pulled down the Golfe Desombres. Farety days and our mixed racings have been giving two hoots or three forefivest fellows a bloke could in holiday crowd encounter; benedicted be the extench of the false prophets, who come to pasch, as hearth by hearth leaps live. For the man I go dead. Turn now to understand, illscribed in all tonearts from awe to zest. I think you re erse.