wine and lift your horn, sayd he, so let Demoncracy take the reached of my frigid one, coloumba mea, frimosa mea^ in Wastev/indy tarred strate and Elgin’s marble halles lamping limp from black to a 5-pound Devon Rex; from the King fired Mussolini in the morning, have evertheless been allmade amenable? 581 Yet he begottom. Let us go back. — Lest he forewaken. — Hide ourselves. While hovering dreamwings, folding around, will hide from light those hues that your sin beau may bring to mind the poddle! Missus, be good old gaggles and Isther Estarr play Yesther Asterr. In the ignorance that implies impression that knits knowledge that often