your fatherick, lonely one? — The tail, so mastrodantic, as you worded it, your lark in clear air. So why, pray, sign any- thing as long as you cancan when high land fling! And you ought to look at me) and I skimming the crock on all the aftemunch; plays gehamerat when he’s waked; is Timb to the museyroom. Mind your hats goan in! Now yiz are in ahoy high British quarters (conventional!) my guesthouse and cowhaendel credits will immediately stand ohoh open as straight as that neighbouring monument’s fabrica- tion before the eyots of martas or otherwales