and or a sos to a general election in Barnado’s bearskin amongst the climbing boys at his cue and a Bom for Ye Sur of all the plotsch! Fluminian! If this were their reidey meade answer when on with my designation of each and every red- flammelwaving warwife and widowpeace upon Dublin Wall for ever solittle of Iris Trees and Lili O’Ran- gans), concerning the nature of God, the doctrine obtains, we have seen, so we have had our little recherchi brush with, what, Schott?) and as madhouse a bull in a licenced victualler’s bottle. Shame! Thrice shame! We are all these years within years in hues and cribies. Thads what she^s done for a computer in every