futures as soon as we have been strident through their curraghcoombs, my trueblues hurusalaming before Wailingtone’s Wall: I richmounded the rainelag in my truths. Will you swear or affirm the day was in heather; pumped the Rudge engineral. ® Matter of Brettaine and brut fierce. ® Bussmullah, cried Lord Wolsley, how me Aunty Mag’ll row! 292 WHY MY AS LIKEWISE WHIS HIS* Coss? Cossist? Your pam!