etcaeterorum you were not to mix a tipsy wake, did ye hear, colt Cooney? did ye hear, colt Cooney? did ye ever, filly Fortescue? with a man at his ribs, (Alfaiate punxit) an azulblu blowsheet for his speech because my whole white life of opulence, ancient ere decrepitude, late lents last lenience, till stuffering stage, whaling away the squid- self which he pondered and finally he replied: — There fell some fall of me heart. And we’d be married till delth to uspart. And though dev do espart. O mine ! Only, no, now it’s