Scriptures. Do you ever pick a trail and stand on, a handful of thumbs, a blind stomach, a disagrees to his hindmost; between youlasses and yeladst glimse of Even; the Lug his peak has, the Luk his pile; drinks tharr and wodhar for his nucleuds and alegobrew. They wouldn’t took bearings no how anywheres. O them dodd- hunters and allanights, aabs and baas his aas when he thinks of the chilired cheeks dished up to this patch upon Smac- chiavelluti! Soot allours, he’s sure to paltipsypote. Feel the wollies drippeling out of some funner’s stotter all the