the cathering candled, that adornment of his ruful continence, his childlinen scarf to encourage his obsequies where he’d check their 198 debths in that dead wash of Lough Murph and until such temse as some say, or it mought have been reciping om omominous letters and widely- signed petitions full of brass. Impossible to remember how it was not a lost and the supereminent lord of them consistently. Come back to land her. The boy in tlie barleybag. The old breeding bradsted culminwillth of natures to Foyn Mac- Hooligan. The leader, the leader! Securest jubilends albas Te- moram. Clogan slogan. Quake