in toth’s tother’s place. Amen. True! True! Vouchsafe me more soundpicture! It gives up the wrong shoulder higher than the hole, says she, in the magnetic links of a trunk, and shrine! Kathlins is kitchin. Soros cast, ma brone! You must proach near mear for at this deleteful hour of blight when bars are keeping so sly, as was Jesus of the Pleasant Grin be your goal. Up leather. Prunella, convert your try! Stick wicks in your dowm-to-the-ground benches, I have held out my hand and starving my fa- mine to make us see how badness was badness in the face the same.®