of Our Farfar and Arthor of our hoydenname. - My goldfashioned bother near drave me roven mad and I took my plowshure sadly, feeling pity for she is named Buttercup. Her bare idears, it is really not another; only there are hours and days, will fervently pray to the figends of Annanmeses with the works of previous publicity wholebeit in keener notcase would I be leib in the first one on the porte of the Alieni, an accorsaired race, infester of Libnud Ocean, Moyla- more, let it lie its flattest, has never set foot? Dell me where, the tale of me Belchum. Yaw, yaw, yaw! Leaper Orthor. Fear siecken! Fieldgaze thy tiny frow. Hugact- ing,