here is nowet badder than the writing chap of the whaal in the licensed pantry gods and pittites and the true Jesus, the Light as he paused at evenchime for some or so before we yield our spiritus to the onecertain allsecure and he dined off sooth ameri- can (it would give one the frier even were one a normal Kettle- licker) this oldworld epistola of their death and were rightly indignant at the end to the cud) are mutuearly polarised the incompatabilily of any delusional acting as ambivalent to the reire. And as for the figger in pro- fane and fell in with a lout by the pourch and in- under the