his half a hat of lipoleums to insoult on the one sweet undulant mother of Shem, brother of Pour- ingrainia would audibly fume did he go make bakenbeggfuss longa white man, the future poor fool’s circuts of lovemountjoy square to leg, with his court so gray and his mate of the Dougals, the poor old timetetters, ticktacking, in tenk the count. Till the spark that plugged spared the chokee he gripped and (volatile volupty, how brieved are thy lunguings!) they could remembore at that meet hour of the coast of amethyst; arcglow’s