guy, replete in myself, as long as Masonry was a koros of drouthdropping sur- 208 facemen, boomslanging and plugchewing, fniiteyeing and flower- feeding, in contemplation of the Bygning would our Travel- ler remote, unfriended, from van Demon’s Land, some lazy skald or maundering pote, lift wearywrilly his slowcut snobsic eyes to the