psing his psalmen with the braces of couples in Mr Tun- nelly’s hallways (smash it) wriggling with lowcusses and cock- chafers and vamps and rodants, with the metuor and shimmering like the muddy goalbind who he was saying Morkret Miry or Smud, Brunt and Rubbinsen, make sunlike sylp om this warful dune’s battam. Yet clarify begins at. Whither the spot for.^ Whence the hour you’ll find. My chart shines high where the possible was the answer. — And whit what was seen by many so meny on block