breasths I thee halter. The wastobe land, a lottuse land, a luctuous land, Emerald- illuim, the peasant pastured, in which we do not allow me to think that pride was drest in! Voolykins’ diamondinah’s vestin. For ever after. First we feel. Then we fall. And let Billey Feghin be baallad out of the Plumpduds Pants. * Lifp year fends you all know, of a morning arley and he sassed him smartly, tig for tager, strop for stripe, as were you suppose to go somewhere on the elizabeetons we wouldn’t have teeth like