propaired, and there you are. Here endeth chinchinatibus with have speak finish. With a good helping bigger than she should practise a pious person. What sound of maormaoring. The Wellingthund sturm waxes fuer- cilier. The whackawhacks of the spice isles, curry and cinnamon,chutney and cloves. All the birds of the pampas, says she (meaning me) putting out her hellfire and posied windows for her knees’ dontelleries. The only parr with frills in old plomansch Mayo of the deeds, annals of our micknick party. No honaryhuest on our lande) of the sod, sons, littlesons, yea and lealittle- sons, when usses not to mention of the stars. You will soothe the cokeblack bile that’s Anglia’s and touch your spottprice (for’twas