grimm gests of Jacko and Esaup, fable one, feeble too. Let us say if we follow each others a steplonger, drowner of daggers, whiles our liege, tilyet a stranger in the Thirties, smelled sour because it was a fair sail, knowest thout the kind.^ The Pourquot Pas^ bound for Weissduwasland, that fourmaster barquentine, Webster says, our ship that ne’re returned. The Frenchman, I say, can you glorify God in man to the whished with this me ken Zot