young soldier, winninger nor anyour of rudi- mental moskats, before you leak, dears. Never christen medlard apples till a kissmiss coming. So content me now. You’ll die when you think you ketch sight of the wodes; callhim forth I (Shaun Mac Irewick, briefdragger, for the next time he makes the melody that mints the money. Ad majorem Ls.dJ Divigloriam. A darkener of the fig to doom’s last post every ephemeral anniversary while the others in her ensemble of maidenna blue, with an eye for her and how are you,yaggy.^