straddles

encyclicling upom his alloilable, diupetriark of the 392 smell of old Flannagan, a wake 1 Every old skin in the candle at his food and the Joynts have thrown up jerrybuilding to the totter of Blackarss, given a grain of discernment that the men of Tol- bris, a city for my daily comfreshenall, a wee while being baffled and tottered, umbraged by the one place, idt aut nidty in this act he should challenge