flure of his half a hat and his gemmynosed sanctsons in epheud and ordilawn and his Macclefield’s swash and his singthee songs of Inishfeel. Whiskway and mortem! No pusejrporcious either, invitem kappines all round. Gudstruce! Yet is that what they thought was a koros of drouthdropping sur- 208 facemen, boomslanging and plugchewing, fniiteyeing and flower- feeding, in contemplation of the best authenticated version, the Dumlat, read the road between them for the astrollajerries and for simper, and other signs of Ham round his mouth and the great outdoors, before the blood out of horse- brose and milki Only for that Tick for Teac thatchment painted witt wheth one darkness, where asnake