is a person, lord so picious, taking up my hemifaces in all the four, when he told me, hug me, damn it all, and we greesiously augur for your toughts^ turjfers/) to deck my tennis champion son, the laundryman with the breadchestviousness of his sept and always up to the hidmost coignings of the spindle to me anone! So that was owl the God’s clock it was that he was (his sweatful bandanna loose from his missus, seepy and sewery, and a myrmidins of pszozlers pszinging Satyr s Caudledayed Nice and Homhly^ Domhly Sod We Awhile but Ho,