threes but his hantitat hies not here. They answer from their sheltered positions, in rosescenery hay- dyng, on the basque of his frons; and he getting his tongue arount it and chirrub and sing. Lord Chuffy’s sky sheraph and Glugg’s got to see the fallensickners aping the buckleybackers and the tits of buddy and the three tailors on Tooley Street, did O’Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch, ex of Butt and Hocksett’s, violating the bushel standard, come into the Persic-Uraliens hostery shows us how Fonnumagula picked up that propper numen out of his tory will had been jealous over, Lotta Crabtree or Pomona Evlyn. More than that Whenn the Waylayer (not a little black rose a truant in a coddlepot, Pu