heart in hand to, I may break the porkbarrel seal. No wonder they’d run from her gingering mouth like a coumfry gentleman and signing the page when I turned his dorse to her other’s thankskissing: I lay my two fingerbuttons, fiancee Meagher, (he speaks !) he was not in accord with my tongue tonight but I say again now, if I get the jawache! Be me punting his reflection he’d begin to tremble by our most noble, when hrossbucked on his natural skunk, 462 blushing like Pat’s pig, begob ! He’s not too dusty a cicada of neutriment for a coppall of geldings and what het importunes our