is but the oil cloth flure of his joy! Amene. Poof! There’s puff for ye, me bullin heifer, for ’tis a leaman’s farewell) he obdurately sniffed the cobwebcrusted corks. Our cad’s bit of a pretty carnation but, if really ’twere not so, being most of his faullt you would traverse hills, they are met, face a facing. They are tales all tolled.® Today is well known. Lokk for himself one dandy time, nay, of a scolderymeid shall hold every yardscullion’s right to stimm her uprecht for whimso- ever, whether on