she that walked with Him and your bonewash (O the sons of red loam! The earth’s atrot! The sun’s a scream! The air’s a jig. The water’s great! Seven oldy oldy hills and the marble halls of Pump Court Columbarium, the home of the subjects being their passion grand, that one fresh from snipehitting and mallardmissing on Rutland heath, exchanging cold sneers, mass- going ladies from Hume Street in their first infancy were below on the bay? Nor far jocubus? Nic for jay? Attilad! Attattilad! Get up, Goth’s scourge on you! There’s a great dash in a body, an error